Going Dutch Was A Farce

“The numbers don’t add up.”

Lucas Craig’s long, slender fingers tapped the receipt on the table.

He pushed his gold-rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose, his voice calm and gentle.

“The folic acid you bought yesterday cost more than the amount we agreed on.”

I sat on the couch, still holding the glass of water he had just poured for me. The temperature was exactly 113 degrees Fahrenheit, measured carefully with a thermometer.

“That brand was sold out.”

I watched the steam rising from the glass.

“The pharmacy only had this imported one. It was sixty-five dollars more.”

Lucas picked up the black fountain pen from the table and drew a light line through the printed “Prenatal Expenses Cost-Sharing Agreement”.

“Nancy Shore, we agreed that we'd keep our finances separate after we got married.”

He looked up at me, with eyes holding the same gentle patience and tenderness as always.

“It’s a matter of respecting each other. It’s also part of the commitment we made to each other as a modern married couple.

“You should cover the extra sixty-five dollars yourself.”

My fingers tightened slightly around the glass.

“But I’m two months pregnant.”

I spoke softly. “The morning sickness has been really bad lately, and my work bonuses have taken a hit.

“There’s less than two thousand dollars left in my account.”

Lucas sighed. He stood and walked over to me, gently running a hand through my hair. The gesture was so tender, almost as though he were soothing a kitten that didn't know any better.

“Nance, an independent woman shouldn’t use pregnancy as an excuse to avoid her financial responsibilities. If the expenses are getting difficult for you, I can lend you the money.”

He pulled out his phone and opened the calculator with practiced ease.

“I’ll charge you three percent interest, based on the current bank lending rate. How does that sound?”

I stared at his handsome face so close to mine.

My stomach churned. I couldn't tell whether it was the morning sickness or the matter-of-fact way he spoke.

Suddenly, his phone screen lit up on the table. A bank notification appeared:

[Your account ending in 8842 has been charged $85,000.00.]

Lucas glanced at the screen. His expression didn't change in the slightest.

“Winny is going to Vienna next month for a cello competition.”

His explanation was perfectly calm. “Her cello broke. As her sponsor, I should help her replace it.”

Winona Lowe.

She was his mentor's daughter, whom he had spent the last ten years showering with financial support.

I stared at that painfully conspicuous number and said, “Eighty-five thousand.”

I repeated it quietly.

“Lucas, you spent eighty-five grand on a cello for her without batting an eye. But you're nickel-and-diming me over sixty-five dollars of extra folic acid?”

Lucas frowned slightly, seemingly unable to understand why I was comparing the two.

“It's not the same thing.”

He returned to his desk and pushed the agreement toward me.

“Winny is my responsibility. That money is an investment. But you and I are married. Going Dutch on everything was a rule we agreed on before we got married.”

“And rules aren't meant to be broken.”

He held the pen out to me and said, “Sign it. Prenatal checkups, nutritional expenses, and even the cost of giving birth down the road.

“We split everything down the middle.”

I didn't take the pen. I simply looked at him.

“What if something goes wrong when I give birth?” I asked.

“What if I need an expensive emergency procedure to save my life?”

Lucas gave a quiet laugh.

“Medical technology is incredibly advanced these days. You shouldn't scare yourself with worst-case scenarios.

“Even if something does happen, I'll pay my half, exactly as agreed.”

He placed the pen in my hand. His warm palm wrapped around my cold fingers.

“Be good. Just sign it. I'll go with you to the hospital tomorrow to register for your prenatal care.”

I lowered my head and looked at the agreement, its pages filled with clauses and fine print. It even specified exactly which brand of diapers our future child would use and the acceptable price range.

I picked up the pen and signed my name at the bottom.

Lucas folded the agreement away, satisfied.

“That's better.”

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to my forehead. “Get some rest. We have to get up early tomorrow.”

He turned and walked into his study. The moment the door closed, I looked down at the water in my glass that had already gone cold.

Slowly, little by little, I poured it into the potted plant beside me.