The Baby Plan

by Tia Siren

  Then there was the whole work situation. Today, Brooke had been walking around on pins and needles—probably afraid of losing her job. That was ridiculous. She was the best nurse we’d ever had. And, even with what happened—that wouldn’t change it.

  I took another long swig, and sloshed the beer around my mouth. But then again, Brooke was right. Things couldn’t continue indefinitely like this—Jake and I barely speaking, her tiptoeing around as if an extended look at one of us could set the other off. Which it did, actually. It pained me to see the way she was with Jake— it pained me. And yet, wasn’t that better than not having her at all? Brooke was the most remarkable woman I’d ever met; wouldn’t I kick myself if I didn’t at least give this crazy-ass thing a try? And what if I agreed to it, but Jake didn’t—would Brooke still refuse to give us a go?

  I swirled my beer glass with my hand, so that the dregs in the bottom shook around. So many questions, and so few answers.

  I cast a sad glance across the half-empty bar. There was nobody else here like me—drowning their sorrows—not yet. No, there was an attractive couple, serenely feeding each other green beans. There was a gaggle of older women in the one corner, guffawing and gossiping, exclaiming about something or another. And then, in the far corner, there was a family. They looked like a prototype for the American Dream—a handsome husband and a pretty blonde wife, and a rosy fat little baby. They were all smiling at each other, clearly happy. If I was being perfectly honest, wasn’t that what I had imagined for myself eventually? Maybe not now, but ten years from now or something. That’s how it went—you meet the girl, you have the family— how was I supposed to do any of that now? Have a kid and raise it with two fathers?

  I poured most of what remained in my pitcher into my glass. Really, it wasn’t like I’d been raised normally or right myself—instead of parents, I’d basically had a grandmother for God’s sake. And I’d turned out okay—more or less.

  “Mark, you sure you’re ok?” Natalia asked.

  Her beautiful face was set into a sympathetic expression, her blue eyes seeking out mine.

  My ‘yes’ lie was on the tip of my tongue, yet I couldn’t quite say it. Because the truth was—I wasn’t okay. Not one bit. I wasn’t okay, being alone here—when the only place I wanted to be was with Brooke.

  I took a long gulp of my beer, until it was finished. Then, setting the glass on the counter, I told her the truth.

  “No, I’m not. But I will be.”

  I walked out over the black tile floor, out to the cool air outside. Right outside the door there, I sucked in a deep breath of fresh air. Yep, I knew exactly what I needed to do—and who I needed to see.

  It took a while to flag down a cab—it was like the bastards could smell my drunkenness from a block away. Anyway, once I clambered in, I gave the driver Brooke’s address and we were off.

  My cab driver was named Terence. He was a smallish man with a sparse little beard and darting eyes.

  “You ever loved someone who didn’t love you back, Terence?” I asked him.

  He gave me the measured look of the cab driver who has had to transport many a talkative drunk customer.

  “Yes.”

  “And what was it like?” I asked.

  “Horrible,” he said. For a second his eyes stopped darting, fixed on a point ahead of him, then drooped, “I would’ve given anything to have it work out.”

  Anything, eh? I studied Terence’s face, which had returned to normal, eye-darting and all. Was that what I’d give to be with Brooke—anything? Even her being with my best friend, too? I wasn’t sure anymore.

  Getting to Brooke’s apartment was a job and a half. At first, I’d had to spar with the front desk attendant, who’d tried to claim there was no Brooke in the apartment. Finally, I’d snapped and stormed off myself, and located a light-up guest directory and phone. Dialing the number beside Brooke’s name brought no response on the phone I was holding. I did it several times, before cursing and giving up. Fear panged through me—what if Brooke was over at Jake’s right now?

  Finally, I staggered up to the elevator and put my key in a slot by the elevator buttons and turned it. To my surprise, the elevator button lit up and, seconds later, the elevator itself had come.

  I whooped, then clambered on. Through my desperate directory perusing and Brooke buzzing, I had discovered she was in Room 812. So, up to Floor 8 I went.

