His head cocked to the side, Doug says, “Where did that come from?”
“Where did what come from?” I repeat, confused.
Doug shakes his head. “Where did you get the idea my dreams included having children? We never really discussed it.”
I bite my lip. “I know we didn’t, and I’m so sorry you didn’t feel comfortable admitting it to me.”
His brow creased, Doug says, “There was nothing to admit. My relationship with you is—and always was—more important to me than having a family with anyone else. If it happens, it happens. All I want is you.”
“That’s not what Lindsay said—”
His eyes wide, Doug interrupts me. “When did you talk to Lindsay?”
I recall the day I ran into her in Sephora. “I think it was April. She was shopping with some friends and said you were out with Connor.”
Jerking his head back, Doug says, “Are you sure it was April?”
“Maybe it was March. Or May. It was this spring.” Shrugging, I say, “Why does it matter?”
“Because I broke up with Lindsay in February,” he says matter-of-factly.
My mouth falls open. “I had no idea. I assumed you were still together.” I momentarily think back to the nights I cried myself to sleep, imagining them blissfully happy and in love. Returning to the here and now, I say, “In any event, it was definitely after February. I remember because it was finally warm enough to leave my hat and scarf at home, and I was wearing my funky black and purple Vans, not boots, when I ran to the subway, crying.” My voice trails off at the end of the sentence.
His eyes protruding, Doug says, “She made you cry? What did she say to you?”
Not wanting to revisit the day in detail, I give Doug an abbreviated version of my conversation with Lindsay. I conclude with, “She said you realized we weren’t compatible, and then she thanked me for making you available to her.”
Doug gapes at me incredulously. “And you believed her?”
“Why wouldn’t I? I had no reason to doubt her. Although I was surprised to learn how much you wanted to have a baby.”
Doug’s eyes well up again—which oddly has the effect of completely turning me on. There is something about a sensitive man, especially a gorgeous one who adores me.
“I broke up with her about two weeks after we ran into you at the ice skating rink.” Doug pauses. “When you fell on your ass.”
“You had to mention that part, didn’t you?” I say, shaking my head at him.
“I knew I would never feel for her what I felt for you,” Doug says. “Even though I wasn’t ready to get back together with you, I’d rather be single than jerk an innocent girl around.”
“Only she wasn’t so innocent,” we say in unison.
Doug rolls his eyes. “Jesus. What a psycho.”
“You’re gonna have to curtail the ‘Jesus’ talk in front of my mom and Aunt Helen,” I tease.
“I’ll be a nice agnostic boy in front of your family, I promise.”
“You’re my family,” I say.
“And you’re mine,” Doug says.
“And you’d be okay if we were a family of two?” I hate to be so one-note, but I have to make sure.
Doug gazes at me earnestly. “Kids are too short to get on rollercoasters. We’d have to take turns watching them.”
Nodding, I say, “And the unsubs on Criminal Minds would give them nightmares.”
“And we’d need a lock on our bedroom door for when we…you know.” Doug winks.
“Oh, I know,” I say. “What did the conductor guy say about getting a room? Do they rent by the hour here?”
Giving me a sheepish grin, Doug says, “I want you so badly, I’ll probably last three minutes the first time.”
“That’s okay. You’re a young stud. I’m sure you’ll be ready to go again in no time.”
Glancing at his watch, Doug says, “I’m not getting any younger, and we need to do one more thing before I take you home—to our home—and screw you senseless.”
It’s been so long since I’ve been screwed senseless by Doug and I can’t wait. “What’s the one thing?”
Without answering me, Doug stacks our containers of food and tosses them in the closest garbage can. When he returns to our table, he takes my hand in his. “You ready?”
Feeling like I can take on the world, I nod eagerly.
I stop feeling like I can take on the world the second I step in line to ride the Kingda Ka rollercoaster and the newly constructed Zumanjaro: Drop of Doom. Before the addition of the Drop of Doom, the Kingda Ka was the fastest rollercoaster in the world. Now it’s also the tallest. I dig my fingernails into Doug’s palm and try to breathe easily.
Leaning into me, Doug whispers, “You all right there, kid? You look like you might be sick.”
I swallow hard and wipe the film of sweat from my brow. “I’m fine,” I lie. “Just dandy.”
“Okay,” Doug says with a smile before prying his hands out of my death grip.
From behind us, I hear Jessup and Lloyd chant, “Drop of Doom! Drop of Doom!” and I turn around in time to witness them pumping their fists in the air. They’ve spent the past twenty minutes bragging to anyone within earshot that they’ve already ridden twice.
“You’ll love it,” Melanie assures me.
“How would you know, Mom? You chickened out the last two times,” Jessup mocks.
“I didn’t want all the salt water taffy to go to waste,” Melanie says.
The boys chortle. “Whatever you say.”
Barry pulls his wife into a hug. “Leave your mother alone.” As Melanie rests her head against his chest, he points his finger to her back and mouths, “Chicken.”
I reclaim Doug’s hand. “I’m scared.”
Doug looks at me thoughtfully. “Think of something else that scared you.”
