by Lex Martin
“Could you keep it down? I’m not sure your announcement reached Northern California.”
“I’m sorry.” She glances around. “Sorry.”
When everyone who’s eyeballing us has returned to their overcooked Panda Express, I reluctantly continue.
“What did you think happened when Drew and I got snowed in together at Mount Hood?” I’m seriously shocked that my best friend didn’t guess what went down on Thanksgiving. Although we haven’t had any heart-to-hearts recently, I thought she’d puzzle it out with her Spidey sense.
“After I learned you survived the trip with all of your extremities intact, I figured you guys argued nonstop until you prayed for deliverance.”
I chuckle. “Close. We banged like bunnies until neither one of us could walk. But good guess. I thought we would kill each other too.”
Evie’s eyebrows are still under her bangs, the shock of my situation not wearing off one bit. “I started to wonder last night, though, if something major had happened.” Her voice drops to a whisper. “Aside from getting arrested. But I didn’t think you’d ever go that far since you’ve always loathed the guy.” Her eyes crinkle with amusement. “Except you two were acting so weird with each other. It was like watching you both interact in an alternate universe, one where you reciprocated his feelings for you. I mean, why else would you care about Drew’s extracurricular activities?”
And there it is. The one thing that would make me want to run for the hills—if Drew returned to his old life.
He said those were old photos. That he’s been a hermit.
Ignoring the way my stomach pitches at the mention of Drew’s old partying ways, I reach for my water.
And then pause.
“What do you mean ‘reciprocated his feelings for me’?”
She snorts. “The way you guys used to fight like rabid badgers? I figured it was something akin to the way little boys tease girls, just more insane because, well, it’s Drew.”
I stare at her in disbelief.
Have I been missing some huge piece of the puzzle all this time and Drew’s been interested in me? Or is it that he always gets what he wants and found me a challenge?
“Please tell me how this happened,” Evie begs.
How do I explain what transpired between Drew and me when I don’t even understand it? “Maybe I should start at the beginning.”
She nods comically. “Girl, I want every gory detail. Like how you went from hating him with a religious zeal to—”
“Bumping uglies?”
“Yes. That.” She shoves a chunk of donut in her mouth without losing eye contact, like she’s watching a riveting movie.
“Let me begin by saying this is all your fault. Had you not asked Drew to pick me up from work to drive me to the cabin, he never could’ve taken me to the wrong house where we got snowed in for days with a limited number of condoms.”
Briefly, I consider that conversation with Tristan yesterday morning, about douchebags not wanting to wear condoms and letting them slide off, and dismiss it outright. Drew’s not the kind of guy who ever wanted to get saddled with a kid. I’m the one who wanted it in the V without a condom “just for a minute.” I should punch myself in the face for suggesting it and then punch him for agreeing with me.
Evie hops up and down in her seat. “I take full responsibility for the ensuing nakedness. Now spill.”
So I dive in. How he picked me up from work. The drive up there. How we bonded by the fireplace and snuggled Shazam. How Drew seemed like a genuinely different person from the one I met a few years ago. And then, of course, the many orgasms he gave me, courtesy of his big dick and talented mouth. Though I don’t go into details about the nakedness. Just that he’s gifted in the sex department.
But then I get to the arrest and jail and not hearing from him for days. My phone dying and miscommunication galore. And how Tristan figured out why I was hurling chunks all over Portland.
It’s so good to talk about it with her, I’m almost buoyant with relief.
When I’m done, her mouth is a rounded O.
“You’re having Drew’s baby.”
“This is what I’m saying.”
“And that’s why you looked like a ghost last night.”
“Also correct.”
“He really didn’t call you all that time after you guys got back from the cabin?”
“He thought I was fucking Tristan.” I snort, the idea so outlandish. Except then I see the question in Evie’s eyes. “I have never gone there with him. Ever. I know you joke that we’ve done the dirty before, but Tris and I are just buds.”