  At first, when I knocked on the door, there was no response. But several knocks later, Brooke was opening the door, eyeing me sleepily.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  God, she was so pretty, even half-asleep. Between the way her hair was all balled up in a sloppy bun, and her half-open tired eyes—I could have kissed her right now.

  “I, I’m drunk,” I said, “Can I come in?”

  She wavered, as if unsure if letting me in was the right thing to do

  “I came to see you,” I admitted, “What you told me has been messing with my head. Please, Brooke.”

  At this, her face softened and, nodding, she let me in.

  Inside, her apartment was as clean and orderly as I’d expect—hell there wasn’t even a dirty dish in the sink.

  “It’s nice,” I said, my gaze going to her.

  She was wearing these frog pajamas, but really, I just wanted to see what was underneath. I lurched ahead, my arms closing around her. Brooke allowed me that hug. I pressed all of me onto her—my tired arms, my hardening dick, my loopy head, my sadness, my longing, and my grief. And, when she drew away, I saw she had some of that in her eyes, too.

  “I’m really tired,” she said, keeping her gaze fixed over my shoulder, “You okay with sleeping on the couch?”

  No sooner had I said “Yeah, I’m—” then was she helping me over to a grey couch.

  “I really like you,” I said, as she helped lower me down.

  She smiled in spite of herself, but then the smile drooped.

  “I really like you too, Mark. But I meant what I said.”

  “I know I—it’s just fucked, isn’t it? And what about Jake? I should talk to Jake,” I said, half-to-myself.

  Brooke patted my chest, an affectionate look coming over her face.

  “You should.”

  As she turned to go, I said, “But Brooke?”

  She paused.

  “Yeah?”

  “Have you ever liked someone so much it hurt?”

  A shadow passed over her eyes, as she sat on the armrest of the couch.

  “Yes, I have.”

  She said it so simply, so sadly. Did she mean what I think she meant?

  When she rose, I couldn’t leave it like that.

  “And what did you do? What are you supposed to do?”

  She kept her gaze far-off. As if sensing that meeting my eye would be the start of a dance between our bodies that couldn’t be stopped.

  “I don’t know what you’re supposed to do, Mark. I don’t know much of anything anymore.”

  This she said even quieter and more miserably than the last statement, so much that my heart ached. Looking at her like that, so tense and upset, everything in me wanted to make it better. I wanted to stand up and cup her head against my chest. I wanted to envelop her sadness in my arms, rock it to sleep, stroke her hair until we both forgot what we were here for. But I could see that Brooke was tired and wouldn’t want that—as much as she may have needed it.

  I closed my eyes, but she was there too. Brooke. Still in the room, but naked—strutting towards me. Grinding herself up on me.

  “Goodnight Mark,” she said.

  I opened my eyes and it was the real Brooke who’d said it. The one who wouldn’t have me—at least not in the way I needed her.

  “Wait, Brooke,” I said.

  I strained my head up to meet her eye. For the life of me, I couldn’t keep my eyes off her pouty little lips.

  “I shouldn’t kiss you, should I?”

  She smiled wearily, as if she’d already
answered this question a hundred times.

  “No, you shouldn’t, Mark.”

  “But it would feel good, wouldn’t it?” I continued.

  “It would,” she said with a nod.

  “But can’t we—I mean can’t I—just for a second?”

  Right now, the thought of not kissing her now—of never kissing her again—seemed unbearable.

  “Goodnight Mark,” she said.

  And then she’d walked away. I still wanted to kiss her but she was unreachable in the dark— unreachably far. My mind was too fuzzy—and even my tongue was fuzzy. Fuzzy-stupid, that was why I’d driven her away. Now—and maybe for good.

  This time when I closed my eyes, she was there again. Naked and irresistible—irresistibly out of reach. I called out to her and she giggled. As I staggered through the darkness after her, onward she went. Always out of reach, farther than I could get. And when, I finally reached her, when I pounced on her flighty fleeting form—she was gone. My hands clasped on nothing, my trembling heart moaned. She was gone—gone entirely. In chasing her, I’d driven her away.

