The Best Friend Problem

by Mariah Ankenman

  Pru’s chair scraped on the hardwood floor as she rose slightly, slinging one arm around Mo and leaning over to embrace Lilly in a heartfelt hug.

  “You two are seriously the best friends a girl could ask for. I love you both.”

  “We are pretty awesome,” Mo agreed.

  “And we love you, too, Pru.” Lilly pulled from the hug, not as comfortable with shows of affection. “You’re going to make a wonderful mother.”

  Standing between the two women whose opinions she valued most in this world, her eyes glossed over again. “You really think so?”

  “Without a doubt.”

  Mo raised her coffee mug. “Of course you’ll be awesome. Who was the one, senior year, who made sure I drank a gallon of water after downing two Long Island Iced Teas and a Three Kings shot?”

  Spring break senior year in Las Vegas. Oooooh, she had bad memories of that trip.

  Mostly of the nasty shrimp in the hotel buffet, which had her stuck in the bathroom for a day and a half. Also, of her lovable but crazy roommate’s inability to turn down a dare.

  “You really shouldn’t have bet with those guys from Fort Lauderdale.”

  “Hey, I won, didn’t I?”

  Yes, but she’d almost gotten alcohol poisoning in the process.

  “Stupid frat boys didn’t know they were messing with a high elevation chick. We are not cheap drunks.”

  “So, what does the IUI process entail?” Lilly asked, bringing the conversation back to the matter at hand.

  Pru sat down and explained the visits to her doctor, the process of getting approval, the fertility medication the doctor had put her on, and the next steps.

  “But first, I have to pick a donor.”

  Mo rose from her seat, heading toward the coffee pot for her second cup. “A donor?”

  “Sperm donor.” Pru waved her off when her friend offered the pot, while Lilly accepted. “I have a binder the office gave me with potentials. They’ve all been tested and cleared. And their profiles included background health, education, pictures—”

  “Pictures?” Mo’s lips lifted in an eager smile.

  “Not the kind you’re thinking of.”

  Her friend’s smile fell. “Damn. That’s no fun.”

  She chuckled. Leave it to Mo to think a doctor’s office would offer dick pics.

  “I’ve got it narrowed down to ten, and once I make my final pick, the doctor will set up an appointment for insemination based around my ovulation.”

  “Sounds practical.” Lilly nodded.

  “Sounds boring,” Mo argued. “Babies are cool and all, but half the fun is making them. If you ask me, you’re missing the good stuff, Pru.”

  “She wasn’t asking you.” Lilly pointed a finger. “She was informing us of her very well thought out and carefully planned decision. And we support her fully.”

  “Of course we do. To Pru, the best future mommy ever!”

  Mo raised her mug; Lilly followed suit. Emotions clogged her throat, but Pru managed to raise hers as well.

  “To adding another member to the Terrific Trio.”

  Guess they’d have to go by “Fantastic Foursome” if everything worked out as planned. Oh, she hoped everything worked out. She had a job she loved, amazingly supportive friends, and she was beginning her journey to motherhood. It might be slightly unconventional, but it was her plan, and she liked it.

  Who needed a man when you had such wonderful friends at your side?

  Chapter Three

  “Ward, I swear to God if you don’t get your ass over here and clean your dishes, I am going to shave your eyebrows in the middle of the night again!”

  Finn laughed, reaching across the table to grab a card from the stack in the middle. While firefighting could be an intense, heart-pounding job when they were on a call, most of their time was spent doing rig checks, working out, and sitting around waiting for a call. Basically, he got to hang out with his friends all day. Pretty sweet job if you asked him.

  Since their schedule at Denver Fire consisted of twenty-four hours on and forty-eight off, they tended to bond more than normal coworkers. That’s what happened when you spent half your time living with people and responding to calls, some of them heartbreaking. To Finn, his fellow firefighters were closer than friends. They were his second family. And like all families, they loved to give each other shit.

  “You better do what she says, dude. Díaz will do it.”

