Several arms shoot up in the air. I’m at a Midtown hotel, giving a talk on a Tuesday evening to fifty or sixty guys.
I call on a sturdy fellow with glasses in the front row. His hair is military short, and he stands. “What if you’ve got baggage? Like from an ex-girlfriend or ex-wife? That’s my situation, and I’m trying to figure out how to approach the minefield of dating. Any advice you can give about getting back out there for guys like me?”
“I can definitely talk about that. That’s my situation, too,” I say, and he blinks, surprised at first. I’m surprised, too. I haven’t shared the demise of my marriage in my talks before. But this guy is direct, and he’s asking something that matters. Briefly, I think of Cal and what a hard-ass he is, but maybe the old bastard was onto something—speak from the heart, not the dick. “I’m divorced, and let me tell you, it can be hard to get back out there. You think you’re going to be blindsided again,” I say, and the guy nods vigorously. Several others do, too. “You think you can’t possibly ever want anything serious again. Then, sometimes unexpectedly, a woman comes into your life, and she’s not like your ex. She’s not like anyone you’ve ever met. And you just know you have to give it a shot.”
“That’s awesome, man,” the guy says with a smile.
“And the best advice I can give you is don’t let the past hold you back from the present.”
He beams. “And that’s what you did? With your new woman?”
I’m silent for a moment. Is that what I did? Did I give it a shot? I’d like to think so. “Yeah, I did do that.”
He doesn’t need to know the shot didn’t quite work out the way I wanted.
The next night, as I sink into the leather couch in the lounge bar of a swank restaurant, I reflect back on the military dude’s question.
And that’s what you did?
I ask myself if I answered with complete honesty.
I’m not sure I did.
I’m not convinced I went balls-to-the-wall for Nicole. I took what she offered, and only what she offered. I didn’t tell her I wanted her to sweeten the deal. To offer herself, too. I sure as hell didn’t let her know that she and Papaya are a package deal, and I want the whole package.
But I shelve the thought when Flynn, his identical twin brother, Dylan, and Flynn’s divorced friend, Aaron, return with drinks and join me. We’re here to celebrate with Aaron, a stocky guy with a baby face and a good heart. Flynn holds a beer to toast his buddy. When Aaron decided he was ready to try the dating scene again, he hired the Consummate Wingman to give him advice. Naturally, the Consummate Wingman’s unofficial sidekick, Flynn, has been observing the whole time.
I raise my glass and toast. “You ready?”
Aaron smiles. “Ready or not, here I go.”
He takes a drink, inhales deeply, and sets down the glass. He gives us a farewell salute and heads to the hostess stand, then to his table to wait for his date. He’s had a crush on a woman at work, and he finally had the guts to ask her out for dinner after a few coaching sessions.
Aaron moves the linen napkin a centimeter, fiddles with a fork, peers at his watch, and looks at the door. His eyes light up, and I follow his gaze.
A blond woman with her hair in a bun walks in, scans the eatery, and sees him. She waves. He waves back.
I look at Flynn. “He’s on his own now.”
“It’s like the first day at school,” Flynn says, pretending to wipe a tear from his eye.
Dylan mock sniffles, pushing his black glasses up the bridge of his nose. Thank fuck he wears different colored frames than Flynn—when they’re together it’s the easiest way I can tell them apart. “He’s on the bus. We’ll have to be strong and say good-bye.”
I toss a few bills on the table, and we leave.
“You’re awesome, man,” Flynn says, as the three of us amble down the street. “You gave him the confidence he needed to get back out there.”
“To just take a risk,” Dylan seconds.
Risks. Chances. Shots.
As I consider the men surrounding me, I have to ask myself if they’re taking bigger chances than I am.
Honestly, it’s not that hard to answer.
And later, it’s not that hard to figure out what I need to do to put myself on the line.
Thirty-Eight
Nicole
My phone rings late on a Tuesday evening.
Late for me, I should say.
