Chapter Ten

Erin

Natalie and I faced off with loaded guns clutched in our hands. “On three,” she said. “One…”

I grinned. “Two…”

Katie, tapping away on her phone next to me, rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Three.”

Nat and I spun around and started scanning everything in sight with our pricing guns, registering at Target for our wedding and baby, respectively. Since she was getting married only a few weeks after my due date, and we were near the end of the school year, our faculty had decided to throw a joint shower for all the teachers and administrators who were celebrating weddings, babies, or big-deal birthdays over the summer.

“Diaper Genie,” I said. “Bam!”

“Faux-artsy framed print of the Chicago skyline,” Nat said. “Bam!”

“Bored millennial being dragged into some bullshit by her older sister and her friend.” Katie’s eyes were still down on her phone. “Bam.”

I scanned a cute pair of sandals in Katie’s size. “There,” I said. “For you. Thanks for coming with us.”

“What are your coworkers at the Academy going to say when they see a pair of size eight bejeweled espadrilles on your registry?” Katie asked.

“My needs are as important as his.” I patted my ballooning gut as the kid kicked me, probably to remind me that, nope, for the next eighteen or so years, his needs would trump mine, full stop, and I should probably get used to it.

My watch buzzed, and I peeked at it. There was a message from Ian, reminding me to scan the Beaba food steamer. I shot him a thumbs-up.

“Is that Ian?” Katie’s eyes were still on her phone.

“No,” I lied.

“Yes, it was. I can tell because you’re grinning like a dork.”

I leaned over and pushed her phone down. “You haven’t looked up from that thing once. How could you possibly know I was smiling?”

“I see all.” And she was right back to texting.

“Was it Ian?” Nat asked as she scanned a stainless-steel wastebasket.

“Yeah.” I shrugged. “He was just making his opinion known on some of the registry stuff.” He’d done all kinds of research on everything from co-sleepers to diaper bags to swaddling apparatuses. He’d apparently also—all on his own—dismantled his home gym and decorated it as a nursery. And he’d even built a crib, and he’d sent me several videos showing him throwing heavy things into it—a weighted vest, a medicine ball, a sack of potatoes—to prove that it was structurally sound. He kept asking me to come see it, and I kept balking.

“They text all the time.” Katie shoved her phone into her purse, gleefully outing me to Nat. “Every single night.”

Natalie gazed into the middle distance.

“What?” I said.

“Nothing.” She grinned at me. “Just imagining everything I’ll be able to do in my classroom with that brand new SMARTboard.”

I pretended to shoot her with my scanning gun. “I have a friendly relationship with the father of my son. Big whoop.”

“Yeah, you might, but he totally wants to be more than friends.” When she noticed my death stare, Katie added, “I may have peeked over your shoulder—don’t judge me; I haven’t been out with a guy in months; and, aside from weight training and protein shakes, this soap opera drama between you and Ian is all I have. He’s asked you to hang out a bunch of times, and you always say no.”

“Uh, yeah.” I scanned a box of glass bottles. “Because we agreed to live separate lives, and I’m keeping up my end of the bargain. We’re friends. That’s it. Not even friends. Friendly.” Just because two people, who happened to be attracted to each other, talked on the phone all the time, it didn’t have to mean anything. We were two adult humans who could definitely keep things platonic.

“That’s good,” Nat said. “You have the right idea. Keep Ian at arm’s length. You’re strong enough to do this on your own, and tigers don’t change their stripes.”

“Ian and I have been honest with each other from the start. He’s married to his job. He’s not looking for a relationship. And I’ve been burned so many times, I’m better off sticking with the one person who won’t let me down—myself.”

If Ian really did want to be more than friends, it was only because I’d been playing hard to get. I’d become a challenge for him, a challenge that would end the moment we got together. “I have a history of picking the wrong guy.” I scanned a package of cloth diapers. Bam! “Ian is the very embodiment of ‘the wrong guy.’”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Katie said. “He seems to really like you.”

“Now,” I said. “He likes me now. He’ll bolt as soon as I give in to him. There’s no way this doesn’t end badly.”

