by London James
I put my pen down and stare at the empty paper. I can’t boil this down to a few bullet points, at least not yet. How can I put a pro/con list together on another person’s life? This isn’t like creating a business. As I’ve learned the hard way, there are so many ‘unknown-unknowns’. I have no idea what this situation is going to bring me.
I look at my email instead of digging back into my problem, checking over the things that I didn’t get to today. There’s an email from Talia, with our public relations team cc’d. More questions about the company going public, this time with Talia throwing out some figures to help me make a more informed opinion.
It clicks in my head. If I take the company public, I’ll have even more money. I could give Briony and the child millions and millions. She won’t have to worry about having a day job ever again. If she’s going to lose the chance to work on her dream unimpeded, I can sacrifice something of my own for her. That’s the least I could do.
And yet, the idea does not quite sit with me well. I sigh and go to get another beer.
I come back to the paper and start free writing.
Pros of being with Briony and trying to raise the kid:
I miss her. A lot.
If there was any woman I want to take a chance with, it would be her.
The child will have a father.
There will be less pressure on her financially.
She can follow her dreams once the kid is old enough.
Ben will probably only slice off one of my balls for knocking her up.
All good things. All worthy things to say yes to. Besides the ball cutting.
Cons of trying the family thing:
Briony probably hates me.
Probably doesn’t trust me to not be a flake.
Meaning, I’d break her heart yet again and leave her as a single mother.
We could break up years down the line, and I’d lose her, the child, and probably my best friend too.
I could be just as bad of a father as my own was.
I have no idea what being a parent could bring out of me.
I underline that last list item roughly, poking the page so hard the ink starts to blot. That is my biggest fear.
I stare down at the paper, feeling like a moron. This isn’t making me feel any better. Just looking at the list makes my gut roll and my chest tighten. It feels too abstract. I’ve never even thought about myself having this issue like I have with other problems I’ve faced in life.
In the military, we train for every possible situation, including ones we couldn’t have dreamed up in a million years. I apply the same reasoning to my life as an entrepreneur; there are going to be bumps in the road and failures, but they will probably lead me to a better place if I let them.
I run my hand over my face. That’s what Briony has been saying the whole time, isn’t it? I need to take a risk, but this is the biggest risk I could ever take. Of course she’s right. She’s smart as fuck and isn’t afraid of letting things out like I am. I can apply mental grit to every other area of my life except for my innermost self.
I close my eyes and breathe deeply, pushing down the overwhelming wave of emotion coming over me. Just because I know I’m shoving it all in doesn’t mean I’m ready to let all of my feelings out. This soul-searching shit is exhausting.
To distract myself, I switch tabs to look at my calendar. Dad has another doctor’s appointment in a few days. It’s yet another follow-up after some fainting spells he had a week back. He still doesn’t let the doctors tell me anything directly, so I’ve given up. The old man is stubborn.
I am so sick of being home alone that I want to go out to Long Island and take him to the doctor myself. That’s the lowest low I’ve ever had, but at least he’s a damn good distraction.
With nothing left to do, I sit around in my own thoughts until I fall asleep in my office, clutching an empty beer bottle with Sarge at my feet.
I wake with a start at 3 a.m. and check my phone. No texts from Briony. No texts from Ben. So at least he doesn’t know about Briony and me. Or if he does, he’s going to call me in the morning and let loose on me.
I shuffle to bed, peeking into Briony’s room. My cleaning service hasn’t been in, so the room is still messy from her presence. The bed is unmade. It smells like her—a little like sweets and flowers.
I take a step into the room and stop myself. There is no fucking way I can sniff her pillows like a damn serial killer and not hate myself for it. But her scent is comforting. I feel a void open up in my chest. I doubt I’ll ever feel like this about anyone again, especially now that I’ve entered the worst-case scenario falling in love can create.
Love. I’m probably in love with her, aren’t I? That’s why it feels like the world is crumbling around me. She’s the tape that keeps me together. She’s optimistic and warm, where I’m pessimistic and aloof. She makes me feel good, like a slightly better person. I could fuck it up, just like I could have made business mistakes that would have sent the company spiraling into the ground. But I succeeded there. I know I can fucking try and not be afraid of it.
I need to tear up that pro/con list. Briony is the only pro I need to consider, and she outshines any con. Now the only problem is convincing her that I’m not a selfish piece of shit. I go back into my study and throw out the lists I made, putting a note in my inbox. I have to make some calls tomorrow to clean up this mess.
I slip into bed and pass out, feeling slightly less terrible. Now the only thing making me restless is whether my plan will work.
I feel slightly better when I wake up and go about my day with half the stress that I was carrying before. Until I get a text from Ben when I’m eating lunch.
Need to talk with you.
Ah, shit. I don’t have much of an appetite after reading that.
I tell him okay, and he tells me to meet him at Grand Army Plaza. If he’s going to fight me, at least there will be witnesses. Not that he could beat me in a fight. I’m already bigger than him and have been since high school. Or maybe he’s meeting me in public so he won’t lose his shit. Regardless, dread fills my gut.
