I offered up the goods, the tidbits I knew he’d be wondering about. “The mother and I are not together, but we’re friends. She’s forty, like me, a school principal.” I paused. “She’s great, actually. You’d love her.” It was the truth.
His grin faltered. “You’re not together.”
“No, which is good,” I added quickly. “We’re on the same page. She wants to stay single, and so do I. We don’t have to worry about our relationship going sour—”
“That’s what’s holding you back? The fact that you could possibly break up in the future?” My dad tightened the grip on his garden hose.
“It’s more than that,” I said. “My life isn’t suited for a real relationship. You know that. Work takes up so much of my time. I travel constantly—heck, I just got back from Tokyo an hour ago.” I checked my watch. I’d been to Japan twice in the last month, just to prove my dedication to Isamu.
My dad set down his hose. “But you’re going to make time for a baby?”
“Yes,” I said. “A baby I can make time for. I want to make time for him. Like I make time for my friends and you—”
My dad set down his hose and wiped his hands together. “This is the first time you’ve been up here since Christmas.”
Bam. I racked my brain. That couldn’t have been right. I drove up to the North Shore all the time…or so I thought. I’d last come up here in February for the Valentine’s Day thing for the Academy, and, nope, I hadn’t stopped in to see my dad. But life for the past several months had been crazy. Like I said, I’d just gotten back from Japan. I’d been traveling every week and picking up whatever other slack Tommy and Scott left me. Other than exchanging the occasional texts with Erin, work had taken over my entire life.
But that was temporary. Soon we’d seal the Fumetsu deal, then Scott’s mom would get better, and Susie’d loosen the reins on Tommy. When James came, I’d make room for him. At that point, it’d be my turn to take a little break. My partners would start picking up my slack. We were a team, after all. “I’ve changed,” I said, straightening my shoulders.
“You’ve changed.” My dad leaned an elbow on one of his many ladders and folded his arms. “How?”
“I—” How had I changed? I’d let Erin into my life. Kind of. I guess. We were getting food together now. Or, well, we had that the one time after the ultrasound. We were texting and stuff, really regularly…
“Are you traveling less?” Dad asked.
Nope. All told, I’d been traveling a bit more. But that was only because I was in the middle of a huge deal and Scott’s mom was going through treatment. Once I closed that deal, though, I’d be home more. Definitely.
“Have you made room in that condo of yours for a child?”
I pictured my living room, full of geometric art pieces and an open-flame fireplace. None of that was baby proof. I hadn’t set up a room for the kid yet, but I would. I’d been busy. I’d been in Tokyo. And the baby wouldn’t be here for another three months. “Things are being decided,” I said. “I’m turning the weight room into a nursery.” There. That was a proactive step.
“You have a crib?”
“I have one on order.” No, I did not. But I would. By end of day today.
“You’ve taken down the mirrors and gotten rid of that expensive padded floor you had installed and couldn’t stop raving about?”
Shit. I’d forgotten about that. The gym was one of my favorite rooms in the condo. Why hadn’t I said the den instead? But whatever. I was making room for this child, and it was going to take some sacrifice. “I’m working on it.”
My dad nodded, patronizing me. He didn’t buy any of it. This was the man who raised my ass. He saw through all my bullshit. “Have you really, really thought this through?”
I nodded.
“Really?”
“Yes,” I said. “Is it what I planned? No. I always thought I’d stay single and unattached for life. But this just happened, accidentally. And I’m embracing it.”
“Your mom never wanted kids,” he said.
“I know.” That wasn’t true. I’d never actually had that information, but I figured it was probably the case.
“We got pregnant with you, and she ‘embraced’ it.” The air quotes were his. My dad stepped over to me and placed a heavy hand on my shoulder. “I know you’re not her, and I realize you’re a grown-up who can make his own decisions, but really think this through. Your mother, who had never been prepared to have a kid, walked out on you at age eleven. Can you see yourself doing the same thing to your son?”