“Asking you to meet me here,” I say without hesitation.
“And how did that turn out?” Doug asks with a crooked smile.
“Pretty well,” I concede.
“Risking your heart is a hell of a lot scarier than any theme park ride, and you did it.” He pauses. “You did it for me, Mags, and I love you for it. Among other things.”
“Are you saying I’m brave?”
Doug nods. “The bravest woman I know.”
It’s not the first time I’ve been called brave, but it’s the first time I agree with the description. The line moves along, and as we follow the thrill-seekers in front of us and lead those in back, it occurs to me that every decision I made over the past year took courage—from confronting Doug about my doubts, to throwing myself into a fling with Philip, to trying rock climbing, to asking Doug’s forgiveness the first time, to taking a chance on Ben, to ultimately admitting Ben wasn’t the right guy for me, to saying no to a second chance with Philip.
And all of my choices led me exactly where I needed to be—holding Doug’s hand as we sit side by side, harnessed in by over-the-shoulder restraints, embarking on the adventure of a lifetime.
In Memory of Alan Blum
You were always a fan and you stood your ground even when I didn’t feel worthy. Whenever I’m down, I recall your words of encouragement and your unflagging faith in me, and I’m lifted up. You may be gone, but you’ll always remain in my heart and memories.
Friendship never dies, especially one like ours. Merrybeth and Alan’s “rappaport” was second to none and will never be duplicated. With all my love. Forever and always.
About the Author
A born-and-bred New Yorker, Meredith Schorr discovered her passion for writing when she began to enjoy drafting work-related emails way more than she was probably supposed to. After trying her hand penning children’s stories and blogging her personal experiences, Meredith found her calling writing chick lit and humorous women’s fiction. Sh
e secures much inspiration from her day job as a hardworking trademark paralegal and her still-single (but looking) status. Meredith is a loyal New York Yankees fan, an avid runner, and an unashamed television addict. To learn more, visit her at www.meredithschorr.com.
Books by Meredith Schorr
JUST FRIENDS WITH BENEFITS
A STATE OF JANE
HOW DO YOU KNOW?
THE BOYFRIEND SWAP
The Blogger Girl Series
BLOGGER GIRL (#1)
NOVELISTA GIRL (#2)
BRIDAL GIRL (#3)
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Henery Press Mystery Books
And finally, before you go...
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BLOGGER GIRL
Meredith Schorr
The Blogger Girl Series (#1)
What happens when your high school nemesis becomes the shining star in a universe you pretty much saved? Book blogger Kimberly Long is about to find out.
With her blog, she works tirelessly by night to keep the chick lit genre alive, helping squash the claim that it’s dead” once and for all. Not bad for a woman who by day ekes out a meager living as a pretty-much-nameless, legal secretary in a Manhattan law firm. While Kim’s day job holds no passion for her, the handsome (and shaving challenged) associate down the hall is another story. Yet another story: Hannah Marshak, one of her most hated high school classmates, has popped onto the chick lit scene with a hot new book that’s turning heads—and pages—across the land.
With their ten-year reunion drawing near, Kim’s coming close to combustion over the hype about Hannah’s book. And as everyone around her seems to be moving on and up, she begins to question whether being a “blogger girl” makes the grade in her offline life.
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BET YOUR BOTTOM DOLLAR
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The Bottom Dollar Series (#1)
Welcome to the Bottom Dollar Emporium in Cayboo Creek, South Carolina, where everything from coconut mallow cookies to Clabber Girl Baking Powder costs a dollar but the coffee and gossip are free. For the Bottom Dollar gals, work time is sisterhood time.
When news gets out that a corporate dollar store is coming to town, the women are thrown into a tizzy, hoping to save their beloved store as well their friendships. Meanwhile the manager is canoodling with the town’s wealthiest bachelor and their romance unearths some startling family secrets.
Pull up a wicker chair, set out a tall glass of Cheer Wine, and immerse yourself in the adventures of a group of women whom the Atlanta Journal Constitution calls, “… the kind of steel magnolias who would make Scarlett O’Hara envious.”
Read all about it at www.henerypress.com
LOVE LITERARY STYLE
Karin Gillespie
They say opposites attract, and what could be more opposite than a stuffy literary writer falling for a self-published romance writer?
Novelist Aaron Mite meets Laurie Lee at a writers’ colony and mistakenly believes her to be a renowned writer of important fiction. When he discovers she’s a self-published romance author, he’s already fallen in love with her.
Aaron thinks genre fiction is an affront to the fiction-writing craft. He often quotes the essayist, Arthur Krystal who says literary fiction “melts the frozen sea inside of us.” Ironically Aaron doesn’t seem to realize that he’s emotionally frozen. The vivacious Laurie, lover of flamingo-patterned attire and all things hot pink, is the one person who might be capable of melting him.
In the tradition of The Rosie Project, Love Literary Style is a sparkling romantic comedy which pokes fun at the divide between low and high brow fiction.
Read all about it at www.henerypress.com
How Do You Know? Page 25