Unknown

by Kelly, Hazel

  “I lost a year, Maddy. A year I didn’t have to lose.”

  “So now what?”

  “Now I need to refocus and pick a donor already, so I’m not in the same baby-less situation this time next year.”

  “You know I’ll support you, whatever you decide. But I don’t think you did the wrong thing dating Kurt. It’s not like you knew he was a d-bag.”

  “I can’t afford to make that mistake again,” I said. “I have to focus on what’s best for me from now on.”

  “What does Mom think?”

  “You’re kidding, right? Mom wanted to be a grandma yesterday.”

  “Mmm.”

  “Anyway, I don’t know why I’m telling you this. I guess I just need some extra accountability.”

  Maddy’s chin crept forward. “You know I’m not going to bully you into making progress on this baby thing.”

  “Why not?” I asked. “I’ve bullied you loads of times. You owe me.”

  She laughed. “You’re not wrong, but encouraging your sister to try out for the school play or start a fashion blog isn’t exactly the same as encouraging her to inject herself with a stranger’s sperm.”

  “Can’t you pretend it is?” I joked. “For me?”

  She shook her head. “Sorry, sis. No can do. We all have our limits.”

  “Fine. I’ll do it myself.”

  “That’s the spirit! That’s exactly the attitude you need to foster if you’re going to be a single mom.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Thanks for all your help.”

  T W E N T Y

  - Finn -

  I made a reservation at Bandera, my favorite swanky restaurant. It was dim, but not dark, and I figured upscale American fare was a safe bet. The menu was varied, the jazz was live, and even the entrance was dramatic… If “dramatic” was the right word for a glass tunnel showcasing row after row of sizzling rotisserie chickens.

  I arrived first and took a seat at the semi-circular bar, eager to settle the sudden onset of nerves I was feeling, which only got worse when Maeve walked in.

  I swallowed and smiled in her direction, raising a hand casually. The hostess took her coat, revealing a soft-looking navy dress that hugged her in all the right places, the V-neck dipping low enough to show a hint of cleavage. I wondered if she was wearing a fancy bra, and trying to imagine it stoked all my appetites.

  “Hi,” I said, standing to press a cheek to hers as my hand found her lower back.

  “Hi.”

  Part of me wished her hair was down, since I was dying to know how long it was. But her eyes really popped with it pulled back, their sparkle mirrored in the delicate earrings that dangled beside her jawline. “You look good enough to eat,” I said, shamelessly checking her out.

  She blushed.

  “Join me for a drink?” I asked. “Our table won’t be ready for a few minutes.”

  She sat up on the high stool beside mine and set her small purse on the bar. “We didn’t have to come somewhere so fancy.”

  “We did,” I said, sliding the skinny cocktail menu towards her. “Brian gave me a whole speech.”

  Her brows lifted. “Oh yeah?”

  I nodded. “He said you deserve better than the chili dog place I usually treat myself to on Saturday night.”

  Her smile pulled to one side. “What else did he say?”

  “That you’re way out of my league, and I shouldn’t get my hopes up.”

  “He didn’t say that.”

  “No,” I said. “He didn’t.”

  She dropped her eyes to the drinks menu. “I can’t believe you guys were talking about me.”

  “That’s what happens when you leave the bar,” I said with a shrug. “If you’d stayed into the wee hours, you could’ve been in on the gossip session instead of the subject of it.”

  “What else did I miss?”

  “Nothing,” I said. “Oh wait, that’s not true. A guy came in and threw an almost perfect game of darts.”

  Her eyes glinted. “Sounds thrilling.”

  “Beats a root canal.”

  She turned her face towards me. “You’ve had a root canal?”

  I recoiled like the mere suggestion was a scandal. “Of course not. People who floss as much as I do never run into such problems.”

  Her lips twitched with amusement as she returned her attention to the cocktails on offer. “Which of these are you having?”

  “The Dorothy Parker,” I said, pointing down the list. “It’s basically a whiskey sour but the emphasis is definitely more on the whiskey than the sour.”

  She glanced at it.

  “Want to try it?”

  Her eyes bounced between me and my drink. “Sure.”

  I slid it her way and she lifted it to her pink lips.

  “Well?” I asked.

  She set it back down. “That’s good whiskey.”

  “You know your whiskeys?”

  “Wouldn’t say that,” she said. “Only enough to tell if it’s a bad one.”

  “I see. Well, when in doubt, go Irish.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I know that much.”

  “So what are you in the mood for?”

  “Gin?” she asked, looking to me for advice.

  “Go with the Fitzgerald, then. It’s delicious.”

  “Done.” She lifted a hand to get the bartender’s attention and ordered before turning back to me. “So, what did you get up to today?”

  I glanced at the beamed ceiling. “Worked out. Went for a long walk with Otis along the lake. Let him watch another dog play with a dead pigeon. Pretended to write a song.”

  “Pretended?”

  “Well, I showed up and put in the time, but my muse was MIA today.”

  “Sorry to hear that.”

  “It happens. He’s been kind of elusive lately.”

  “Your muse is a guy?”