I pick at my last donut and wait for her to process everything.
Finally, she tilts her head, the gentleness in her voice belying the intensity of her questions. “What are you going to do? About the pregnancy?”
“I guess I want to keep it.” Hearing myself say those words makes everything feel real. It’s fucking terrifying. “This”—I place my hand on my belly—“this feels like one in a million.” I lower my voice to a whisper. “We used condoms. Lots of condoms. Until the last time when we ran out. So, uh, we went backdoor.”
It takes her a moment to understand what I mean.
“I’ve only done that with Josh, but he’s built like a baseball bat, so we can’t do it often.”
She giggles, and it feels like we’re back in college and chatting about boys. How I wish life were that simple again.
I cover my eyes a moment as I head into major overshare territory. “In the moment, I was like, hey”—I wave my hand—“who needs lube? Stick it in the pussy palace first. It was like two seconds of unprotected dick-in-vag sex until we got to the main event. But that’s all it took.”
“That’s all it took.”
I nod.
“So that’s why Drew came over this morning. How did he take the news last night?”
Blowing out a breath, I shake my head. “He didn’t freak. But we had so many other issues to work out before I could tell him that by the time I dropped the baby bomb, I was too exhausted to discuss it with him.”
There’s a long pause of silence. Evie folds her lips between her teeth.
“You think I should’ve talked to him more.”
She shrugs. “I understand it from your position. I also get why he seemed overwhelmed this morning. You’re both dealing with a lot. And I’m sure you want to know where he stands on…everything.”
“Honestly, I’m prepared to go it alone if I need to.” A cold sweat breaks out all over my body at the thought. “Yes, I need to talk to him.” I take a deep breath. “I promise I’ll talk to him. It’s just…I’m afraid, okay?”
“Of Drew?”
“Of how tentative this feels. Drew being a responsible adult is a new thing. What if I rely on him, and he lets me down?”
Or reverts back to the number one bachelor of Portland.
Or decides to go on a bender.
Or bangs two flight attendants while snorting a line of coke.
The options are endless. He’s a beautiful man with a bottomless bank account and a history of bad decisions. And absolutely no history in anything more than being Down To Fuck. I’ve never even seen him with the same girl twice in a row.
Sure, last night, before the baby news, he sounded like he wanted us to reconnect. Now? He might be on a one-way trip to Cabo at this very moment. Isn’t that what playboys do? Go on vacation and Instagram it while the plebs toil?
“He did get you out of that felony situation.”
I squint at my best friend. “He’s also the reason I was arrested.”
“Tomato, tomahto.”
“I’m not saying I won’t give him a chance, but we’re talking about having a child.” The more I talk about it, the more confident I am that I need to be smart about Drew. If those weeks after the cabin are any indication, I’m already in too deep with him. Add a baby to the mix, and I know I’ll lose it if he hurts our kid because he reverts to his old w
ays.
“Promise me you’ll give him a chance to gain your trust. Like you said, he has come a long way since you first met him.”
It should say something that Evie, who has never been Drew’s biggest fan, is advocating on his behalf.
I’m guessing she had a front-row seat to his recovery after he landed in the hospital last March. If Josh was there for him, Evie likely was there too.
I glance away, annoyed with myself for feeling jealous that I had no clue Drew was gravely ill, but my friends did.
Not that this would’ve changed anything, my inner voice reminds me. Why would she have told you about Drew? All you’ve ever done is complain about him.
My conscience twinges, reminding me how wrong I’ve been about Drew, because once I gave him an opportunity to redeem himself at the cabin, he came through with flying colors. And if I was that off base then, maybe I’m misjudging him again now.
Needing to change the subject, I give her a look. “You really had no idea Drew and I hooked up over Thanksgiving before last night? Didn’t Drew tell Josh something? Those two gossip more than we do.”
“Josh has been vague about what he knows. He kept telling me I needed to hang out with you.” Evie thinks about it longer and frowns. “Damn it, he’s been holding out on me!”
