Kinky Resolutions and Other New Year's Disasters: A Standalone Romantic Comedy

by Frankie Love

  I crack a smile, feeling ridiculous, and do my best sexy saunter out the bathroom door into his bedroom.

  “How do you want me to take your temperature?” I ask coyly. “In your mouth or in your ass?”

  “When you say temperature do you really…”

  “I mean temperature,” I deadpan.

  “But I don’t feel well,” Cooper moans, doing a terrible job of being a patient in need of medical attention. He’s in a pair of low-slung grey sweats, his hair in a sexy man bun, which is a thing – I promise, you just need to see him – and his abs are chiseled to perfection.

  “I can make you feel better,” I tell him, stepping toward him in my white uniform, nurse’s cap, and a stethoscope around my neck.

  “What kind of prescription are you giving me?” he asks, trying hard to take me seriously in this get-up.

  Before answering, I feel a wave of nausea pass over me. It’s irritating considering I have been on a saltine and water diet since last week.

  Trying to compose myself, I try again. “I am giving you a dose of your own medicine.”

  I start to unzip the front of my dress, but before I can even get the zipper past my breasts, I start heaving.

  Vomiting all over Cooper’s bare feet.

  Throwing up all over Cooper’s fantasy.

  19

  Tied Game, Bottom of the Ninth

  December 2017

  “It would be a disaster, except it just can’t be happening.”

  “Except it is happening,” Bridget says. “This is really happening.”

  We are at the women’s clinic where she works. She scheduled me an appointment after I complained of being sick for weeks. I told her about the nurse fantasy and how I had ruined it. I mentioned having been nauseous the week before. She said, “Duh.”

  Turns out she was right.

  There is no denying the facts as I lay on an exam table, with an ultrasound pressed against my belly.

  Thump. Thump. Thump.

  I am pregnant.

  With Cooper Bentley’s baby.

  Bridget hands me my parka as we leave the office. I have a due date. I have a next appointment.

  I have a baby.

  “I just needed to get through this appointment before I talked to Cooper. Now I can. I needed to make sure it was real and not just in my head.”

  “And now?” she asks.

  “I am going to send him my manuscript.”

  She narrows her eyes. “What will that do?”

  “A lot. It will tell him exactly where I stand.”

  “And where do you stand? I mean, for those of us who don’t have access to your memoir?”

  I smile, remembering the day Cooper and I made our Kinky List. “He’s in charge.”

  “That is the strangest thing to hear out of the mouth of a Women’s Studies graduate.”

  “Just don’t say I’m dick-whipped and we’re good to go.”

  20

  Headed for Home

  December 2017

  I call Gracie every day for a week.

  I don’t hear from her. Not once.

  I call Gabe asking for Bridget’s number, and that gets me somewhere.

  “She won’t return my calls. Do you know what’s going on?”

  “I think she just has a lot going on, Cooper. With her book and everything. She got an offer.”

  I didn’t know that.

  But I had an offer too.

  And more than anything I wanted to talk it through with the one person who I couldn’t bear to lose.

  The one person I had learned to love over the course of a year.

  “Can you please tell her to call me.”

  “Of course, Cooper,” Bridget says. “I think she just needs a little bit of time to figure things out.”

  I hang up, pissed.

  I need to figure some things out too.

  I’m about to lose my shit, My family is already over my moodiness, as am I – when a package arrives.

  A manuscript.

  My heart constricts as I read Gracie’s funny, poignant, and heartfelt account of her past year.

  She doubted my commitment. Assumed I was dating other women. She believed I was experienced in ways I certainly wasn’t. Not before her. The book was accurate except it didn’t acknowledge that she was so many of my firsts too. She deserves to know that.

  Gracie had written our story.

  But had taken me out of it.

  I needed to get back in.

  21

  NYE 2017

  He texts me on Christmas.

  Cooper: I know your list is finished, but can I be your NYE date?

  I don’t know what to say at first. Like, pick up the goddamned phone, Cooper. Then I was grateful he hadn’t called.

  I know my voice would crack the moment I heard his voice.

  I’d tell him everything.

  That I wanted him every day for the past year. That I want him now, more than ever.

  That most of all, I want him to want me.

  Me: Of course. I’ll be here.

  He shows up, and my stomach is in knots. And that’s not just because I have 24/7 morning sickness.

  It’s also because I’m torn up, not knowing what comes next.

  “Gracie,” he says, handsome as always in a suit, overdressed for what I’ve decided is going to be a night in my apartment.

  I’m rocking sweats and a sweatshirt that says YES WAY, ROSE.

  “It feels like forever.” I pull open the door, letting him inside.

  “Too long.”

  In my living room, Cooper looks so big, as he walks around, accessing my space. A space that will be home to a baby in about seven months.

  Our baby.

  “Still the most adult twenty-something I know,” he says, eyeing my box of hanging folders.

