Page 159 of Sexting His Assistant

“That excuse only needs to work for other people.”

Her mouth opens, then closes. The card remains between us. “I’m not your girlfriend,” she says, quieter now.

“No.”

Something flickers in her face.

I add, “I’m not giving this to a girlfriend. I’m giving it to the woman I’m taking with me.”

She looks down at the card again, as if touching it will start some binding contract neither of us can escape.

Maybe it will. Maybe that is why I want her to take it.

“You said you don’t want people thinking I bought my place beside you,” she says.

“I said I understand that.”

“Then do you see the problem with giving me a credit card?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“And I still want you to have what you need.”

“I can buy my own dress.”

“I know you can.”

“Then let me.”

“No.”

Her eyes flash. “We literally just had a conversation about you making decisions for me.”

“I’m not deciding. I’m offering.”

“You’re holding the card like an order.”

I turn it around between two fingers and place it on the desk instead of in her hand. “Then take it or leave it.”

“That’s manipulative.”

“You’re free to walk away.”

She looks at the card for another second. Then she snatches it off the desk. “I’m doing this under duress.”

“Noted.”

“And I’m not buying something ridiculous.”

“You should buy something you like.”

“That sounded dangerously normal.”

“I can take it back.”

“Too late.” She slips the card into her bag like it might bite her.