All my doubts about Eric were fucked right out of me last night. At some point we moved to the bed, but sleep didn’t happen until we fucked each other several more times. When we finally fell asleep, Eric held me in his arms.

When I open my eyes, he’s already looking at me with a smile on his face. He didn’t disappear in the morning, never to call or acknowledge me again like the few guys I’ve slept with in the past have done to me.

Just a few inches from my face, I can see him clearly, but I close my eyes to kiss him. It’s a warm, slow kiss. We spent all our energy last night. When our lips part, he rolls off the bed and stands up.

He disappears from my narrow focus, becoming a blurry tan shape. I grab my glasses off the nightstand and put them on. They force Eric into focus, and I watch with regret as he covers his perfect abs and arms with a crisp white shirt.

“You have to work today?” I ask.

“I have to work every day,” he says.

“Wouldn’t you still be rich if you took it easy for a day?”

“It’s rare to find someone as rich as me that ever takes it easy. It’s a personality flaw—or feature—depending how you look at it.”

“I’ll call it a feature,” I say, smiling.

“Unfortunately,” he says, popping his collar and wrapping around a tie, “it means I have to leave soon. You’re free to stay here as long as you’d like. If you need to go, you can take the helicopter or—”

I laugh. “It was fun, but I think I can just take the train.”

“Suit yourself,” he says. “My chef is making breakfast if you’re hungry.”

“Your chef…” I say, “I should have figured you’d have a chef if you have a helicopter. Can you cook?”

“Of course I can cook. I haven’t always been a billionaire,” he says.

“I know plenty of poor people who can barely make pasta.”

“I wasn’t one of them,” he says. “Next time you come over, I’ll cook dinner if you don’t believe me.”

“I believe you.” I stand up and wrap my arms around him, pressing my breasts against his back. “But I’d still love to have you cook for me all the same.”

It’s hard to believe that I didn’t trust him before. He probably just hadn’t let his guard down when we first met, and neither had I. Two people can’t really trust each other if they both are hiding something or holding back, but now that he’s let go of his secret, I’m finally ready to open up.

“This is serious,” I ask, letting go of him. “Right?”

He turns to face me. He gives me a serious look and runs a hand through my hair. “It is for me.”

“So you’re not going to just disappear on me, right? Or tell me later that we were just having fun?”

I don’t want to actually ask this, but it feels like the right time.

“I want this to be long-term,” he confirms.

I have to hold back tears. It feels too good to be true.

“With that big of a smile,” he says, touching my cheek, “I’d almost guess you were thinking you could give up on the LSAT.”

I laugh. “I wasn’t thinking that! I’m not the kind of woman to just give up on my life’s goals because I’m dating a rich guy.”

“I was joking,” he says.

“Eric,” I say. “I really don’t want to work in a bike shop my whole life, but if we end up together—long-term—I’d still rather work in a bike shop than just lounge around all day and mooch off you.”

Then again, what if we had kids? If Eric works so much, I’d rather raise our kids myself than hire a—Jesus, why am I already thinking about kids? We just slept together for the first time. I’m jumping the gun way too hard. Then it hits me, I didn’t even think of using protection last night. I’m not on the pill either. I could have kids from being so reckless.

“What’s that look?” he says, leaning in closer to me. “What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing,” I say. “Guys aren’t supposed to ask that. That’s an annoying question reserved for women to ask.”

“Oh,” he says. “So you want to make sure you work no matter what, but you’re fine with certain gender roles like that?”

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” I say, laughing and pushing him away.

He grins. “I’d rather put something else in your mouth.”

“Me too,” I say, blushing.

“But now,” he says, “I really need to go. If you’re hungry, just take the stairs down to the dining room.”

I kiss him goodbye, and watch him step into his private elevator.

After I get dressed I make my way to the dining room, the table is covered in food. There are freshly baked croissants, some kind of egg and salmon dish, and a glass carafe of what looks—and smells—like freshly squeezed orange juice.

“Unreal,” I whisper.

I almost feel bad eating this stuff, like I might get used to this level of luxury, and then eating granola from Aldi won’t ever taste good again.

I cut open one of the croissants and put the egg and lox onto it, and just as I take my first bite, I feel my phone vibrate.

I pull it out, hoping that it’s Eric, but I frown when I see that it’s actually my Dad.

“Hey, Dad,” I say.

“When were you gonna tell me?” He asks, his voice sounding accusing.

“About?” I ask.

“Don’t pretend you don’t know,” he scolds. “The billionaire asshole you’re dating. You didn’t think to tell me about that, sweetheart? Or you didn’t want to tell me about it, because you know it’s a bad idea.”

I take in a breath, but avoid sighing into the receiver. “Look, Dad, I was cautious at first, I admit it. That’s why I didn’t tell you. I didn’t want to make some big deal out of this before I was sure about it. But now I am sure about it.”

“So that’s why I’m calling you instead of you calling me?”

“Dad…”

“I’m just trying to protect you, Ruthy, you know that. I did a lot of research on this Prince guy—and I just really don’t see how any of this is okay.”

“If I just read about him from tabloids, I wouldn’t think he’s a good guy, but I know him face-to-face, and that’s what tells me he’s a good guy.”

“I wanna meet him then,” he says. “Or I won’t be able to sleep, you know?”

“Dad, we just started dating—”

“If it’s so serious, then he can meet me,” he says, not giving an inch.

“Alright,” I say, with a sigh. “I’ll ask him.”