The One Love Collection

by Lauren Blakely

  “I do.”

  “Did you ever think you’d be doing this with your colleague?”

  He cracks up. “Hell, no. I thought I’d be . . .”

  “You thought you’d still be with . . .” I let my voice trail off, too. For some reason, it makes me sad that he was so connected to someone else.

  “Yeah, but that’s not something I think about anymore.”

  “Do you miss her?” I ask, my muscles tightening with the wish for a no.

  He shakes his head and drags a hand through his hair. “Nope.”

  I relax. “Does she ever try to get in touch with you?”

  “She did, but not recently.”

  “Are you glad it ended?”

  He draws a deep breath. He’s never told me in detail, but I was able to figure out she cheated on him from things he’s said. “I’m glad it ended when it did. Before I was in even deeper. Before we had kids.”

  “Did you want them with her?” I ask, once more holding my breath for a no.

  “Eventually,” he says, and that’s as close to a no as I can ask for. He draws lazy circles along my thigh. “What about you? Did you ever like anyone enough to want to have kids with him?”

  I shake my head a little wistfully. “I think that part of me is broken.”

  “What part?” he asks, his brow knitting in curiosity.

  I tap my heart. “I’ve never been in love. Sure, I felt puppy love for my high school boyfriend. But as a grown woman? I think I’ve come close, but nothing that feels like mad, passionate love. Unless you count Ruby. I’m definitely in mad love with her. Like you are with Romeo.”

  When the dog hears his name, he bounds into the room. He plops his butt down and wags his tail. Ryder pats the bed. The dog jumps up and flops next to his master. Just two naked adults, and one naked dog. “And now there’s three in the bed,” I say with a laugh.

  “A ménage à trois,” he jokes, then his voice turns serious again. “You’ve really never been in love?” He sounds flummoxed, like he can’t quite imagine how I’ve gone through life without this.

  I run a hand through my tangled hair, smoothing it out. “It sort of felt like it once a few years ago, with someone I was with for several months,” I say with a shrug. “I thought it was. But looking back, I don’t think so.”

  “Why?”

  I stare at the ceiling. “Why?” I repeat. “I’ve asked myself that question. I liked Greg so much. He was a good guy. But I didn’t feel that zing,” I say, tapping my breastbone. “That magic here. You must have felt that.”

  He nods. “Definitely.”

  My heart plummets, and I’m ashamed that I’d wanted him to say he never felt the zing with his ex. I shouldn’t be jealous that the man has fallen in love in the past, especially when I’m not interested in love. I focus on Greg instead. “I didn’t feel that zing with my former fiancé, so I called it off.”

  “Ouch.”

  I crinkle my nose. “I’m mean. A terribly cruel woman.”

  He laughs lightly. “No, you’re not. Hell, I’m sure it hurt him. Any man would be devastated to lose you,” he says, and my heart dares to twirl. It’s such a strange little sensation hopping around in my chest. “But better at that time than once you were married.”

  “That’s what I figured. Because I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to be certain you’re in love. You’re supposed to get that feeling when you know it can’t be anything but love, right?”

  His lips curve into a smile. “Yeah,” he says, and his hand slides over my belly, on top of mine. He squeezes my fingers. “The way you’ll feel soon.”

  “Yes.” My eyes light up because he gets it. He truly understands me.

  “Still,” he says, shaking his head in amusement, “it’s amazing you can talk about love the way you do, and yet you’ve never really felt it. You understand on this deep level, but you’ve never been in love.”

  I’m an oddity to him. I’m the clock in the antique shop that doesn’t tell time. “But see, I don’t think romantic love is all that different than the love for your friends, or your family, or a dog. Is it? That kind of love?”

  He turns away from me and strokes Romeo’s soft fur. “That kind of love is different, but I try not to think about it.” He stops then exhales heavily. “Or to let myself feel it.”