My throat closed up as I shook my head. “I would never.” I had lived my entire adult life promising myself I’d never be my mother. Up until now it hadn’t been too hard. This kid was the test. And I would pass. “I’m ready for this responsibility,” I said. “I’m ready to make room in my life for this person.” For my son.
He squeezed my shoulder. “Then, good.” He smiled. “I’m happy for you.”
…
Erin
“It’s so silly,” Chris said, “but we truly bonded over our embarrassing love of Taylor Swift.”
“That is embarrassing.” I raised my eyebrows at Natalie over the top of my Sprite. She sat across the table from me and next to Chris. The three of us had gone out to dinner at Uncle Julio’s in Old Orchard after work. The two of them couldn’t keep their eyes or their hands off each other. I couldn’t tell if this was love or lust or desperation, but, whatever it was, they were both fully invested.
I focused on the chips and guacamole in front of me. I’d honestly never seen Nat like this before. Her previous boyfriend had not been this into her, and it had been like that from the beginning. She and Chris appeared to be on the same page. About everything.
“I put some music on in the car during our first date, and Chris started singing along to ‘I Almost Do.’ He had memorized every single lyric. I was like, ‘Busted!’” Natalie patted his wrist, and he squeezed her hand. “After that, we started texting each other silly Taylor memes and lyrics.”
“We crossed over from irony into sincerity pretty quick,” Chris said.
“We’re dancing to ‘Starlight’ at our wedding.”
My mind drifted infuriatingly to my own wedding—my own nonexistent, never-gonna-happen wedding. Because he was the only single guy I had any contact with, the groom on my dance floor assumed the shape of Ian. Our first dance song was “YMCA,” which we boogied to like goofballs, as we had the night we first met. I stifled a grin.
And then I flicked a tear off my cheek.
God. Damn. Hormones.
I, Dr. Erin Sharpe, did not care about weddings or marriage or patriarchal constructs. During my relationship with Dirk, I never went gaga over wedding dresses and veils. I had never once pictured anything at all having to do with my own wedding.
This pregnancy had made me soft.
I wiped my eyes with my napkin, under the guise of having to sneeze. Then I raised my index finger. “Be right back.” Before Nat or Chris could say anything, I ducked my head and pushed my way to the bathroom.
Resting my hands on the sink, I checked myself out in the mirror. I was in a fairly cute pregnancy stage right now—all belly and boobs. My legs hadn’t started to swell yet. I was a strong, beautiful, intelligent woman, who was fine being single. I did not need a fucking wedding—or a man—to validate my existence.
The bathroom door opened behind me, and Nat came in.
She leaned against the wall next to the sink. “Okay, so this is the second time you’ve cried in my presence in under a week.”
“I’m a ball of hormones,” I said. “That’s all this is.”
“I’m starting to take it personally.”
I sighed, pulling the hem of my dress down to straighten it. “I’m serious. I don’t know where those tears came from. I’m a stereotypical girl all of a sudden, crying over weddings.”
“You were crying because I’m getting married?” She frowned.
> “No!” I rolled my eyes. “I was crying because… I don’t know why I was crying.” The image of Ian and me dancing like fools to “YMCA” would die with my brain. I pointed to my gut. “Baby. He’s the one making me cry.”
Nat reached over and patted my belly. If anyone else had done that, I would’ve bitten their head off, but I’d given Nat and Katie full belly touching privileges. “Have I told you how proud I am of you?” she said.
I shook my head, blinking back more tears.
“You’re the toughest woman I know. You are in charge of an entire school full of children and teachers. You have to deal, on a daily basis, with asshole parents who think they hung the moon. And you do it all with reason and humor.” She held me at arm’s length. “I only have to deal with one classroom of asshole parents, and it takes all my strength not to murder them.”
I giggled.
“And now you’re taking on motherhood all by yourself. I couldn’t do that.”