  “I think he identifies as non-binary, but sometimes I like to say mean things about him, and talking smack about a woman feels uncomfortable.”

  She squinted at me.

  “Tell me about your job.”

  “I’m a senior consultant at JP Tippen.”

  “Interesting,” I said, angling towards her as the bartender set her drink—complete with a fancy lemon twist—down in front of her. “Does that mean you’re qualified to consult with my muse and see if he’s ready to establish some regular working hours? Because I’ve been questioning his commitment lately.”

  “I’m afraid not,” she said. “But if your muse was a company looking to improve their processes, I’d be able to help.”

  “Gotcha. How long have you been doing that?”

  “Ten years.”

  “Wow. So you like it?”

  She shrugged. “Can’t think of something I’d rather do. It’s stressful, but I’m fairly compensated, and I enjoy the challenge of working with different clients.”

  “Every child’s dream,” I said. “To grow up and be fairly compensated.”

  She laughed. “Actually, when I was little, I wanted to be a ballerina.”

  That explains it, I thought. Her posture. Her swan neck. The fact that she was the only person I’d ever met who looked graceful mounting a barstool.

  “What about you?”

  “Fireman,” I said. “But I think that’s only because it’s what my dad did, and it sounded cool and dangerous. Also, I hate being cold, and nothing’s cozier than Kevlar.”

  “Why the change of heart?”

  "The lack of fair compensation.”

  “Understandable,” she said. “I don’t know what firemen get paid, but—”

  “Not enough, I assure you.”

  “No doubt.”

  “So, are you from Chicago originally?” I asked.

  “Winnetka,” she said. “You?”

  “Oak Park.”

  “Interesting,” she said, fingering the edge of her coaster. “So what
’s your West Side story?”

  “My dad’s a retired fireman and my mom used to teach second grade.”

  “Siblings?”

  “One brother,” I said, failing to mention we were twins so I could skip the predictable follow-up questions about our mindreading capabilities, our adventures in mistaken identity, and which of us was the evil one.

  “And are they all here still?”

  “No. California. For about ten years now.”

  “That’s sad,” she said. “Having your family so far away.”

  “What’s sad is the fact that they’re paying California taxes.”

  “Illinois’s not much better,” she said. “And you know what I mean.”

  I hid my inner turmoil as best I could. “The important thing is that everyone’s happy where they are.”

  “I suppose that’s true.”

  “I take it your family’s still local?”

  She nodded. “Just had brunch with my sister today.”

  “I hope you let her get a word in edgewise and didn’t gush about me the whole time.”

  Her lips fought a smile. “It was tough, but I managed to let her speak once or twice.”

  The hostess appeared behind us with two menus clutched to her chest. “Your table is ready.”

  T W E N T Y O N E

  - Maeve -

  I don’t know what kind of place I expected Finn to take me to, but this wasn’t it. His bar was cozy and casual, the kind of place you could get comfortable and kick back. Not that I was the kicking back type, but I appreciated its relaxed atmosphere.

  This venue, on the other hand, was sleek and stylish. All the servers wore black from head to toe, and our table was set between a window overlooking Michigan Avenue and a jazz quartet whose smooth music was setting a very swanky tone. But the classy décor wasn’t the only pleasant surprise.

  Finn cleaned up nice. Really nice. He was in a chunky navy sweater that had me looking forward to the prospect of cozying up to him on the couch later, and his signature scruff and slightly disheveled brown hair made him look ruggedly handsome in a way my lower body definitely noticed. In fact, I was having trouble not squirming in my seat.

  “Is this okay for you?” he asked. “I asked for this table because I like being able to see the musicians.”

  “It’s perfect,” I said, glancing their way before looking back out the window at the lit trees lining the street outside. “And the view is lovely.”

  “I couldn’t agree more.”

  When I realized he was looking at me, my cheeks went hot.

  “I almost requested a booth, but I was worried you wouldn’t be able to keep your hands to yourself.”

  I bit the inside of my cheek, trying to figure out if it was his voice or his confidence that had my stomach doing backflips. “I assure you, I’m very restrained.”

  “Have you always been that way?”

  “Yes and no?”

  His brows piqued with curiosity.

  “I've always put a lot of pressure on myself,” I explained. “But I think that’s normal when you’re the oldest.” I could tell by his face that he was listening intently, but he seemed relaxed, too, which made me feel at ease. “Plus, after my parents got divorced, I had to grow up quicker than I would’ve if I hadn’t had to support my mom so much.”

  “Emotionally or financially?”

  “Both,” I said. “My dad had an affair and left her with a bunch of gambling debts, so it rocked the family pretty hard.”

  “I can imagine,” he said. “Where’s your dad now?”

  “On the corner of I don’t give a shit and don’t call me.”

  He grimaced. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. He doesn’t care about me either.”

  “I’m sure that’s not true.”

  “It is true,” I said, fixing my eyes on his. “He’s proven time and time again that he only cares about himself.”

  Finn’s lips formed a straight line. “That’s a shame.”