I laugh and get up, gather our trash, and hook my arm in Evie’s. As we’re making our way through the food court, her advice echoes in my mind.
Maybe she’s right and I need to give Drew a chance to step up. If that’s what he wants to do.
Thinking back to the cabin, I remember how much it seemed to mean to him that I recognized the changes he’d made in his life.
Ugh, I don’t want to be the person who throws his past mistakes in his face.
Guilt swells in my chest at the idea of barricading him from the opportunity to be a part of this. That is, if he wants to be a part of the whole baby thing.
Shit, I really need to talk to him.
Clearing my throat, I squeeze Evie’s arm. “I guess I could use your help with a Christmas gift. I have no idea what to get the guy who knocked me up.”
She gives me a wide smile. “His birthday is in a few days too.”
All the more reason to dial back my ball-busting ways when it comes to Drew, I suppose, and maybe extend a peace offering.
What do you get the guy who has everything? I mean, aside from a baby?
23
Drew
I’m roasting by my Bee’s flickering fireplace, sweltering in an ugly Christmas sweater of an anatomically-correct reindeer—he’s got shiny silver balls in the right places.
Shazam’s nipping at my toes.
My Bumble Bee’s playing Bing Crosby yuletide carols, and she’s dressed up in one of her signature tracksuits. She unwrapped two from me earlier this evening. In return, she gave me a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles wallet, saying it was my favorite when I was little.
I may be almost thirty, but since she gave it to me, I’m using it. I’ve already transferred my driver’s license and cards into it.
Bee bustles to the table set for two, her hands swallowed by huge oven mitts, cradling a covered casserole dish. Rising from her flowered armchair by the fire, I mosey into her tiny dining room and take an appreciative sniff. “Whatever you made is mouthwatering. Can I help?”
She tuts. “You sit down. Let an old woman have the pleasure of serving a perfectly cooked roast.”
Ignoring her protest, I snag a warm dish of Brussels sprouts and mock mashed potatoes—really cauliflower—from the kitchen and haul them to the table. She’s set it with our traditional décor—a tabletop Santa who drops his drawers when you pull his hand. She retrieves the last dish, sets it down with a flourish, and beams.
A pang of something fierce hits my solar plexus when my Bee settles across from me. At eighty-seven, she’s going strong now, but how many more holidays do I have with her? Her eyes shine as she reaches over and holds my hand, squeezing mine with her surprisingly firm grip under thin, papery skin.
“Merry Christmas, Andrew.”
“Merry Christmas.”
As I sip sparkling water and she drinks cider, we serve ourselves and dig in. She tells me all about last week and the way she cleaned Tyrone’s clock at bingo. While her meal is tasty and I love my Bumble Bee, I can’t help but think this celebration feels incomplete. The table is missing a place—the one with the woman carrying my child.
What is K-dawg doing today? Will she spend the day with her family? What are they like?
They’re the grandparents of my child, and I don’t even know them. She doesn’t know mine, either.
Oh God, my parents are going to be grandparents. How will I break the news to them?
And how is Kendall feeling? Does she have morning sickness? When is her first doctor’s appointment?
Fuck it. After we finish eating, I’m texting Kendall. Enough with this time apart.
“Were you listening?” Bumble asks.
Busted. “What? Sorry, no.”
“Is it your redhead? The one who’s got your boxers in a bundle?”
I can’t glare at my grandma, even though she deserves it for being so prescient. “Yes.”
She grins like Shazam with a mouthful of feathers. He’s crawled in my lap to sniff at the roast. “Do tell.”
While it might be weird, my grandma has always been my confidante. Since the rest of my family is so judgy, her unconditional love and acceptance has gotten me through tough times. I know that no matter how hard I fuck up, my gran will hug me, scold me, give me a cookie, and help me through it.