Katie raised her index finger. “Or, what if it ends with you two desperately in love and staying together forever?”

“You’re just hard up for some romance,” I told her. “Go watch a rom-com on Netflix or something.”

“It’s what happened to Nat and Chris,” she said.

“But Chris is not Ian Donovan.” Natalie scanned a set of bed sheets.

“Bingo.” Ian was who he’d always said he was—a workaholic who needed his freedom. I, as I had been since the day we met, was playing the role of “girl who took him at his word.”

…

Ian

On a Friday night in mid-May, a sulky Tommy walked into my office and flopped down in one of my guest chairs. “Let’s go out.”

“Really?” I’d just gotten back from another trip to Tokyo. I’d planned on texting Erin tonight to see if she wanted to come over, even though I knew she’d say no. She always said no.

I saw right through her game. She was avoiding me—and doing a good job of it. I hadn’t seen her in person since March, since the day of the ultrasound. Yeah, I’d been out of town for a lot of that time, but when I was in town, Erin had made herself utterly unavailable.

If her goal was to drive me mad, it was working.

Maybe I should give her a taste of her own medicine.

I texted Erin in advance of our Friday night non-date. “I won’t be able to chat tonight. Going out with Tommy.”

She sent me a thumbs-up.

I hesitated, finger over the phone. My mind said, “Back away from the cell,” but my heart said, “Just send her one more teensy message.” My heart won out. “Call you tomorrow probably?”

With baited breath I watched the screen, but no little dots appeared. Erin had won yet another round in the battle for the upper hand that existed inside my head.

I had to start taking the hint. Every sign glowed neon bright. Erin wanted nothing to do with me outside of parenting our child. And I’d been using her as an excuse to avoid going out, living my old life. I had to start being old Ian again.

I told Tommy I’d meet him at the bar after I finished up at work. On my way out, I asked Scott to join us, but he had a date—a real date, like with dinner and everything. I begged him for details, but he only blushed and said, “It’s new.”

In a trance, I wandered over to the bar atop the Chicago Athletic Club. The Ian of a year ago never would’ve predicted any of this—that Scott would be going on a real date or that I’d be weeks away from meeting my own son. The only constant was Tommy, who’d always longed for a family life.

I found him at the bar, drinking scotch and talking to a woman with blond hair. I groaned inwardly. He was wingmanning for me, finding someone for me to hook up with. The Ian of one year ago would’ve been grateful. Tonight I wanted two drinks and my own bed.

“Hey, Tom—”

He cut me off. “Shelly, this is my friend Tommy.”

My shoulders slumped. What. The. Fuck. “Hey,” I deadpanned.

Shelly batted her eyes at Tommy. “Ian’s told me so much about you.”

He wasn’t playing the part of my wingman tonight. I was his. And, what? He just expected me to go along with it, to look the other way while he chatted up other women—using my name—while his wife and daughter sat at home? “Hey, Shelly,” I said. “Can you give us a minute? Ian and I have some things to discuss.”

We watched as Shelly headed over to her friends, a group of women all wearing skinny jeans and Uggs. Ugh. The whole thing was ugh. “Tommy, what the fuck?”

He shrugged, eyes still on Shelly. “I’m just having fun.”

“You’re using my name. I know what that means. That means you’re hoping to hook up tonight.” My blood boiled. How dare he put me in this position and expect me to go along with it, no questions asked.

“No, it doesn’t.” He turned to me, eyes glazed over. Tommy had left work early today, and I guessed he was about four drinks in. “Flirting isn’t cheating.”

“Sure.” I picked up his empty tumbler and shook it, rattling the ice. “But how many of these have you had? How long before you’re so fucked up the flirting morphs into cheating?”

“You’re not my dad.”

“I’m not.” I ordered two waters from the bartender. “But I am Maeve’s godfather and Susie’s friend, and damn it if I’m going to sit here and watch you betray them.”