It’s nearly nine, and I’m tired because, well, I’m baking another person in my oven. I turn down the volume on the basketball game and grab the phone from the table. “Let us in,” Penny demands when I answer.
“You’re here?”
“Yes, buzz us in now or we’ll throw garter belts and stockings at your window.”
“Such hooligans.” A minute later, I open the door, and Penny and Delaney march into my place. Ruby barks a happy hello.
“Well, hello there,” Delaney says to me and then my dog.
“Hello there to you, too. What brings you here at this hour?”
“It’s not that late, and we love you.” Penny shuts the door behind them and coos at Ruby, who then offers a full flank for proper petting. Naturally, Penny obliges for a minute.
My friends head to my couch and take their spots. I park myself between them as Ruby sprawls on the carpet, watching us with avid interest.
Penny reaches into a canvas bag she has with her. She takes out a pint of Ben & Jerry’s. “We’re getting you buzzed first.”
“On ice cream?”
“Of course,” Delaney says. “It’s like a pregnant woman’s vodka, right?”
“I’ve no idea where that logic comes from, but I’m not turning down chocolate therapy.” I pop open the pint then stretch my arm toward the kitchen and grunt. “Can’t. Reach. Spoons. From. Here.”
Delaney rolls her brown eyes. “You only have three and a half more months to use that excuse to get us to do things for you.”
“Four months,” I mutter, thinking that Ryder probably knows precisely how many days are left.
“Besides, I brought spoons.” Delaney grabs three metal spoons from the bag, along with a huge dog bone.
I give her a look. “I know I’ve been hungry, but I’m not that hungry.”
Ruby leaps from the floor, rearranges herself into a proper sit, and stares unabashedly at the bone.
“Can I give it to her?” Delaney asks.
“You better.”
“Good girl.” Delaney offers the treat to Ruby, who returns to her bed, the bone in her jaw, and proceeds to bestow all the love in the universe on it.
I dig into the ice cream. After three bites of chocolate, I arch a brow. “Why are you here, again? Besides your boundless love of me.”
“Funny you should ask,” Penny says as she dives in for a spoonful. “We decided there’s something you need to add to your agenda tomorrow.”
“At my doctor’s appointment?”
They nod in unison, and Delaney goes next. “While you’re there, you should tell Ryder you love him.”
I nearly spit out my ice cream. “You can’t be serious?”
“Honey, you’re miserable without him,” Penny says sweetly.
I balance the pint on top of my curved belly. “Hey, look at that. No hands.”
“Nicole.” The admonishment comes from Penny.
“No, seriously.” I point with both hands to this amazing feat I’ve pulled off. “Have you ever seen a pregnant woman balance ice cream on her belly?”
Penny rolls her eyes. “I bet there are tons of YouTube videos of women balancing ice cream on their big bellies.”
I harrumph.
Delaney stares at me pointedly. “You are absolutely miserable.”
“Define miserable.”
Delaney gestures to my belly. “Balancing ice cream pints for amusement because you miss the man you were too scared to say you loved is the definition of miserable.”
I scoff.
“You do
love him,” Delaney adds.
“Duh.”
“How much do you love him?” Penny asks.
I glance at my dog, chowing down on her bone. “Like a dog loves a bone.”
She smiles and claps with glee. “I love dog analogies.”
“I do, too, especially because you can’t fast-talk your way out of this,” Delaney says with a smirk. She drops a hand to my knee. “And what does a dog do with a bone?”
My eyes stray to Ruby. Her paws grip the bone fiercely. Her jaw is wrapped tight around it. I glare at them and grumble. “You two set me up for that.”
They cackle evilly.
“A dog doesn’t let go,” I answer.
Delaney squeezes my knee. “Don’t you let go, either.”
Penny pats my shoulder. “Go get your bone. Or, in this case, your man.”