I get there first and sit on a bench on the path going into the park. I see him coming from a distance; his hands tucked into his pockets. He usually has some pep in his step, but today he seems subdued. Shit, I don’t blame him.
“Hey,” he mutters, stopping in front of me.
“Hey.”
“Let’s walk.”
I stand and walk next to him, the air between us somber. The leaves are starting to fall, crunching underneath our feet. It’s unusually warm, too, even though it’s early October.
“So, you and Briony,” he finally starts, not looking at me.
“I’m sorry.” I’m not sure what to say. I’m not sure about a lot of things.
“You fucked up. And you hurt her again, but this time you got her pregnant,” he snaps, anger simmering in his voice. “I can’t believe this.”
“It was an accident.” It sounds so weak, even though it is technically the truth. “There was a 1 percent chance of her birth control failing, and it happened through no fault of her own.”
“I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about how after she’s had bad date after bad date, you swoop in, hook up with her, and dump her.”
He stops and looks at me. The fire in his eyes is palpable, as is the pain. “I trusted you to not be a dick.”
“Can I explain myself, at least?” I ask, feeling slightly annoyed.
“Fine.”
“I do like Briony. A lot. But you know me, and you know that I…” I pause, trying to phrase it in a way that won’t make him fly off the handle. “… I’m not great with relationships. We tried to not be together since I knew that you would react like this and that I would inevitably screw it all up. So I tried to preemptively end it before it started. It backfired.”
His eyebrows go up. “That’s incredibly stupid.”
“I know it is. Which is why I want to m
ake things right with her.” I look up.
“Yeah, she’s definitely not going to go for that.” Ben laughs darkly. “She bursts into tears when I mention your name.”
That’s a punch to the gut. Fuck, I hate myself. “I want to apologize to her in person. I’ve already made some calls to help out with BloomBrightly, but that’s probably not enough.”
Ben sighs heavily. “I’m telling you. She’s not going to respond well to this.”
“I should try, though, shouldn’t I? My inability to take a risk was what got us here in the first place. If I had been a normal person who could face my feelings, Briony and I would be together, and you would be an excited uncle.”
A smile twitches across his lips. “I’m excited to be an uncle, whether you’re involved or not.”
That’s good news, at least.
“I’m pissed at you still,” Ben continues, after a long pause. “I don’t know how you can make up for this, but it’s going to take me a long time to feel fine about you.”
“I understand that.”
“So I’m asking someone else to be my best man for the wedding.” He sounds tentative about it like he’s just putting the thought out there without committing to it.
“What?” I gasp way too loudly. A cluster of joggers passing us looks in our direction. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am. It’s just weird, Ash.” Ben looks past my shoulder, avoiding my gaze. “I don’t know how to feel about you, or how to handle Briony’s feelings while she’s upset. She doesn’t want to see you right now, and who knows how long that will last?”
My stomach is rapidly making its way up my throat like I’m free-falling from a plane. “Ben. We’ve been best friends for most of our lives.”
“Yeah, I know. It’s not like this doesn’t suck for me, but if I had to choose between you and my sister, Briony would win every time.” He gets his phone out of his pocket and pulls up a car-service app. “You broke my trust and threw a big wrench into her life. I can’t just say ‘okay, whatever’ to that and have you stand across from her while I get married.”
I swallow, a knot in my throat. “I understand. It hurts, but I understand.”
“Good.” Ben looks down at our feet. “I need to get home. Daisy’s waiting.”
I nod and watch him go without a handshake. In high school, we used to have this dumb, elaborate goodbye ritual, which has transformed over the years into a simple low five and hug. But now he just up and walked away.
The contrast makes it hurt even more. Ben didn’t smile at me once the whole time.
Chapter Twenty
Briony
Being pregnant sucks a lot less than I thought it would, despite everything that’s going on in my life. I’ve just started my second trimester, and I’m already showing enough for people to look unsure as to whether they should give up their seats on the subway for me. None of them ever do, but at least they seem to think about it before going about their business.
Thankfully, now that it’s November, it isn’t warm anymore. Zara’s older sister, Zeynep, had been pregnant during the summer and told me that it is hands down the worst. She’d sweated in areas she didn’t even know had sweat glands, which still makes me cringe thinking about it.
I absently stroke my belly as I wander across my new apartment, which is sparsely furnished. I have enough to get by, but it still doesn’t feel like home yet. It’s tiny and feels empty without Zara, but it would be weird to have a roommate and a new baby. The nursery has a crib in a box that Ben promises he’ll help me put together, and a few things my mom and dad have gotten me.
As he promised, Ash mails me a check every month that covers more than enough of my living expenses. But he hasn’t called me even once or asked about the baby. Probably because Ben has essentially excommunicated him from our lives, but still. I miss him, as much as I don’t want to admit it.
There’s a little hole in my life where he was, and it’s filled with rejection. Ben mentioned to me that Ash was allegedly trying to fix things, but I haven’t seen a single bit of that besides the money. Maybe he got too scared to follow through like he had with our relationship.