“Sure you could.” Nat made things happen. She kept her classroom shipshape every single day. While my inbox only seemed to grow, not shrink, Nat kept up with her emails daily. She could do anything she put her mind to.
“I need Chris,” she said. “I hate admitting that, but I’m someone who needs to be around people, and I found someone who wants to be with me all the time. Maybe I’m weak like that.”
“You’re not weak; you’re an extrovert,” I said.
“True.” She laughed. “Imagine you dating someone who needed to be in constant contact with you all the time.”
I touched my neck. Would that be so bad?
“You’re pulling at your collar,” Nat said. “And your face just morphed into this grimace that looked anything but content. Just thinking about being in that kind of relationship is making you claustrophobic. You’re right to be focusing on your single life.” Nat checked herself in the mirror. “You’ve never needed anyone, and you still don’t. You’re going to be fine on your own.”
“I hope so.” I pictured myself dancing alone in my living room to “YMCA.” It bummed me out.
“No hope about it.” Nat kneaded my shoulders. “Now I have to get back out there, because I’ve kept Chris waiting for too long, the poor baby.” She held open the door for me.
“I’ll be right there.”
After Nat left, I flicked a bit of cold water on my face and fixed my hair. When Dirk and I were together, we hardly saw each other. He only moved in with me during the final two years of our relationship. Before that, I was on my own almost every night. And I liked it. I accomplished so much during that time. I got my PhD back then. I hadn’t spent every waking moment worrying about when I might get a text or what the other person happened to be up to. It wasn’t a bad life. It was a life I was good at, and would keep being good at.
But “YMCA.”
I patted my belly. Maybe James would dance with me.
When I’d composed myself enough to return to the table, a text came in from Ian. “Hey! Want to come over tonight? I have something to show you.”
My heart sped up, and my first instinct was to text him back automatically, because, yeah, I wanted to go to his condo. Too much. The truth was, I had started to look forward to these texts more than I should. I was starting to need Ian, and I didn’t believe I could count on him.
It was time to pull back. I’d promised myself I was going to do this alone, and I had to stick to the plan. Occasional texts were fine, expectations and desires were not.
“Sorry!” I told him. “I have plans. Maybe another time!”
…
Ian
When my plane landed after another long week in Tokyo, I checked my messages, silently hoping for one from Erin. She’d had a doctor’s appointment the day before—or this morning; it was hard to keep track with the time change—and she’d promised to let me know how it had gone.
But instead of a message from Erin, I had one from my mom and one from that Liz Bolton woman I still hadn’t spoken to. She wanted me to call her when I got back from Tokyo. And I had three texts from Maria Minnesota:
“Hi, Ian. We need to talk about the finance committee.”
“Hi, Ian. I have some numbers I want to go over with you.”
“Are you around? I’d like to drop off some materials.”
I groaned, audibly, while waiting for a car outside the airport. A constant weight sat on my shoulders, and I couldn’t shake it, unable to fathom a time when I wouldn’t feel overwhelmed. Over the past I-don’t-know-how-many months, I’d gone from work to the airport to more work to sleep and back to work. I barely had time to exercise or feed myself. I’d been eating takeout for weeks—three meals a day.
And now the fucking Glenfield Gala, which had always been my favorite fund-raiser of the year—big auction, big ballroom, big money being thrown around. But now I hated it. I’d burn it to the ground, if I could.
Except I’d promised Scott I would help out. And the Gala was in support of my alma mater—Erin’s current workplace. My helping with the Gala would improve my child’s future. He would benefit from this fine arts center, or whatever they were raising money for, someday.
The words “the greater good” kept spinning through my mind.
“I’m on my way home from the airport,” I texted Maria. “You can leave the stuff with my doorman.”
But when I stepped into the lobby of my building, Maria was there, holding a massive accordion folder full of God-knew-what.
She held up the papers. “I should probably explain some of this. I don’t know how much Scott’s told you, but we’re doing things a bit differently this year.”