“But what if he doesn’t love me back? And what if telling him I love him scares him away from the baby?” A new worry takes root. “I never thought I needed a father for my baby, but now that he wants to be involved, I don’t want to freak him out.”
Delaney shoots me a gentle smile. “If this frightens him away from the baby, then he was never going to be a great dad in the first place. And I can’t imagine a man like him would be that kind of a pansy.”
I manage a small laugh. “Pansy he is not.” But my laughter fades quickly. Delaney didn’t answer my other question, and this one gnaws at me. “What if he doesn’t love me?” My voice is tiny, stretched with the threat of tears.
She grabs my hand. “What if he doesn’t? You have us, and Ruby, and an ice cream-balancing belly. You’ll be no worse off than you are now. And you have your baby.”
I do have so much in my life. Is it possible I might have more? I close my eyes and rewind to my last night with Ryder, to the way he touched me, how he held me, the way he worshipped me. Maybe it wasn’t only me, the mother of this child, that he was attracted to. Maybe it’s me, all of me, the woman and the mother-to-be.
I remember his words . . . the ones about me.
Missed you. Missed this.
It’s the only place I wanted to be.
Look at me.
Can I see you tonight?
I’ve changed. I now want someone in my life as more than a donor, so is it possible he’s changed, too? A stupid grin forms on my face. Could a girl be this lucky in real life?
Katherine’s opens at nine a.m. I’m here at three minutes before the hour. The second the doors swing in, I race to the counter where I bought the key chain many months ago. Alongside its gorgeous platinum rings and stunning necklaces, this classy store also carries a handful of little novelty key chains, like the tadpole. When I bought that one, I spotted the key chain I want now.
I squeal when I see it’s in stock—a woman in silver, like the sexy silhouettes of women’s bodies on the mud flaps of trucks. It’s classy kitsch, and I love it. It’s exactly what I want to say to Ryder.
I want you to have the woman, too.
A saleswoman strides up to me. “Can I help you?”
I bounce on my toes as I point. “I’ll take that.”
Twenty minutes later, I carry the box into work as my stomach tries to crawl up my esophagus.
Oh wait. That’s nerves. I’m a cauldron of churning emotions—hope and fear and happiness and doubt. But I’m going to do this anyway. I’m going to pursue the impossible dream, and there are tons of top five reasons why this might rank as the craziest thing I’ve ever done. But there’s one reason why this might be the best choice I’ve ever made.
* * *
Top Reason to Tell Him You Love Him
* * *
1. He’s the one.
* * *
I knock on his open office door, but he’s not in there. Then, I remember. Right. He’s probably recording right now. Damn my baby brain. But I don’t leave the box on his desk this time. He doesn’t like surprises, and this is something I need to do face-to-face. Clutching it tight in one hand, I’m heading to my office when my phone pings.
His name flashes on my screen, and my stomach dips.
My belly flips upside down as I open the message.
* * *
Ryder: Tune in to my show in five minutes.
* * *
They are the longest five minutes in the history of the world. Especially because at four minutes and thirty seconds, I have to pee.
Thirty-Nine
Ryder
“It’s the end of this episode on dating and mating, and before I sign off, I have something to say.”
Across from me, Jason gives a nod, a sign that he’s ready. I tug the mic closer as if I’m getting intimate with it.
I suppose intimacy is a fitting word. It’s the thing I’ve shunned. The thing I fear. The thing I want desperately.
“In the last several months, the show has changed. You might have noticed. Did you notice, Jason?”
“Absolutely. You’ve gotten funnier.”
I laugh. “Dude, I was always funny. Take that back.”
“Fine,” he says in mock indignation. “You’ve gone soft, then.”
I smile. “Some might call it soft. I like to think I’ve become less of an ass.”
I glance at my watch, hoping that a certain someone is listening. Hoping she’ll come stand outside the studio window any second.
Jason snaps his fingers. “Ah, yes. That’s another way to put it. You’ve had a jackass-ectomy.”
