Jocelyn

I peel the mask off my face, smiling at the world. I haven’t been able to sleep on a plane in years. Usually I’m so tense I leave the cabin with a knot in my shoulders the size of a softball, but not today.

Today, the cabin smells fresh and floral, and my neighbors—a young couple with a baby—seem adorable, and not at all annoying, despite the thirty minutes of straight screaming from the child.

I suppose that’s what a night of falling in love will do to a woman—it changes her, and turns the world just a few more shades of pink. Love, or maybe it was the marathon of delicious, toe-curling sex. That probably didn’t hurt.

All these years of yoga, I think, and I’d been doing it all wrong. I didn’t need any of that deep breathing crap or stretching business, I just needed a few solid orgasms with a magnificent specimen of male.

“Fun weekend?” The harried mom asks next to me, bouncing her baby up and down. “You look so refreshed and carefree.”

“Oh, yes.” I grin. “It was incredible.”

“New love?” She leans against her husband’s arm, who’s too busy staring out the window to notice. “It’s written on your face,” she whispers. “I remember those days. So great.”

“It is!” I fan myself. I’ve never been one to make many girlfriends, not besides Lindsay, at least—and I pay her to be involved in my life. That sort of means she has to be my friend. “He’s the most incredible guy in the world.”

“I’m so happy for you. Enjoy it.”

“Thank you,” I say, smiling as the baby smiles back at me. “What about you? Does it ever fade?”

“It doesn’t fade,” she says, again tossing a grin over her shoulder. “It just changes. No glamorous weekends in New York for us, at least not now. But that’s okay because we have something more important than ever... don’t we, Charlie?”

“His name is Charlie?” I ask, sticking out a finger until he latches on. “He’s so sweet.”

“We think so too!” She uses a high-pitched baby voice. “Six months tomorrow, isn’t that right, buddy?”

“I can’t imagine how you do it all. Do you stay home with him?”

“Nope, I’m a teacher.”

My eyes widen in surprise. “How?!”

She laughs. “You sort of just do it. Priorities fall in order—sometimes they change or adjust, but it’s doable. Plenty of women do it. Do you want kids?”

My smile grows fainter. “I’m not actually sure.”

“They’re great. A lot of work, but we think we’ll keep this guy, don’t we, Charlie?”

The baby giggles, as if he understands the joke.

We gear up for landing, and the mother becomes engrossed in keeping the baby from crying. I can’t help but wonder if I’d be any good at it—if that’s even the life for me.

Boxer already has a child. I love Boxer, and if we stay in love, the next logical step—sometime in the future—is marriage. That would make me a mother of sorts, and the thought sends a shiver down my spine.

I want to be good at it—to have the soft touches like the woman next to me, the goofy voices that make her son smile, but it doesn’t come natural to me. Charli deserves the best mother the world can provide, but what if I’m not good enough for her?

“How’d you know when you were ready?” I ask the woman as we land. “To have kids.”

“You’re never ready,” she says. “You just jump in and figure it out from there. Don’t overthink it too much. Things fall into place.”

“Thanks,” I say, gathering my things as the doors to the plane open. “It was really nice meeting you and Charlie. You have a beautiful family.”

“Enjoy your young love,” she calls, winking after me. “He’s a lucky guy.”

I’m so distracted by this family, my new friend who’s name I’ll never know, that I forget to turn my phone on until I hop into a taxi. Once there, I finally power up my cell, give the driver my home address, and sit back as the messages roll in.

The first one is from Lindsay.

Scratch that, the first three are from my assistant.

Lindsay: Nice weekend?! Deets, please!

Lindsay: What happened with Boxer?!

Lindsay: Boss! Are you flying? What happened with Rumpert?

Lindsay: Call me, boss.

Boxer: Joss, I miss you. Please call me tonight. Would love to chat.

Confused, I hit speed dial to Lindsay. “What’s going on?” I say the second she answers. “Why all the urgent texts?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Lindsay says, her voice high pitched. “Boxer signed with Rumpert?!”

“What?”

She hesitates. “You didn’t know.”

“That can’t be,” I tell her, sounding more confident than I feel. “Trust me, this weekend was... incredible.”

“That’s great, boss, but I think you should swing by.”

“Your apartment?”

“You remember the address?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Seriously,” she says. “Swing by.”

I update the address to the driver, who makes a sharp left at the next light. Meanwhile, I hover my finger over Boxer’s message, but I don’t click into it. He’s still flying, so it’d do no good to respond. And there’s the small fact that I don’t even know what I’m responding about.

All I know is that my pink dress seems suddenly pale, and I feel like an idiot for wearing it. It’d seemed like such a fun idea this morning, so new and fresh, marking the start of something just as new and fresh between Boxer and myself.

But now Rumpert... of course Rumpert weaseled his way into this.

I just need to find out what stunt he pulled this time.