  Ward scowled, reaching for another card after Finn discarded. “I know. I remember the painful four months it took to grow my damn brows back the last time. My little sister tried to teach me to draw them on, but they always looked like dying caterpillars on my forehead.”

  “You did look pretty ridiculous,” Turner agreed, grabbing a card from the deck.

  The slight curve of his fellow firefighter’s lips let Finn know Turner had pulled the card he needed. Five years of playing poker together, and the man still could not hide his tell.

  “Five seconds, Ward!”

  Ward threw his cards down, rising from his chair. “All right, all right. I’m coming.”

  “Don’t worry about your hand.” Díaz grinned as she took his vacated seat. “I’ll play for you.”

  “If you make me lose, I’m shaving your eyebrows.”

  Díaz snorted. “Come at me with a razor and see what happens.”

  Wouldn’t happen. And not just because Díaz could kick any of their asses—the woman was crazy strong and sneaky—she always won whenever the crew sparred during morning workouts—but also because Ward was the worst poker player in the firehouse. Poor guy’s tell could be seen from space.

  “Raise or call?” Finn asked once Díaz glanced at Ward’s abandoned hand.

  “Raise.”

  She tossed a few chips in the middle pile. Turner eagerly upped the ante. Finn folded. Like that old song his dad used to sing, he knew when to hold ’em and when to fold ’em.

  Bruiser sat up from her doggy bed in the corner of the station kitchen and started furiously barking. They didn’t have an official firehouse dog, but since he’d adopted Bruiser, the little Yorkie mix had been the unofficial mascot. Everyone loved her, and with Finn living in a tiny studio apartment—which sat unoccupied during his twenty-four-hour shifts—he brought her along to the firehouse.

  “What is it, Bru, baby?”

  The pup rushed over to him, sniffing his pocket. Leaning down, he stroked the little furball behind one floppy ear. As he reached in to pick her up, the tiny dog shoved her nose into his crotch.

  “You ate the last sausage I had, you horker.” His dog would eat until she couldn’t move and then try to sneak one more treat. He had no idea where the little dog put it all. When she continued to sniff, he lifted her to his chest. “What is it, girl?”

  The second he asked the question, his phone chimed with an incoming text. Bruiser whined, tiny legs whirling in the air, nose pointing down. This wasn’t the first time his dog had known a call or text was coming. Weird. Maybe there was some high-pitched frequency that happened seconds before, which only dogs could hear.

  Shifting Bruiser in his arms, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, a smile curling his lips as he read the screen.

  “Pru?” Turner asked.

  He glanced up to his fellow firefighter. “How’d you know?”

  The man shrugged. “You always get that sappy smile on your face whenever she calls or texts.”

  Finn scowled. “I do not have a sappy smile.”

  “You do, man,” Ward called from his place at the sink.

  Finn ignored his coworkers and focused on Pru’s message.

  P: Are you free tonight to meet for dinner? We need to talk.

  Uh oh. The worst four words in the English language.

  Nothing good came after the phrase “we need to talk.” It was what you used when ending a relationship. But he and Pru weren’t in a relationship. They were friends. You couldn’t dump your best friend. Well,
you could, but he didn’t think Pru would ever “dump” him. They’d been through thick and thin together. Since the moment they’d met in middle school, they’d had each other’s back.

  He set Bruiser on his lap, and his thumbs flew across the screen, typing out a reply.

  F: Everything okay?

  He waited, holding his breath as the tiny dots finally turned into words.

  P: Yes. Everything is fine. I just have some important news to share with you.

  He breathed out a sigh of relief. He didn’t know what he’d do if he ever lost Pru’s friendship.

  P: So are you off tonight?

  He was. Normally he liked to stay at home the first night off-shift. Decompress. But Pru’s text had his nerves on edge. He’d never be able to relax knowing she had something important to share with him.

  F: Yeah. In a few hours. I can meet you at City Tavern around six.

  P: Sounds good. See you then.

  “Hey, Jamison. You okay?”

  He glanced up to see Díaz staring at him, concern pinching her dark brows.