I shake my head in amusement. “And it was a painful process, man. Let me tell you. I went kicking and screaming most of the way. But then . . .”
He picks up the thread. “And then?”
I picture Nicole at the diner asking me to give her half the ingredients she needed, and it’s like a bulb glows in my chest. “A certain someone came into my life.”
Jason hums an impromptu romantic tune.
“Our listeners might recall the series we did on ten dates to winning a woman’s heart,” I say, sneaking a peek at the window once more. A co-worker walks past us on the other side of the glass, head bent over his phone. No sign of Nicole.
“Start with a trapeze, and you never know where it might lead,” Jason tosses out.
I glance at the window again. Where is she? “You might very well wind up where I am, several months later,” I say, keeping my voice cool and calm.
“And where is that, Ryder? Tell us where you are.”
She’s still not here, but I’ve got to jump off the cliff regardless.
“I’m in love,” I say, holding my arms out wide. “I’m madly in love with the woman I took on the trapeze. She turned my world upside down.”
Jason smiles, but he’s quiet now because the time for banter is over. It’s all soliloquy as I put my heart on the line, for everyone to hear.
“And I want to tell our listeners a little bit about how I fell in love with her.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see a flash of red. A curve of purple.
I turn the chair, moving the hanging mic with me, and I see her. Her cheeks are flushed, like she just ran down the hall. Now she’s staring into the window of the studio with a wild grin that tells me to keep going. She wants to hear what I have to say. Her earbuds are in her ears, her phone is in her hand, and the stage is mine, and mine alone.
I can do this. I can say this. The chance to be with her is worth the risk.
“Falling in love with her was different than falling in love with our baby,” I say, and Jason’s jaw comes unhinged, and he points to Nicole’s stomach and to me, the question in his eyes.
I nod a yes to him, but keep my eyes on her.
“Yes, that’s right. The woman I took on the dates with me is having a baby. She’s having our baby, and I couldn’t be happier about that”—I pause for a second, realizing I don’t need to go into detail about the timing—“development. With the baby, it was love at first heartbeat. As soon as I heard the galloping horses, I was done for. No holding back. That kid is mine, and I�
��d do anything for my baby.”
Nicole’s lips quiver, and I feel a starburst of emotions—love, happiness, excitement.
“But falling for the mother of my unborn child? I’m not going to lie. When you’ve had your heart eviscerated, it’s a little harder to love again. I tried to fight it. I tried to pretend it was something else, but I’m not some unaware fool who doesn’t know better.”
Nicole brings her hand to her mouth, pressing her fingers against her trembling lips. Her eyes widen, brimming with tears. My heart grows bigger in my chest.
“Every day, I fell a little deeper. For her mind, her soul, her body, and, most of all, her heart. Her wonderful, huge, amazing heart that cared for me, looked out for me, and has this endless well of love.” My throat swells with emotion as I profess my deepest feelings for the woman on the other side of the window. She is stunning with her beautiful round belly, the tears streaking down her lovely face, and her fingers pressed to the glass as if she’s trying to reach me. To touch me. But she already has. “Her love, you see—it’s limitless. And I want her to know I’m not just in love with the baby—I’m in love with the woman. Mad, passionate, she’s-the-one love.” I point to her, and she clasps her hands to her heart and mouths I love you, too. Nothing in the whole wide world can contain my grin as I finish, “I am wildly in love with the mother of my child, with the woman I took on the trapeze lesson, to the cupcake shop, on the geocaching date. With the love of my life. And that’s how you love a woman. With your whole heart. Thanks for tuning in.”
I turn off the mic, and Jason gives me a standing ovation as I leave the booth, yank open the door, and stand face-to-face with Nicole. I cup her cheeks in my hands. She is an open book. I can see how she feels written in her blue eyes. Her wet, tear-stained eyes.
“I love you so incredibly much.” I kiss her tears.
“And I love you so much,” she says, her voice breaking.
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