  My chest aches, and sadness tunnels through me. I despise that his ex-wife hurt him so much that he has to turn off his heart. I run my fingers through his hair. He tenses briefly then relaxes. He sighs, and it sounds almost happy, as if he’s truly content in this moment here with me. I know the feeling—it matches my own right now. But whether I’m content, whether I want to throat-punch his ex, or whether my traitorous heart spins when he says sweet things, I’m still a practical woman, and I’m well aware of how absolutely critical our arrangement is.

  “It’s a good thing we know the score, right?” I say, keeping it light before it gets heavy.

  “Absolutely. And speaking of score, I’m including the Knicks game in the dating guide, especially because you liked pretending to be on the kiss cam so much.”

  I smile, remembering how very much I enjoyed his version of the kiss cam. “Loved it. You’ll be doing men all over the city a service if they kiss their woman like you kissed me.”

  He runs a finger along my hipbone. “By the way, thanks a lot for planning to be out of town right when you got me all hyped up on regular sex.”

  I leave in another day for a trip to California so I can record a few shows with live audiences. Cal likes to do that from time to time when a show is popular, so I’m thrilled to have the chance. “Tell me about it. I’ll have to pack some vibrators.”

  He holds up his right palm and stares sadly at it. “This is all I’ve got for the next week.”

  I laugh, then it turns into a sigh, and it occurs to me that even though I desperately want our banging to do the trick, I’m going to miss sleeping with him. I’m going to miss seeing him, too.

  And since we know the score, I see no reason not to tell him. “Is it weird that I’m kind of bummed about not seeing you while I’m gone?”

  “Only if it’s weird that I’m kind of bummed, too,” he says, then he drops a kiss to my forehead. Tingles spread everywhere—all over my body, to the tips of my toes and the ends of my hair.

  “Do that again,” I command as the world falls away and all I feel are his lips, his tenderness, and his warmth.

  “As you wish.” He kisses me, soft and gentle, as I lie on his bed in Chelsea, praying to the goddesses of fertility that a piece of him is mixing with a part of me tonight to make a whole new person.

  18

  Nicole

  The leaves crackle beneath my sneakers, and the cool fall air nips at my cheeks. California is lovely, but it’s good to be back in New York after eight days away. The city is glorious in early autumn, and Central Park is a carnival of burnished-gold, cranberry-red, and pumpkin-orange leaves. Fall is blazing, bursting with shades of fire on all the branches in the trees—one last cornucopia of color before winter chills the city.

  I inhale a crisp lungful of air as we jog on a late Sunday morning in early October. This is the perfect weather for running. This is the perfect weather for learning your life is about to change.

  “Are you going to take the test soon?” Delaney asks.

  I nod as Ruby tugs on the leash. “Definitely. As long as my period doesn’t come today, I’ll take the test tomorrow morning.”

  Penny lets out a little cheer as we round the top of the reservoir. “Can we all join you?”

  “Sure. We’ll have a pee-pee party at my place tomorrow at six a.m.”

  “You’re going to take it the second you wake up, right?” Delaney says, her tone serious. “First morning pee and all.”

  “Absolutely.” I’m a font of knowledge on all things pregnancy related. I’ve researched every last detail on when to take the test, and I’ve bought three kinds from Duane Reade.

&nbs
p; “And your periods are regular, right?” Penny asks.

  “Twenty-eight days. On the dot. I usually get it in the middle of the night on the twenty-eighth day, and I didn’t last night.” I cross my fingers. I’ve got an extra spring in my step from Aunt Flo’s apparent lack of appearance.

  Penny gasps in excitement.

  “That’s a good sign, right?” I ask. “That I didn’t get it?”

  They say yes in unison.

  I can’t mask my excitement. “Maybe it’s crazy, but I felt a little nauseated, too. And don’t laugh. But—”

  Delaney jumps in. “Your boobs totally look bigger.”

  I pump a fist and raise my gaze to the sky. “She noticed the girls, Lord. Hallelujah, she noticed the girls.”

  We jog for another thirty minutes then slow to a walk as we amble to a park exit. “How did it go, though? The sex and all? Tell us everything now that you’re back,” Penny says. I haven’t seen them in nearly two weeks, though I did share text updates.