  I woke up with my head hammering and sick from the nightmare. It had been stupid, and hazy— in that purgatory between being awake and asleep. Now, everything was fuzzier than ever—as was my earlier conclusion that I couldn’t share her—not ever.

  Yes, in this fuzzy stupid state, a small part of me thought differently. What was sharing Brooke compared to losing her entirely?

  Chapter 22

  Brooke

  A knock was my alarm clock. Or, rather, a series of them. Knock-knock-knock. Knock-knock-knock.

  My first instinct was just to roll over and go back to sleep, but something told me to get up. Stretching, I padded over to the front door. I peeked in the little eye-hole, then inwardly cursed. It was Jake.

  “Hey,” he said, as I opened the door.

  “Hey,” I said.

  I rubbed my eyes, trying to get my brain into functioning mode. Right now, I was just awake enough to realize that Jake being here while Mark was sleeping on the couch was bad.

  “I brought coffee and a donut for you,” he was saying, lifting a paper bag he had in his hands.

  “Okay,” I said stupidly.

  The best thing to do would be to think of some excuse—but I was coming up with nothing.

  “Thanks, do you want to take it out somewhere?” I asked, cheerfully, “If you’d just wait outside, I could go get dressed and—”

  “Yoooooo.”

  Hearing Mark’s sleepy voice behind me, my shoulders sagged. So much for getting out of here.

  Now Jake’s eyes narrowed with distrust.

  “I thought you said—”

  “And I meant it, nothing happened,” I said, quickly, “Mark showed up here at one o’clock in the morning drunk. He slept on the couch.”

  Blearily, Mark stumbled to the door. He wore his boxers and a half-asleep expression.

  “Brooke speaks the truth,” he said, “No intercourse of any kind occurred—except for the hugging kind.”

  Jake’s suspicious gaze flicked to me and I sighed.

  “What he means is, all we did is hug. I meant what I said to both of you. Since I like you both equally, it’s not fair for me to just be with one—and that includes hooking up.”

  Jake’s expression softened.

  “Okay.”

  “So, what exactly are you doing here?” Mark asked, scratching his hand through his sandy hair.

  “I thought I’d surprise Brooke with breakfast,” Jake said, coolly.

  The two men stared each other down. For a second, I was afraid one of them was going to snap at the other, or worse—actually resort to physical violence again. But then, Mark cracked a dopey grin, and patted Jake on the back.

  “Guess great minds think alike.”

  Jake gave him a sheepish smile.

  “I guess there are enough donuts to share.”

  Mark pounded him on the back again, then ambled over to the table.

  “Knew there was a reason I was your friend.”

  “Yes,” Jake said smoothly, sitting down beside him, “My superior surgeon skills.”

  Mark snorted.

  “Oh please, just because you help every other kid that gets a busted-up face does not mean you have more skills.”

  Jake broke a chocolate dip donut in half, handing the smaller one to Mark.

  “Maybe we should ask Brooke,” he suggested, glancing at me.

  I threw up my hands and joined them at the table.

  “No way,” I said, “You’re not baiting me into a conversation about your skills. We’ve seen how well that sort of thing has gone for us.”

  Silence. I inwardly groaned. Just when things were starting to get normal again, with the two men joking, had I actually gone and ruined it?

  “Should we talk about it now?” Mark asked, eating the donut in one mighty bite.

  Jake checked his Rolls Royce watch, then shook his head with a frown.

  “Not unless we want to be late to work. We have half an hour to get there as it is.”

  Mark emptied the bag of donuts on the table.

  “I’d better help you guys finish this then.”

  Jake elbowed him.

  “Knew it was a mistake giving you the first one.”

  Mark took a big bite of a donut, making a face.

  “Is that any way to talk to your potentially reinstated best friend?”

  A wry smile came over Jake’s face.

  “No, I guess not.”

  He glanced at me.

  “So, we could talk about it tonight?”

  I nodded, smiling. My heart buzzed with excitement.

  “That works for me if it works for you guys.”

  Polishing off the rest of the donut, Mark grimaced.