“You don’t know what it’s like,” he said. “You think everything is one way, but then on a dime”—he snapped his fingers—“you don’t even recognize your life anymore.” He widened his bloodshot eyes and stared at me. “I haven’t slept in months. I haven’t touched my wife in longer than that. Her mother is living with us now, and I’m not even allowed to hold the baby, except under very specific circumstances. I come home from work, and they just start yelling, telling me everything I’m doing wrong, berating me for doing my job.” He ordered yet another drink from the bartender. “All I’m asking for is one night of talking to women who don’t look at me like they hate my guts.”

“But you and Susie—” They were the perfect couple. They wore matching ugly sweaters to every Christmas party. They had both separately picked out the same china pattern years before they got engaged. There was never any doubt that the two of them would make it to ever after.

“She hates me. She’s done a complete one-eighty on me.” He downed his second drink. “She used to understand what I was all about. She loved that I worked so hard and fell in love with me because I was successful. I’m still doing the same work—trying to stay successful—and she throws it back in my face. She thinks I’m avoiding responsibilities at home.”

“Well, tonight you kind of are,” I reminded him.

“If I’m going to be blamed for something either way, I might as well have the fun.” Tommy ordered yet another drink, and I motioned to the bartender that we’d like some appetizers. I had to get food in Tommy, STAT.

“Dude,” I said, “you don’t want to fuck this up. Things are hard right now, but you owe it to yourself and Susie to deal with this together—see a counselor, take a vacation.” My parents never talked about shit when they were together, and then one day my mom showed up—packed and ready to move to Hawaii with Blake in his Mazda Miata.

“I’m only blowing off steam,” he said. “I’m not going to do anything.” Ah, but then he started to pull off his wedding ring.

I shoved it back on his finger. “Fine, Tommy. Do your flirting bullshit, but keep your ring on. I’ll keep an eye on you.” Lucky me. If anything, this was good practice for after James was born, and I’d have to watch to make sure he kept his fingers out of the electric sockets. Tonight was all about keeping Tommy from putting any of his appendages in dangerous holes.

Tommy bought Shelly and her friends in the corner a round of drinks. The women weren’t from around here—the big hair and cheap purses gave them away. I knew their kind well. They’d bus into to the city for a ladies’ night out, leaving their boyfriends, husbands, and responsibilities at home.

“Girls.” Shelly wrapped an arm around Tommy’s shoulders. “This is Ian.”

“Hi, Ian!” her friends sang.

“And you are?” The redhead next to me in a sleeveless midriff-baring top nudged me in the side.

“Tommy,” I said.

Tommy winked at me over the Irish Car Bomb he held to his lips.

“What’s your story, Tommy?” the redhead purred.

“I have a wife and child and I’m very happy in my life thank you.”

She backed away.

I sipped my scotch, ignoring the women, keeping one eye on Tommy and one eye on the TV broadcasting the Bulls game. My phone weighed heavy in my pocket. I had to physically keep both hands on my drink to avoid texting Erin. None of these women held a candle to her. They seemed nice enough, but they weren’t PhDs, they weren’t bleeding hearts for all children, they weren’t funny and tough and bold, they weren’t the mother of my own kid.

Hand shaking, I lifted the tumbler to my lips and drank. My throat had constricted, as a wave of sadness hit me. This life wasn’t enough for me anymore. It might never be enough again.

Tommy rose from his seat, downed another scotch, and turned toward the bathroom. Shelly followed him. Fuck. Shit. Time for Babysitter Ian to step up. This drunk dillweed was harder to deal with than Maeve with a loaded diaper. “Where are you going, Ian?”

He made a point of not looking me in the eye, like a child. Like a lying-ass child. “Bathroom.”

I stood. “I’ll go with.”

Tommy shook his head. “No, no. I’m fine. I’ll be right back.”

Shelly ran her goddamn fucking talons down his arm. Did she not see the wedding ring on his finger? The two of them took a step together toward the bathrooms. We didn’t cheat. Yeah, Tommy, Scott, and I had done our fair share of hooking up, but we drew the line at contributing to the delinquency of anyone in a relationship. Tommy had once faked breaking his arm to keep my drunk ass from leaving with a married woman. It was on me to return the favor tonight.