  I wiggle my eyebrows. “It’s amazing. He’s a god in bed.”

  Penny happily sighs. “I love good sex.”

  Delaney raises a fist for bumping. “Good sex rocks.”

  “Bad sex can suck it,” Penny seconds.

  I raise a finger to make a point. “Bad sex should be eradicated from the world.”

  “Let’s make an ordinance outlawing it,” Delaney suggests.

  Penny tuts. “But how would we ever know something is amazing unless we experience the bad stuff? Or even just the completely lame sex?”

  I tug Ruby closer as we leave the park. “Good point. You need the lows to savor the highs.”

  Delaney furrows her brow, considering this. “If all sex was great, would we become numb to it? I’m not sure I would.”

  “No, but I think to appreciate that something is out-of-this-world good, we need to have experienced the bad.”

  “True. I’m just glad that all the sex I’m having is good,” Delaney says. “And I’m glad you’re having crazy good sex. Are you guys truly able to manage this whole deal without any weirdness or feelings?”

  “Absolutely,” I say with a tight nod, flashing back to all my conversations with Ryder about our arrangement, even the one from the other night in his home, right as the window was slamming shut on the fertile time of the month. “Honestly, I’m kind of impressed with us. We were able to treat it completely like a transaction.”

  Penny does a little dance, gyrating her hips as Shortcake barks at her. My friend smacks her own rear. “It’s a transaction, all right.”

  “He’s making a deposit,” Delaney says in a singsong voice.

  I pat my belly. “In the bank of me.”

  The three of us laugh, amused at our own bawdy cleverness.

  “But seriously.” Delaney prods again. “You were able to keep everything separate? Emotions and all?”

  I answer her as if I’ve been asked the question at a job interview, my tone professional and steady. “It wasn’t that hard. We’re both good at this. He’s not looking for anything more, and I’m not looking for anything but his—”

  “Deposits,” Penny cuts in.

  “Let me tell you, when that man goes to the ATM, he goes there,” I say. “He gets that money in so deep, so far, and he delivers it all the way to the bank.”

  High fives abound, and Penny rubs my belly as we stop at a crosswalk. “I’m tempted to kiss your belly for luck, but that’s totally weird. Also, I think we need to get in the habit now of patting your belly.”

  “Pat it. You can feel up my belly as much as you want for the next nine months.”

  As we say good-bye and I walk the rest of the way home, those words play over and over in my head.

  Nine months, nine months, nine months.

  I intend to enjoy every single second of every day of them.

  By that night, I am still blissfully period-free. I wash my face and loop my hair into a ponytail. I open the closet door all the way and appraise my appearance in front of the full-length mirror. I stand sideways, considering my breasts, my legs, my hips, and most of all, my flat belly. I run my hand over my middle. I swear I can feel something happening. Like my mom said, maybe you just know. I clasp both hands on my stomach, lace my fingers together, and send a wish to the universe to take care of the baby I hope is growing inside me.

  I turn off the lights and fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.

  When I wake on Monday morning, it’s as if I’ve been shot full of anticipation, and nerves, too. Everything feels different.

  When a tongue slobbers up my cheek, I remember that I’m not the only one who has to pee. Ruby licks my face again, and that’s my cue to toss off the covers, tug on some sweats, and leash her up. I have to go, too, but I can hold it for five minutes while she does her business. I want to be able to savor the moment when I see those two pink lines. Then, I can spend the rest of my morning calling the whole world. Well, just my mom and my girls and that man who made it possible. I’d tell them, but no one else.

  I pull on a fleece, grab a plastic bag, and leave. After a quick trip around the block, I race back up the stairs to my apartment.

  When I unhook Ruby’s leash, I pat the side of my leg, her cue to follow. My loyal girl trots behind me as I head to the bathroom. My new plunger is parked next to the toilet, nice and pristine. I grab the test box and read the instructions for the twentieth time, even though I’ve memorized them. But I don’t want to mess this up.