  “Eh, not sure that’ll work for me, actually.”

  “What, why not?” Jake said, “You’re busy?”

  “Actually yes,” Mark said, haughtily, “I have a drinking date with my new best friend.”

  “Oh really?” I asked, smirking at him.

  “Yes, him and my new girlfriend. So, it’s me, Dake, and Drooke.”

  Jake and I cracked up at that, while Mark maintained “No, seriously guys, we’ve become really close. We’ve bonded over our love of Instagram and little poofy puppies.”

  My phone rang.

  “Hey Karly,” I said, “Now’s not a really good time.”

  “They’re totally there, aren’t they?” her knowing voice replied.

  “Yes, but—”

  “Are you talking about us?” Mark asked, shooting me a scolding look.

  “No,” I said, fighting to keep the smile off my face.

  “LIAR!” he and Karly yelled at once.

  “Put them on the line!” Karly cried.

  “No way,” I said, “I’m hanging up now.”

  “What is she saying?” Jake asked.

  “Nothing, I—”

  “Oh come on, Brooke, don’t you want your best friend’s approval on your boyfriends?”

  “They are not my boyfriends, and—”

  “Okay, now you’re definitely letting me on the line,” Mark said, grabbing the phone out of my hand.

  “Mark!” I cried, but it was too late.

  “Yes, this is Mark,” he was saying.

  He laughed.

  “I think we both know I only have the most honorable of intentions for Brooke. So far, we’ve progressed to her showing me her ankles, and it’s been, well, thrilling.”

  He laughed.

  “What am I willing to do to get Brooke’s best friend’s approval? Hm,” he rubbed his temple with his forefingers, then his eyes lit up. “How about set you up with my best friend?”

  He winked on Jake, who glowered back at him.

  “Yeah, yeah, I was just kidding, too. Though seriously, I’ll buy you a cake or something. I need all the best friend approval I can get.”

  More laughter, then, “Yeah, ye
ah, I’ll put him on.”

  He shoved my phone out to Jake, who accepted it gingerly.

  “Yes, this is Jake,” he said, his voice uncertain.

  He laughed.

  “Yeah, I guess you could say I’m the nicer one.”

  Jake smirked at Mark, who gave him the finger.

  “Oh, he did, did he?” he said, casting a dubious look at Mark.

  “And that means I have to get two?”

  Jake let out a low exhale.

  “Huh, we’ll have to see about that.”

  Silence, then “Okay, yeah, I’ll put her on the line.”

  As soon as I said, “Karly,” her cocky voice said, “You so owe me.”

  I sighed, although I was smiling.

  “Are you actually going to make them buy you cakes to earn your approval?”

  “Hell yeah, I am,” Karly said with a giggle, “You can tell them I’m dead serious. If these guys are really into you and are as rich as you say they are, then a cake or two should be no problem. Actually, switch it around—have Mark buy the two cakes. Since Jake did take you out on that nice date.”

  “Isn’t it a bit pointless, though?” I asked.

  She let out a peal of delighted laughter, as if pleased I had caught on so readily.

  “Brooke. Come on. The hot docs are crazy about you—why not have a bit of fun with it? Anyway, when did a little cake hurt anyone?”

  “You’re crazy,” I told her, giggling myself.

  “You love it,” she said.

  Jake was mouthing at me “We have to go,” so I told Karly, “We gotta hit the road— you and your cake obsession are going to make me late for work.”

  “Tell them I’m 100% serious!” Karly was saying as I hung up.

  Once I did, both Jake and Mark were looking at me expectantly.

  “So,” Jake said.

  “Was she actually serious?” Mark said.

  “Yes,” I said, “Well no. I mean, she was serious, but you guys don’t have to do that. I mean, buying cakes for my best friend—it’s stupid. She’ll approve of you either way.”

  Silence. I could almost see the gears turning in both of their heads.

  “Well, I’m stopping by a cake shop before work,” Jake said, after a minute, “You two can do what you want.”

  “Fuck you,” Mark said, “If you’re going, I am. No way am I letting you get the upper hand via some bullshit cake bribery.”