  “More than you know,” I murmur, walking to the kitchen and grabbing him a beer.

  “What are you drinking,” he asks, loosening his tie after taking the beer from my hand.

  “Seltzer tonight.”

  He eyes me skeptically.

  “Cooper, we really need to talk.”

  “I take it you don’t want to go out?”

  “No. I mean, we really need to have a heart-to-heart.”

  Cooper nods and his eyes are on me like he’s never seen me before. I wonder what he will say when I tell him I made him a father. What will he say when he finds out he is connected to me forever.

  I’d feel bad, but I don’t. I want this baby. I am a Women’s Studies major who discovered that her sexual awakening can lead to bigger things than she ever dreamed of finding.

  A heart within a heart, a life within a life.

  Our baby, in my womb.

  A life that needs me.

  “Gracie,” Cooper says, setting down his beer, facing me. “I need to tell you something to. Let me go first.”

  I frown. “Did you get a job offer?” I’ve been scouring the news and hadn’t heard anything.

  “The Yankees will keep me if I want to stay.”

  “Do you want to stay?”

  “I want you.”

  I’m taken back. “What? What are you talking about, Cooper?”

  “I want you. I read your book. And there is a lot that is slightly skewed–”

  “That’s why I wanted you to read it. To fix any errors.”

  “Is that the only reason you wanted me to read it?”

  I shake my head, my eyes filling with tears. “No. I wanted you to understand me, Cooper, understand where I was coming from.”

  “Thank you.”

  I pull back, confused. “Thank you for what?”

  “For being so honest. I haven’t been as honest with you.” I watch him swallow, his Adam’s apple bobbing, his eyes written with concern. “I haven’t been with anyone else all year. And in the book, I get the impression you thought I had been.”

  “No one else... not in like Tampa or anywhere?”

  �
��Nowhere. When I committed to the Kinky List, Gracie, I committed to you.”

  “Cooper,” I start, my voice so soft.

  “And another thing I wasn’t honest about was my experience.”

  “Experience?”

  “I may have had a hundred women to my apartment, but in every single instance they were one night stands.”

  “I don’t need to know details, Coop,” I tell him, flustered.

  “I know you don’t, but when we conceived the Kinky List, I gave you the impression that I knew a lot more than I actually did. When I handcuffed you to my bed, that was the only time I’d ever handcuffed anyone. In the bedroom or otherwise.”

  “Threesomes or public sex?”

  “Nope.” He shakes his head. “And no foursomes or strip shows or videos. You were so many of my firsts.”

  “Cooper, I have–”

  “Wait, I need you to hear this, Gracie,” he says, pulling me closer to him.

  “What?”

  “I love you. I have for an entire year. Why the hell do you think I wanted to do this list in the first place?”

  “Cooper––”

  “I love you and I’m sorry for not telling you sooner. I got your book and it was amazing but there was just too much that was left out. I want my name in it. I want to be a part of your story. Now and forever.”

  Cooper kneels, eyes up at me, and out of his pocket, he pulls a black velvet box.

  “Marry me. Make me the happiest man to ever play for the Yankees.”

  The ring is a gorgeous ten-carat, princess-cut solitaire. It glitters and glows. It is magical.

  I cover my mouth, shocked and in awe and all my nervous flutterings float away.

  Cooper Bentley loves me.

  “I have to say something first,” I tell him, my eyes full of tears now; this flood is not going to stop.

  “What is it?” Cooper looks up at me, ring in his hand, offering it to me.

  “I’m pregnant, Cooper, we’re having a baby.”

  He shakes his head, absorbing this, and I take the ultrasound photo from the folder hanging in the box. Handing it to him as I explain.

  The due date, when I heard the heartbeat. How the night in Vegas, when we fought... was also the night we made something beautiful.

  “Gracie, we’re having a baby?”

  “Yes, and if it changes what you just said --if you want to walk away -- if this was all a big misunderstanding…”

  “Stop it,” he tells me, pulling me to him, pressing the ring onto my finger. It fits perfectly. “Stop it, Gracie. You said I was in charge? Well, you and me, we’re having a baby and getting married.”

  I laugh, wiping my eyes. I have a ring on my finger.

  “Okay,” I say, laughing.

  “Is that a yes?” he clarifies.

  “It’s a yes.”

  He kisses me, on the lips, then drops to his knees, lifts my sweatshirt, and kisses my belly. He wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me to him.

  I wipe the tears from my eyes, wondering when this life became my own.

  “Cooper, I love you.”

  “Then we need to do number eight.”

  I shake my head, laughing, unable to believe my luck. “There was no number eight on the Kinky List, Cooper.”

  “True, but there is one thing we haven’t done yet.”

  “What’s that?”

  He lifts me, carries me to the bedroom, and places me on the bed.

  “Gracie, you and I, have never made love.”

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  Edited by Larks and Katydids

  Cover by Mayhem Cover Creations

  Copyright © 2016 by Frankie Love

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  For the women who have forgotten how utterly wonderful they are.