I’ll do anything for her, although she’s too proud to accept money, instead choosing to live in the modest home she’s owned her entire life. Over the years, I’ve tried to shelter her from some of the more sordid details of my life, but she’s tough. I bet even this won’t shock her.
“So, you know I’ve gotten into trouble a few times in my life…”
My gran humors me by adopting a serious expression to mask her dancing eyes. “I’m aware of it occurring once or twice.”
Understatement of the millennia.
“Well, up on Mount Hood—” My cell phone interrupts my confession. I set down my napkin and furrow my brows. Who calls on Christmas? Is it KK? “Do you mind if I get that?”
“Not at all.”
I leap across the room, dislodging Shazzy and cringing at what an obedient boy I am heeding Kendall’s beck and call. Then I realize I don’t care. I just want to talk with her.
The number isn’t familiar, but I answer anyway. “This is Drew.”
“Mr. Merritt. This is Pearl Collins.” My parents’ social secretary is calling me on Christmas Day. She rushes along before I have a chance to hang up on her. “The senior Mr. and Mrs. Merritt asked me to follow up on your response to the invitation for their New Year’s Eve soirée. You would be most welcome to attend. Would you like to RSVP yes?”
Seriously?
Bumble can tell by my expression who’s on the phone and rolls her eyes. I pace around the living room.
“Let me get this straight. My parents don’t even give you Christmas off?”
“I’m pleased to be of assistance to your family, Mr. Merritt. Shall I put you down for attendance?”
“No,” I spit out. “I have other things to do.”
Pearl takes a sharp breath. “Very well, Mr. Merritt. Thank you. A happy Christmas to you.”
While I can’t get out of seeing my parents forever, a party with people who fake interest in me sounds as fun as knee surgery. Maybe I can put off an in-person visit until next year.
Or until Kendall is showing.
I gotta talk to her.
My fingers press the letters on my phone screen.
Hey, Ken Doll. Lay off the eggnog.
Then I add, Miss you. Merry Christmas. We should talk.
Three animated dots tell me she’s typing.
Thanks. Happy holidays. I can come over later, if y
ou want.
A sense of relief washes over me as I text her my address, realizing she’s never seen my place. We know each other so well in some respects, but in others we’re almost strangers.
Strangers who are going to have a kid together.
When I peer up, I realize my gran has been watching my every move with amusement as she chews her roast. Of course she knew exactly who called. And who I’m texting with urgency. She points to my phone with her knife. “I like this one. She keeps you on your toes.”
“I know. Kendall’s going to be doing that for the next eighteen years at least.”
If I was in a laughing mood, my gran’s face would be comical. She drops her fork with a clatter on the table. “What are you saying?”
“It’s early, but we just found out Kendall is pregnant.”
“With your child?”
Kendall and I might not have always gotten along, but if there’s one thing I do know, it’s that she would never lie about something like this.
“Yes. It’s mine.”
She purses her lips and picks up her utensil. “Well. This is verrry interesting.”
I return to my seat across from her. “You’re taking this rather well given that I impregnated a woman out of wedlock.”
“Andrew, I served you Christmas dinner while you’re wearing that sweater.” She gestures generally at the reindeer’s balls. “I can handle a little pregnancy.”
“I don’t know if I can though,” I mutter.
“I’ve lived long enough to go through a few surprises like this. When I was a young woman, several of my friends were married, only to have a child seven months later. Spoiler alert, as you say: People have sex before marriage.”
“I always knew you were a realist.”
“Yes. I am. And realistically, I think you will learn to be a very good father,” she says with a smile.
I’m glad she has some faith in me, because I don’t.
When we’re finished with dinner, I help her clean up at lightning speed, then race home to meet Kendall.
* * *
An hour later, after I’ve changed into sweats and a tee, my intercom buzzes. While I’m waiting for her to go up the elevator, I pace until the doorbell rings. I bound to the door and open it to a flushed Kendall, bundled in a big winter coat.