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.