  I think you're the bee’s knees. And more.

  You, my dear, are the freaking Queen of your own honey pot. ;)

  xo, frankie

  I

  Courtney’s Story

  Chapter One

  Sipping my hot toddy, I nestled deeper into the plush cushions of the oversized chair in the lodge. Wearing my Uggs, leggings, and a comfy sweater, I was more than ready for a getaway with my two best friends. There was nothing on our agenda besides drinking and relaxing. Callie was already busy booking a massage, and Willow had gone off in search of our room key.

  I appreciated having a few minutes apart from them. We’d been traveling together all morning, and I needed some breathing room. They were my best friends, but I swear Callie had spent the entire car ride lecturing Willow on career options and my ear buds hadn’t canceled out the conversation. I needed some quiet.

  My day-to-day life was loud enough, and with my internship wrapping up I was finally on the downswing of an intense schedule. Not that the magazine industry is ever slow, but I’d worked my ass off for months, and it had paid off.

  I had a full-time job starting next week with the city’s Arts & Entertainment magazine. This was my one weekend off before my first grown-up job, and I was going to enjoy it.

  Sinking deeper into the cushion, I set my phone aside. There was no reception here, which was exactly what I needed: a weekend off the grid. My chest felt warm from the steamy whiskey, and it felt decadent not to be checking my phone every five minutes.

  Looking around the lodge, I thought back to the website for this resort. Willow had insisted we come to this place, Eagle Cove—so when Callie’s boyfriend unexpectedly broke things off with her, and Willow realized she didn’t have any shifts scheduled, we went for it.

  Eagle Cove was a bit more rustic than the website had depicted, but I didn’t care. The views were spectacular. Water views peeked out for every cabin and a giant eagle’s nest was nestled high in the trees. We had taken a private ferry to get here, and we were in the middle of nowhere, an evergreen-covered island oasis in the Pacific Northwest. Some of Willow’s friends had been here for a kayaking trip, and she’d been dying to visit for months.

  She was mostly interested in the hiking, but for me, the soaking tubs were where I wanted to go. The website had shown pictures of three soaking tubs—all different temperatures—and a dry sauna. I was ready to get to our room, put on my swimsuit, and head over to them. I could already imagine closing my eyes as the steam covered me.

  “Wow, Court, you finished your drink already?” Callie’s voice was intense, and it made me wish her long-time boyfriend hadn’t broken up with her right before this getaway. It was only making her come off as more severe.

  “Yeah, what’s it to you?” I said, laughing, refusing to let her get to me.

  “It’s not even dark out.”

  “I didn’t know there were rules about when I could drink.” Callie and I went way back—we had been college roommates—and because of that I usually put up with her bossy attitude.

  Sometimes, though, it was just too much. Today I was in no mood to deal with her bitchiness. “You seriously need to chill out, Callie. You didn’t give Willow a break the whole way here. It’s a little exhausting. This weekend is supposed to be fun.”

  Callie ran her fingers through her blond hair and nodded. “I’ll try.”

  “I know things are hard with the break up and all—”

  “No, you don’t, Courtney. You’ve never had a serious relationship. You don’t
know what this is like.”

  “Okay, harsh much?” I rolled my eyes, which I know is totally obnoxious, but I did not spend five hours in the car to get here just to have her negativity. She was right: I hardly dated, much less had a boyfriend, and although I blamed it on my internship, the truth was I’d never had the guts to put myself out there. “Do you know what’s taking Willow so long?”

  “Who knows. I swear she’s trying to drive me nuts by insisting health insurance is for grown-ups. We are grown-ups.” Callie was right, we were grown-ups, but just barely. We had graduated college and were still just trying to figure out our lives. I had my magazine job, and Callie was working at an advertising agency, but Willow was a barista and for some reason that wasn’t good enough for Callie.

  “I just don’t think it’s any of your business Callie,” I pushed. “She likes her job, and does the best latte art ever—just give her a break.”

  “It’s just that she graduated with honors. She could do anything.”

  Not wanting to talk behind Willow’s back I picked up my mug and walked it back to the bar. By the time I came back, Willow was walking towards us, her bohemian skirt fluttering as she moved through the lobby.

  “What took you so long?” Callie asked.

  “There was the hottest guy in front of me and I couldn’t help flirting.”

  “How hot?” I asked. Even though I hadn’t had a boyfriend in ages, I still wouldn’t pass up details on a hottie.

  “Like hotter-than-Kyle-at-work hot,” she said, knowing my sweet spot. I’d been crushing on Kyle, a food editor, for months, but never had the guts to talk to him. My friends insisted that I was cute; my problem wasn’t my looks. I was just never in the right situation to make a move.

  My internship always came first, because I wanted to land a job so badly. But now I had a job—so maybe when I got back to the city I would get some guts and ask him out.