  “Huh? Oh, yeah, I’m fine.” If “fine” meant he was going to spend the next few hours worrying about whatever news Pru had to tell him, then sure, he was fine.

  Díaz did not seem convinced. “Everything okay with Pru?”

  Ward walked back over to the table, drying his hands with a dishrag. “Man, I do not know how you stay just friends with that woman.”

  Tension had his back going stiff. “Pru’s fine, and I stay just friends with her because she’s awesome and I don’t want to screw anything up.”

  Finn liked women. In fact, he loved them. But he didn’t want anything serious. As a firefighter, he risked his life every day to save others. He loved his job, loved saving people, but he knew the dangers. In the course of his career, he’d lost a few good friends to the hazards of the job. That was a possibility he accepted. He’d accepted he might die in the service of others. He couldn’t live with the chance of leaving a wife and kids to mourn him. He’d seen what that did to families, to futures.

  Pru had always dreamed of white picket fences. A husband with a nine to five job, who coached Saturday little league. She and Finn were great friends, but they’d make a terrible couple.

  “Hey,” Ward finished drying his hands and tossed the dishrag into the station’s laundry basket. “All I’m saying is Pru would make an excellent girlfriend, and I can’t believe numbnuts over here doesn’t see that.”

  He saw that. Hell, he knew how amazing Pru was. And he wasn’t blind. She was beautiful—gorgeous, in fact. Her dark brown eyes always reminded him of rich, creamy chocolate. She was half a foot shorter than him, but it just made her easier to pick up and carry around, something she made him do whenever she got tired when they went hiking. Which was always. He’d never tell her, but it made him feel a bit like a superhero.

  Her round face and slightly upturned nose gave her the appearance of one of those pixie things in that movie they’d seen as kids, the Spanish one where the monster had the creepy eyeballs in his hands. Finn had to sleep with the lights on for a week after watching it. And though she always complained about the static quality of her fine, chestnut brown hair, he thought it fit her perfectly, tightly pulled back and controlled in her trademark ponytail, but crazy and wild whenever she allowed herself to let it down.

  Pru to a T.

  “We’re friends. End of story.”

  “As much as I hate agreeing with Ward on anything,” Díaz said, ignoring the middle finger Ward sent her way, “I have to agree—even I think she’s a catch.”

  “Ditto,” Turner chimed in.

  What the hell? Why were all his friends on his ass today?

  “Aren’t you married, Turner? To James?”

  “Hey, just because I’m married doesn’t mean I’m dead. Or stopped being attracted to other genders. Monogamy does not erase sexuality.”

  Finn shook his head. His coworkers were all crazy. He and Pru were friends. Friends! Men and women could be friends and nothing more, despite what every Hollywood rom com ever made said.

  “Are we playing or what?” he asked.

  His fellow firefighters shrugged, returning to the game. His eyes shifted to the clock as nerves cramped his stomach. Outside, he played it cool as Turner dealt a new hand, but inside, worry consumed his mind. This was going to be the longest end of shift ever.

  …

  Why was she so nervous?

  Pru sat in a back booth at City Tavern, a bottle of locally made hard cider in front of her, its label shredded into a pile on the table. When she got anxious, she fidgeted, and her anxiety was so high right now even Mo’s deep yoga breathing techniques couldn’t help her.

  She didn’t understand. Why did it feel as if she was about to jump out of her skin? All she was doing was informing her bestie of her decision to use a sperm donor to get pregnant. It wasn’t like she was asking for his sperm.

  A flush heated her cheeks at the thought of Finn and sperm. Where had that come from? She didn’t think of Finn and sex in the same sentence. Okay…maybe she’d had one or two inappropriate sex dreams over the years, but she’d also had a sex dream about Mr. Clean once, so her dreams clearly didn’t mean anything.

  It was just nervousness about discussing an important life decision with someone she held very dear manifesting in…strange ways. That’s all. Finn was a guy, so of course her baby-obsessed brain would see his potential and subconsciously draw conclusions. Had to be it. No other reason.

  “Hey, did you already order?”