“Fine. Sure.” We’d get the conversation and explanations out of the way, so I could curl up in my own bed and sleep.
“I’m really glad you agreed to help with this, Ian,” Maria said.
I narrowed my eyes. What did she mean by that? Did she think something was going to happen here? Probably not. It was the sleep depravation making snap judgments. “I’m a little jet-lagged,” I said. “So if we can make this quick.”
She cocked her jaw to the side. “It’ll be quick.”
Okay. Not a seduction. The look on her face could’ve frightened a shark.
“How have you been?” I tried a friendlier tack as Maria and I sat down in my living room—her on the leather couch, me on the armchair. Maria’s eyes bounced around the room like this was her first time seeing the place, which it pretty much was. She’d been here once before, late at night. We had sex, and I told her I had to get up early. I shuddered at my callousness. She was right to hate my guts.
“Good,” she said. “Working hard, you know.”
“Same.” I shrugged. “So…?” No need to drag out these pleasantries.
“Right.” Maria, all business, passed a folder of papers across the coffee table to me. “Erin had a brilliant idea to use half the money we raise at the Gala to start a fine arts endowment at an inner city school—her old school.”
I nodded, grinning despite myself. Dr. Sharpe using her position at a wealthy school to help the kids in need—something that had never once been suggested at Glenfield Academy before. It was utterly brilliant. Anyone who objected would look like a total asshat. She had them by the balls.
My Erin.
Whoa. Where did that come from?
I coughed and handed the folder back to Maria. “Cool,” I said. “The new principal, she’s, um—” My face flushed.
Maria’s eyes widened. “She’s great. She even wants to get the kids in on the act, so it really means something to them that they’re raising this money—for both themselves and the other school.”
“It’s a pretty great idea, and I know I can find some donors who’d be willing to get in on this. Some businesses are leery of giving to private schools, but with the public school angle, I think we can get them.” I rubbed my eyes. I needed a shower and a nap, not necessarily in that order.
“You okay?” she asked.
&
nbsp; I exhaled. “Just tired. And busy.”
Maria stood and held out a hand. I rose and shook it. “Thank you for taking the time to work on this…for the kids.”
I nodded. “My pleasure.” My eyes traveled to the front door, hopefully giving her a sign.
“Do you mind if I use your restroom before…?”
“No,” I said. “Go ahead.”
She hesitated, and then it hit me. She had no idea where the bathroom was. I pointed toward the back of the condo. “Down the hall, to your right.”
After she left, I picked up the folder again. There was Erin’s name—and her phone number—right on the top page. In a kneejerk response, I pulled out my phone and texted her. “I’m back. You want to come over? Watch a movie?” Yes, I was beat. But I wasn’t too beat to see Erin. If this happened to be the moment when she wanted to come over, she could come over. I’d always welcome her here. With open arms.
Or not open arms—not like that. I’d welcome her with a friendly hug and maybe a small kiss on the cheek. Nothing more.
She texted back. “Sorry! Can’t. Plans with girls.”
Damn it. She had so little time for me she couldn’t even text in complete sentences. I sent her back a thumbs-up.
“Um…Ian?”
I spun around. Maria stood in the hallway holding a teddy bear. “What’s going on? You’re building a crib?”
I started to say something, some excuse, but stifled it. No more hiding this. “I’m going to be a dad.” This was my new reality.
She cocked her head, like she was trying to hear me better. “You’re…what?”
“I’m gonna be a dad,” I repeated. The more I said it, the easier it got, honestly. I could probably tell Tommy and Scott about this without curling into a ball on my office floor.
“Congratulations?” The smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Wow. Ian Donovan a dad. Who’s the mother?” She shook her head. “Never mind. Not my business.”
“It’s Erin,” I said. “Sharpe.”
“Erin Sharpe?” She narrowed her gaze. “Are you two…?”
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