  “It could be worse,” I said, feeling slightly self-conscious for being so blunt. “My daddy issues are hardly worthy of a Lifetime movie.”

  He laughed. “Small mercies.”

  “Anyway, forgive me. It’s really not a sore subject, but I’m sure you didn’t invite me to dinner to hear me complain.”

  “Were you complaining?” he asked, furrowing his brow. “I thought you were just being your usual charming self.”

  “I appreciate that, though charming isn’t usually the first word people use to describe me.”

  “No?” He grabbed the carafe of water on the table and filled our glasses. “How do people usually describe you?”

  “As bossy,” I said. “Or type A. That kind of thing.”

  A slow smile crept across his face.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Nothing,” he said. “Just got a little excited about the prospect of seeing your bossy side.”

  I tried to scowl at him, but my lips wiggled towards a grin. How was he flirting with me when I’d done nothing but dump my baggage on him since the day we met? He held my gaze until a flush of heat fired up my neck, and I looked down at the menu, my eyes struggling to focus with his attention still on me. “So what do you usually get here?”

  “You really can’t go wrong,” he said. “Personally, I was leaning towards the fish until I saw you in that dress, but now I think I may need something more substantial to sink my teeth into.”

  Kurt never talked to me like that. No one ever talked to me like that.

  “I guess I should’ve asked if you were a vegetarian.”

  “Only at lunchtime.”

  “Pardon?”

  “I don’t eat meat at lunchtime.”

  “Ever?” he asked.

  “Ever,” I said, sensing further explanation was needed. “I used to be a vegetarian. When I was a teenager. For ethical reasons.”

  “And then you had a pulled pork sandwich?”

  I laughed. “Something like that. Anyway, it’s only a small thing, but it makes me feel like I’m doing something, you know. Since the earth is burning.”

  “You actually believe in that climate change stuff?”

  My stomach dropped with my expression. “What?”

  “That’s just a conspiracy theory,” he said. “Like the moon landings.”

  I blinked at him and searched his face for reason. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

  A subtle twitch of his lips gave the game away. “I’m joking.”

  I sighed and leaned back in my chair.

  “Would that be a dealbreaker for you?”

  My chin hinged forward. “If you didn’t believe in reality? Yes. That would be a dealbreaker. I’m not nearly whimsical enough to deal with someone who entertains such nonsense.”

  “Good,” he said. “Me neither.”

  My chest loosened with my relief.

  “So are you going to go for a big, juicy steak since you ate like a rabbit at lunch?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “The crab cakes sound delicious.”

  “They’re unreal,” he said. “Same goes for the shrimp and the ahi tuna.”

  “You didn’t really strike me as the fine dining type,” I admitted, cocking my head. “No offense.”

  “A guy can’t eat chili dogs all the time.”

  “No, I suppose not.” Was this a date? I suppose I could ask him, but that seemed so juvenile. Plus, there was a candle flickering on the table, and he’d obviously cleaned up, and…who was I kidding? I busted out my goddamn pushup bra. Lord knows why. This couldn’t go anywhere. I’d already confided in him that I was actively shopping for strange men’s sperm. “So how come you’re here with me?”

  “Who else would I be here with?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. Some other woman who hasn’t already admitted what a loon she is.”

  “To be honest, I find yo
ur lunacy refreshing.”

  “How could that be?”

  “Well, I don’t know how many women you’ve dated.”

  “Zero,” I said. “I’ve dated zero women…though I’ve had a few girl crushes in my day.”

  He turned an ear towards me. “Let’s talk more about that.”

  “Maybe later,” I said, waving the suggestion away. “Finish what you were saying about my refreshing lunacy.”

  “Right,” he continued. “It’s simple, really. Most women try to hide their crazy. They give Oscar-worthy performances designed to make you think they’re the chillest chick on the planet. Except unicorns aren’t real, so you’re left guessing what they’re hiding.”

  “Sounds exciting.”

  “It’s not,” he said. “It’s terrifying. Whereas you came right out with your crazy and haven’t pretended to be anything you’re not, as far as I can tell. Besides less into me than you are, but that’s only because you’re restrained.”

  I squinted at him. “Have you always been this confident?”

  “No,” he said. “It’s my new deodorant. Makes me smell great and sound cleverer than I am.”

  “Good to know they’re selling confidence at Walgreens now. We should alert the masses.”

  “Could do.”

  “Also,” I said, raising a finger. “Can we back up for a second?”

  “Sure.”

  “What’s my crazy?”

  “You’ve got mad baby fever, and you don’t let your hair down enough.”

  I opened my mouth to object but closed it again.

  “Fortunately,” he said, flashing a smile. “I know a guy who can help you with both those things.”

  T W E N T Y T W O

  - Finn -

  She offered me a skeptical side eye, her lips curling like a Cheshire Cat. “Let me guess. He smells good.”

  “Fantastic,” I said, matching her smile.

  “And his chest hair?”

  “Downy soft and evenly spread.”

  She burst out laughing and the sound squeezed my heart as the waitress appeared at our table. “Have you decided what you’d like to order?” she asked, her notepad and severely painted brows poised at the ready.