  She glanced up to see Finn smiling down at her. His sandy blond hair was slicked back, indicating he’d grabbed a shower before heading over. The dark gray T-shirt he wore clung to his muscles and showed off the colorful artwork covering his arms from his wrists to where the tattoos disappeared behind his sleeves. He’d once tried to convince her to get a tattoo, but she could barely handle the flu shot. No way could she sit still for hours while some sadist poked at her with a needle gun.

  “Just a drink.” She lifted her naked cider bottle.

  Finn’s dark blue gaze shifted to the pile of paper bits in front of her. His lips turned down, concern filling his face. As he took the seat across from her, he nodded to the pile.

  “So, what’s wrong? What did you want to talk to me about?”

  “Nothing is wrong. I just—”

  “Hey, Finn.” Laura stepped up to their table. “Need a drink?”

  Finn smiled at the woman who’d become their regular server. Pru knew the younger woman was working on her pre-med degree at CU Denver. They always left her a generous tip to help her pay for school, and she always gave them top-notch service.

  “Yeah, do you have any new IPAs?”

  “We have a limited run of Naked Faust from 14er Brewing.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Laura left to get Finn’s beer, and Pru chuckled softly.

  “What?”

  She lifted one shoulder. “You are such a hipster. You really need to branch away from IPAs at some point. There’s a whole world of beer out there.”

  Her bestie lifted his hand to count on his fingers.

  “First of all.” His gaze fell to her cider. “Cider is the hipster drink for cretins who can’t stomach a good hoppy drink. Second, I like supporting local brewers. And third, IPA is delicious.”

  Gross. She couldn’t stomach the bitter drink. She preferred the crispness of a fruity cider. Not too sweet, zero hops, all delicious. It was a playful argument they’d been having for years now: beer versus cider. She supposed if all went well in a month or two, she’d be off alcohol for at least nine months.

  Please, let everything go well.

  Which brought her right back around to the reason she’d invited Finn out tonight. Operation: spill the baby news. Laura came back with Finn’s beer and took their order of burgers and fries, and once she’d left, Pru knew it was now or never. Lifting her bottle to her lips, Pru took a deep, fortifyi
ng chug of cider.

  “All right, now you’re freaking me out.” Finn’s brow pinched. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing is wrong, I swear. But I do have big news.”

  The soft squeak of flesh gripping glass sounded in the air as Finn’s knuckles turned white with the tense grip he had on his drink. A slight pinch of guilt turned her stomach. She hadn’t meant to make him worry about her.

  “Okay.”

  “You know how I’ve always wanted to be a mom?”

  Finn nodded, lifting his beer to his lips. “Sure.”

  “I’ve decided to pick a sperm donor and be inseminated.”

  Beer spewed across the table, sprinkling her face with a fine mist of sour-smelling liquid as Finn snorted and choked on the sip he’d just taken. Pru jumped from her seat, rushing over to pound him on the back as he coughed and hacked the alcohol from his chest.

  “Oh my God! Are you okay?”

  “What *cough* did you *cough* say?”

  She waited a moment, rubbing his back until the hacking and wheezing subsided then retaking her seat.

  “I said I want to be a mother, and since all men suck—”

  “Hey!”

  “Present company excluded!” She gave him a sassy wink. “Most of the time.”

  He rolled his eyes but motioned for her to continue.

  “Since it doesn’t look like I’m going to find a life partner anytime soon, I’ve decided to become a mother on my own.”

  He sat there, a stunned expression filling his face, mouth slightly open in shock.

  “I’ve already gotten approval from my doctor. I have enough in savings for multiple tries in case it doesn’t work right away. Plus, I’ve talked with Lilly and Mo to ensure I can take time off after the baby is born. I’ve researched Head Start programs and applied for the waiting list on some very highly rated daycares. I’m prepared for anything—”

  “Pru, Pru, Pru.”

  Finn leaned forward, grabbing her hands. She hadn’t even realized she’d gripped her napkin and started nervously ripping the poor, flimsy paper into a pile of tiny flakes.