My jaw is clenching, so I massage it a little. I can flip between missing him and feeling a little bad for him for all of his daddy issues and hating him for knowing about the problems yet still avoiding them, in an instant.
At least Daisy is helping me manage all of my emotional ups and downs, and Zara keeps me cheered up with funny memes and nights in. My mom and dad send me little care packages and call me every other day. Ben is on top of everything else, shuttling me to doctor’s appointments and making sure I’m eating my damn vegetables. I’m going to have my own kid soon—I am fully capable of remembering to eat spinach.
I smile a little. Just like last time, Ben came in and is helping me out. With him and my family and friends, I almost feel ok.
I sit on the couch and flip on the TV, pulling up Netflix. Some of the shows Ash and I watched are still in my queue. I don’t want to delete them, but I keep holding on to them in the hopes that we’ll somehow watch them together again. I sigh, pressing play on an episode of Queer Eye that I’ve already seen.
I open up my laptop to get some work done while the show plays in the background. I’m still on pre-wedding-event flower duty, even though Ash has been ejected from the wedding party. The bachelorette party was turned from ‘let’s get wasted at a ski resort’ to a gentle spa experience, all thanks to me. Daisy sincerely didn’t mind. She’s already taken me to get my nails done more than I have in the past few years, just to perk me up.
Tears spring to my eyes. I can’t wait until I can keep my shit together, though the more my moods seem to stabilize the more my guts seem to rebel. For a thing the size of an apple, the baby seems to be taking over all of my body’s space.
I still don’t know if it’s a boy or girl, and I kind of don’t want to. The surprise would be fun, if my doctors don’t accidentally reveal it during a visit.
I make the final arrangements for the flowers for the bachelorette party before moving on to my BloomBrightly email. All of our preparations have gone into super-speed mode. We got rejected from the start-up incubator, which is a major blow, but the app is getting better and better, and some media outlets have covered us. Not Modern New York Bride, but still. Things are picking up.
We’ve also made some plans for what we’ll do when the baby comes. Things will slow way, way down, but they won’t stop all the way. That’s all that matters. We’re still moving.
I hiccup, grimacing from the taste of acid climbing up my esophagus. Ugh, I’m still not used to that symptom. The list of medicines I can’t take or should avoid is a mile long, so I just suffer through the pain most of the time. I want to go on the message boards for support with these kinds of things, but half the time women complain about their partners or can’t stop gushing about how great they are.
It’s infuriating, being consumed by jealousy. So I just talk to my doctor if anything gets too weird.
I get a text from Zara, who now lives a few blocks over from me.
Bumped into Ben at Key Food—we’ll be there soon with snacks, she says.
I smile. You guys don’t have to come hang out with me all the time. I can’t even drink or do anything fun.
Whatever, you know you’re fun even without the help of substances, she replies.
I put my phone down, grinning to myself. Having them around makes me feel so much less alone. Not that I’m ever truly alone anymore with the baby and Chunk, who somehow senses that my body is changing despite being kind of dim in every other sense. He sits curled up to my belly all the time now and isn’t as big of a jerk as he usually is. Maybe it’s because Ben or Zara or Daisy are the ones handling his litter and food since pregnant ladies aren’t supposed to be around the stuff.
Soon, Ben and Zara arrive with my favorite things—apple juice and pretzels. I can’t get enough of them.
“Hey, how
are you feeling?” Ben asks, looking me over. “You don’t look as pale as before.”
“Probably because I can eat some and I went outside.” I grab the bottle of apple juice from him and chug it, immediately regretting it. I can’t just go hard on food and drinks like that anymore.
“Relax on the juice.” Ben takes it from me. “I want some too.”
“Even with my cooties?”
“Yes, even with your cooties.” He takes a swig of juice. “Zara, you want some?”
“I’ll pass.” She wrinkles her nose. “Let’s watch TV or something, rather than exchanging germs.”
We squeeze onto my couch with the juice and pretzels and watch the rest of the episode of Queer Eye I have on. Ben is fiddling with his phone, sighing and tapping away.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, leaning over.
“Wedding shit. Don’t worry about it,” he mumbles, frowning.
Zara leans over for me and reads over his shoulder. “Yikes, Jay missed his tux fitting?”
Ben pulls his phone from Zara’s view, narrowing his eyes. “Yes, but what are you going to do about it?”
“Is he cute? I could give him a tux fitting,” she teases.
“He’s married. To a guy. That guy says that he’s cute, but that could just be because he’s his husband.” Ben laughs. “But in all seriousness, I’m irritated. Jay hasn’t been on time for any of the wedding shit I’ve asked him to do.”
An uncomfortable silence hangs in the air. Ash is always on time for everything. If he hadn’t been uninvited from being in the wedding party, Ben wouldn’t have that problem. We probably wouldn’t be sitting on the couch like this watching Queer Eye and eating pretzels either. I don’t know where we would be.
“Sorry,” Ben says, squeezing my shoulder. “I didn’t mean to remind you of him.”
“Guys, seriously.” I reach out to grab another pretzel. “Things are fine with me and Ash. Well, as fine as they could ever be.”