“I’m gonna be a dad,” I shouted.

Tommy spun around. “What?”

Shelly gave one more desperate tug on Tommy’s arm.

He brushed her off and stepped toward me. “What did you say?”

“I’m gonna be a dad,” I repeated. “In, like”—I checked my watch—“two months.”

Tommy stared at me as the news sank in. Then a huge grin took over his face and he lunged for me, wrapping me in a huge hug. “Congratulations,” he yelled right at my eardrum.

I pushed him away, rubbing my ear, which was now ringing. “Thank you.”

Tommy threw a few bills on the bar. “Let’s go get some food.”

And that was that. Tommy had transformed back into a family man.

We took a car to Au Cheval, where, miracle of miracles, we got two seats at the bar right away. Okay, maybe no miracles were involved. Tommy knew a guy, who knew a guy. We ordered burgers, beers, and chicken wings. I relaxed immediately. This night had suddenly slowed to more my speed.

“I want to know everything.” Tommy tossed a chicken bone to the plate. “What happened? Who is she? All of it.”

I grinned. Somehow Tommy, the guy who, a few hours ago, had been ready to throw in the towel on his marriage, was the first person to really show enthusiasm for my impending fatherhood.

“Well, it was an accident, obviously. But we’re both really excited.” I sipped my beer.

“Who’s the ‘we’?”

“Erin,” I said. “Sharpe?” I wrinkled my nose, waiting for his reaction.

“The principal of Glenfield Academy!” Tommy was having trouble controlling the volume of his voice. “You knocked up the principal?!” The grin on his face reached his ears.

I shushed him. “Yes. I knocked up the principal.”

“That is so… Oh my God!” His voice finally lowered. “Honestly, she seems really cool.”

I grinned. “She is really cool.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Are you two…?”

I shook my head as my eyes stung. “We’re just friends.”

Tommy nodded as he bit into his cheeseburger. Egg, cheese, and grease dripped onto his plate. “And she’s okay with that?”

I laughed. “She’s fine with it. She’s been super firm on the whole keeping-our-distance thing. I invite her over all the time to hang out, but she says no.”

Tommy placed his hand on mine. “Dude, are you okay with being just friends?”

My throat had constricted again. “Yes” was the correct answer. “Yes” was what Erin and I had agreed upon. But I couldn’t lie to my best friend. “No.” I shook my head. “I’m not okay with it.”

“Dude!” Tommy clutched my shoulder and shook it. “You’re in love!”

I held up a hand. “I’m not in love. I am…in like and respect with the woman who is carrying my child. I want to be around for him.”

“And her. You love her.”

My eyes swept the room. “Shut up with the love stuff,” I whispered.

“Ian, being in love is great.”

“Says the guy who almost cheated on his wife with a woman wearing Uggs less than an hour ago.”

He waved me off. “‘Almost’ is the operative word. I wasn’t going to go through with it.”

Sure he wasn’t.

“The stuff I said before, that was just me venting.” Tommy munched on his pickle. “I love Susie, I do. But it’s not easy being in a relationship and having a kid. That’s simply the truth. There are good days and bad. You only have to worry when the bad start outpacing the good.”

“And you still have more good days than bad?”

He nodded, mouth crammed with cheeseburger. “Susie and I are both so sleep-deprived that we’re constantly doing stupid shit. She got a tattoo. Did I tell you that?”

Wide-eyed, I shook my head. Susie had once gone on a tirade about a small shamrock tattoo her little sister had gotten on her ankle.

“Of Frasier.” He pointed to the inside of his upper arm. “Because that’s what she watches in the middle of the night while nursing Maeve. Now she has Kelsey Grammer’s face near her armpit to remind her…forever.”

I dragged a fry through my ketchup puddle. “So…are you going to tell her about tonight?”

“I don’t want to.”

I slapped him on the arm. “Of course you don’t want to, you jackass. But don’t you think you should?”

“Don’t you think you should tell Erin how you feel?”

“You nearly cheated on your wife tonight. You and Susie need to talk about that—whether on your own or with a counselor.”