  I’m ready for the news.

  I’m ready to head down the path to motherhood.

  I’m ready to go this alone.

  I inhale deeply, pull down my panties, and I see blood.

  I freeze.

  And a whole new emotion washes over me.

  Foolishness.

  I’ve never felt like a bigger fool in my life. Tears leak down my face. I can’t believe I let myself get so carried away. I can’t believe I let myself think it would be easy.

  19

  Ryder

  As I round the corner, I check my messages again. Still no word from Nicole, and I know today is the day. I stuff the phone into my back pocket, reasoning that can only mean good news. She’s probably caught up in the excitement. I bet she cabbed it to her mom’s house already and they’re shopping for baby blankets or maternity clothes. Does it make me a complete dick if maternity clothes give me the willies?

  Look, I’m not saying pregnant women aren’t hot. Some are sexy as fuck, and Nicole would look smoking hot as a pregnant chick with a giant basketball belly and those perfect tits. All I mean is, I’d rather not see her in clothes with a pouch just yet.

  “Fuck,” I mutter.

  I do sound like a dick. Even in my own head.

  While I’m at it, I guess I might as well make all my asshole confessions as I weave through the Monday morning crowds on the way to work. God knows, when I get to the office, I’ll have to put on my good-boy cap. But here goes. There’s a part of me that hopes she’s not pregnant.

  I drag a hand through my hair as I march up the avenue.

  I can’t believe I just thought that. But let the wild rumpus of dickhead ideas roam free in my brain. I really enjoyed fucking her, and I wouldn’t mind trying to score a touchdown a few more times inside her. The nights with her were everything I could want—amazing evenings with a wonderful woman, the hottest sex of my life, plus some of the best conversations in the post-fornication glow.

  Nicole and I get each other on an instinctual level. Not just in bed, but out of it, and I will miss that.

  I will miss having her.

  When I reach the office, I shove those notions aside. Surely Nicole is in the family way, and I’m going to be the most enthusiastic sperm donor ever in the history of sperm donors.

  I square my shoulders, take a deep breath, and go inside. I say hello to the receptionist, make idle hallway chitchat with a few co-workers, then check my phone one more time. Still nothing. She’s probably not even he
re. I bet she took the day off to celebrate her good news.

  I head to her office and tap on the door. A weak voice says, “I’m busy.”

  My heart falls, and I know instantly that it didn’t work. “Nicole, it’s me.”

  There’s a honk as if she’s blowing her nose.

  She pulls open the door, and her smile is the most plastic thing I’ve seen. My poor girl. She’s so sad, and she’s trying so hard to be tough. I close the door behind us, lock it, and gather her into my arms.

  “I’m sorry, baby.” I stroke her hair, and it occurs to me I’ve called her baby when we’re not screwing. In the heat of the moment, I just say it and it feels right. But at this moment, too, it feels surprisingly right.

  “It’s okay,” she mutters, but her voice hitches.

  “I know how much you wanted this. I thought it was going to happen,” I say softly in her ear. I wish I could take away her sadness.

  “Me, too.”

  She doesn’t cry, though. She lets me hold her, and she wraps her arms around me. As much as I wanted to have her again, I’d rather she be happy. I’d rather all her dreams come true.

  She raises her face. “Want to know what really sucks?”

  “Tell me.” I tuck a finger under her chin, meeting her eyes.

  “I feel so stupid.” Her lips quiver.

  “Don’t say that. Why would you say that?”

  She swipes at her cheek. “I really thought it worked. I was so foolish. I know better, Ryder.” She grips my shirt. “I’m supposed to be this smart and rational woman, and instead, I became a fluttery, hopeful fool. I couldn’t imagine any other outcome than wonderful beginner’s luck.”

  She rolls her eyes.

  “You’re not a fool,” I say, soothing her as I rub her shoulders. “You’re just a normal person who wanted something badly. You stayed positive and believed in the possibilities. That doesn’t make you foolish. It makes you human.”