“And you have feelings for your baby mama. Shouldn’t you two discuss that?”

I stared at myself in the mirror behind the bar. Erin and I had promised each other brutal honesty, no matter what. And here I was hiding a gigantic secret from her—that it killed me every time she shot me down, that I missed seeing her, that she had ruined me for all other women. If I told her these things, she’d laugh and tell me I was being foolish. She’d claim I only had these feelings because she was playing hard to get and that they’d disappear once I had her.

And maybe she’d be right.

That was the risk, wasn’t it?

Tommy, who was still pretty drunk at this point, pulled out his phone and dialed his wife’s number. “Hi, honey. I almost cheated on you tonight but didn’t… Mmm-hmm… Mmm-hmm. Okay.” He hung up. “She says I have to come home immediately.”

“That sounds about right.”

He raised his eyebrows at me. “And now you’re going to call Erin…”

“I’m not going to call a pregnant lady in the middle of the night.”

“Fair enough.” Tommy hugged me, grabbed his stuff, and beelined it for the door. I paid the tab and called a car.

On the drive home, I stared at my text conversation with Erin. “Are you up?” I typed and deleted that immediately. Of course she wasn’t up. “Can we talk sometime?” I erased that, too. Her answer would be no. It was always no.

I couldn’t handle another rejection. The only course of action was to keep my feelings to myself, until my desire for her finally ran its course, like she knew it would.

…

Erin

“Congratulations, Meg!”

I handed an envelope containing a substantial Amazon gift card to our sixth grade teacher, who’d just gotten her master’s degree. She took it from my hand and bowed slightly to the rest of the faculty and staff, who’d gathered in the school library for our end-of-year milestone party. Today we were celebrating weddings, anniversaries, babies, and graduations. Significant others had been invited—Nat and Chris had huddled together at one of the back tables. I focused on the task at hand, passing out gifts to my employees. I was Santa Claus without the beard. Though I did have the round belly.

“Tim Courtland, our seventh grade English teacher, and his wife, Gemma, are expecting their first child this summer. We have a lovely gift for you—a pack-and-play!”

Tim took his wife’s elbow and helped her up to where I stood at the front of the room. Gemma and I were due on the same day—July 16th. But she had a partner to hold her hand. I had no one. Not that I needed anyone, but I’d never even had the option of anyone holding my elbow while I walked anywhere.

I blinked back tears.

“Congratulations, Tim and Gemma!”

I gazed out at the crowd, ready to announce the next gift, but a silhouette in the doorway caught my eye. It had to be a mirage. I turned my head and then turned back. He was still there. Ian.

I touched my chest where my heart now pumped double time. I hadn’t invited him. How was he here? I tried to send an SOS to Natalie, but she was too busy licking frosting off Chris’s fingers.

Katie pulled a chair behind me and gently pushed me into it. “My turn,” she said into the microphone. “Our fearless leader, Erin, is pregnant with her first baby, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

The entire staff chuckled. Of course they’d noticed. I was a house.

I rolled my eyes, wrapping my arms around my stomach.

“We hemmed and hawed about what to get her, because she’s not a woman who needs much. So.” Katie handed me an envelope.

Staring at her, I ripped it open. They’d pitched in and made a donation in my name to the Glenfield Gala to support the fine arts programs at both Glenfield Academy and my old school. I touched my heart again. “This is so sweet,” I said.

“And I bought the cute espadrilles on your registry for myself…in your name.” Katie leaned down and hugged me.

“Did you invite Ian?” I whispered in her ear.

“Oh, that was the other part of your present,” she whispered. “Guess I forgot to mention it.”

She handed the microphone back to me. Ian still lurked in the doorway, probably wondering what the hell he was doing here. Katie, who had been helping Maria Minnesota with Gala stuff, had run into Ian at a meeting. He’d asked about me, because, duh, of course he had. I was carrying his child, and she was my roommate/sister. It would’ve been weird if he hadn’t asked about me. But she insisted there’d been more behind the inquiry, that he’d been—her words—pining for me.

I’d laughed and laughed and laughed.

But Katie’d won the match. She’d managed to get Ian and me in the same room.

I reached for the nearest box. “Our next gift goes to someone who needs no introduction—Glenfield Academy’s own Natalie Carter.” I winked. “Oh, and her fiancé, Chris.”

Nat and Chris, hand-in-hand, danced through the crowd up to me, and I handed them a crystal vase they had wanted from Tiffany’s.

Nat hugged me. “Did you see Ian’s here?”

“Yes,” I whispered.

“What’s he doing?”

“Katie invited him.”

Nat pulled away and looked me in the eye. “Maybe he’s here to make some big, sweeping love proclamation.”

I whispered in her ear, “You’re not getting that SMARTboard. Not on my watch.”

Besides, Ian Donovan did not have feelings for me beyond a general sense of curiosity.

Which was exactly how I felt about him.

He was hot and smart and funny, but he’d break my heart if I let him, and I’d gotten out of that business.

Ian grabbed a plate of food and sat with Nat and Chris while I finished handing out presents. After I’d dispensed the last gift, he lurked near the back, waiting for me, but I’d been bombarded by several staff members who wanted to chat. This was my life, Ian. I couldn’t just drop everything when you decided to show up.

But damn it, I wanted to.

Though, at the same time, his presence scared me shitless. What had he come here to say? We hadn’t spoken face-to-face in months. Tonight he’d come to…what? Tell me he’d met someone? That he’d changed his mind and decided he wanted nothing to do with me or our son?

After most of the crowd had cleared out, I started cleaning up my own mess—my plate and napkin and cup of half-drunk decaf. Ian snatched the plate from my hands.

“I’ve got it,” he said. “You should sit. Aren’t your legs killing you?”

My face flushed. He remembered that my varicose veins hurt like hell. I sat in the armchair Katie’d procured for me earlier.

Ian scurried around, picking up the mic and a few other rogue Dixie cups. He’d come from work wearing a pair of khaki pants and a multicolored button-down. He looked great, honestly. The guy was in perfect shape. And I was sitting over here with a basketball under my dress and legs the size of an elephant’s.

He wiped his hands together. “Anything else? You need me to move some tables?”

The place had cleared out, leaving the mess for me and the cleaning crew. Thanks, guys. Way to be cool. “Do you mind?” I said. “I’d do it myself…”

Ian waved me off. “You sit there and tell me where to put stuff. I’ve got this.”

I had the best seat in the house, watching Ian in his perfectly fitted pants bend over and push library tables around. He’d even rolled up his sleeves, revealing muscular forearms. After he’d moved the last table, he ran a hand through his dark hair. “Anything else?”

Rising from my seat, I pointed to the food table. “We should take that to the kitchen, leave it for the cleaning crew.”

“I can do it,” he said.

“I’ll help.” I consolidated the veggie trays. “Walking is good for me.”

He put the cake remnants back in the bakery box.

“It’s good to see you.” I stared hard at the broccoli in front of me.

“I’ve missed you,” he said.

Our forearms brushed against each other, and he jumped away as if startled. “How have you been feeling?”

“Okay.” I shrugged. “Fat, disgusting.”

He turned to me. “You look beautiful.”

I giggled. “You’re full of shit.”

Ian’s eyes were dead serious. “I mean it.”

He knocked the wind out of me.

Ian reached for a bag he’d apparently left behind the table and pulled out a long, thin box wrapped in silver and tied with a blue bow. “The wrapping reminds me of your Cinderella outfit the night we first met.”

He placed the box in my hands and I stared at it. “What is this?”

“A little something,” he said. “A push present. Isn’t that what they’re called?”

Staring warily at him, I opened the box. “Holy shit.” My hand jumped to my mouth. This was not a little something. This was a massive topaz surrounded by diamonds.

Ian reached for the necklace, stepped toward me, and fastened it around my neck.

I touched the pendant. “Why?” I said.

“Because I wanted to do something nice for you. You work so hard, and you’re always thinking about other people. I wanted to show you someone was thinking about you.”

At that moment, I stopped thinking and lunged for him, wrapping my arms around his waist and touching my lips to his.