by Nicola Marsh
Then I remember her softer side, the woman beneath the mask, and I want to hug her tight for being there for me when I needed her most.
“She’s fine.”
“I can’t believe she cooked all that food for her supper party.” Maggie hesitates, gnawing on her bottom lip, as if she wants to say more. “I know she’s your friend and I like her, but if I spend more than thirty minutes in her company I need to double my herbal detox teas.”
I laugh. “Yeah, she’s pretty full-on. But her heart’s in the right place.”
Maggie nods but her eyes shift, like she doesn’t quite believe in Ris’s sainthood. “See you same time next week?”
“Only if you bring coffee and muffins.”
“I can do that.” Maggie pauses at the door, her expression uncertain. “I enjoy our chats.”
A sliver of guilt worms its way through me. She obviously values our friendship but technically she’s my boss and I have to be nice to her. Would we be friends if we’d met another way, out of the workplace?
“Me too.” I force a smile and raise my hand in a casual wave.
When she leaves I check my inbox and sure enough, Ris has emailed Jodi’s details. Jodi Van Gelder, twenty-five, Manhattanite, employed as a PA for an advertising firm I haven’t heard of in New York City, five months pregnant and the father is unknown.
I enter the data into a patient file, wondering what it is about this girl that has Ris calling in favors. She’s never done it for other clients at the center before. I’m curious but I can’t ask Ris. She’ll get suspicious and will clam up using some bogus client-therapist-confidentiality crap.
I know who I’ll ask.
My lover will know.
He knows everyone and everything in this town and for some reason there’s something about Ris’s interest in this girl that has me wondering what’s really going on.
Twenty
Claire
“Are you serious?” Dane picks me up and swings me around, his enthusiasm infectious. When he puts me down, his eyes are glistening with unshed tears. “Why would you even have to ask me this? Of course I think this is a great idea. A baby in four months…” He shakes his head like he can’t believe it. Join the club. “It’s incredible. I know you mentioned private adoption before but I actually thought we’d have to jump through hoops for years to adopt.”
“Me too, that’s why Ris thought of us.” I cup his face in my hands, thrilled he’s so excited. “I still can’t believe it.”
“She’s sweet.” He brushes a kiss across my lips, the first real intimate contact we’ve had in weeks. When I release his face he drags a hand across his eyes and sniffs. My big, rugged husband never cries so it melts my heart that he’s tearing up. “So what happens from here?”
“Ris said if you’re agreeable she’ll organize a meeting between the mother and us. That way, we can get the ball rolling with all the legal stuff. Maybe talk about where she’ll stay for the next four months.” I hesitate, not sure how he’ll take the rest of the news. “As part of the private adoption arrangement we would pay for her accommodation, that sort of thing. Help support her?”
He ruffles the hair at the nape of his neck in a gesture I find endearing. I always have to remind him to get a haircut. I don’t mind because when it reaches this length, skimming his collar, I love running my fingers through it when we lay sated together in bed.
When’s the last time that happened? Since the moment we’d met we’d been crazy for each other in the bedroom. I’d held him at arm’s length for months emotionally but physically we’d had an all night sex-athon after our second date and hadn’t stopped since.
Except for that period before my wedding when I cited old-fashioned values to abstain so our first night as husband and wife would be all the more special. He’d thought I was kooky but agreed. He never suspected I had an ulterior motive, like ensuring the STD got treated and I was clean in time for our honeymoon.
Guilt lies heavy in my gut like a stone I can’t budge no matter how hard I try. I hate myself for that lapse, hate that I’m still feeling the repercussions hanging over me all these years later.
When was the last time we had sex? With all the tension after the fertility testing, then waiting for the results… damn, had it really been that long? Six weeks?
“We can afford it but…” He screws up his nose like he’s smelt something bad. “Doesn’t it seem like we’re buying her off somehow?”
The thought has crossed my mind but I’ll do anything to make this process go smoothly, including lie to myself.
“Ris said it’s an accepted part of a private adoption and Jodi’s not flush with funds so she can’t stay in town until the baby’s born unless we pay for it.”
Some of the tension bracketing his mouth softens. “Jodi? That’s her name?”
“Yeah.” I save the best news for last. “She’s having a boy.”
His eyes light up as he reaches for me. “Don’t you mean we’re having a boy?”
We grab at each other’s arms, holding on like drowning people grasp at lifebuoys, staring at each other in bewilderment. “Are we really doing this? Having a baby?”
I nod, finally allowing myself to get swept up in the excitement when Dane lets out a whoop and crushes me to his chest. My cheek is pressed against his heart. It’s racing. Suddenly, I want to make it race for a different reason.
“Honey?” I snuggle into him tighter.
“Hmm?”
“It’s been a long time since we… you know.”
He stiffens. All over. Eases away to look at me. “We’ve been under a lot of pressure. I didn’t think you wanted to.”
“I guess I haven’t felt very sexy lately.”
It’s the truth. I’ve been so miserable, wallowing in self-pity, that I haven’t felt like myself, let alone a desirable woman.
He frames my face with his strong hands and stares into my eyes. “You’re always sexy to me.”
We usually make love leisurely, taking our time with foreplay. Dane’s diligent in everything he does and I’m grateful for that. He loves going down on me. He’s a master with his tongue. He draws it out for as long as possible, making me teeter on the edge so my orgasm is explosive. Only then will he chase his own satisfaction.
Today is different. He pushes me down onto the carpet, rucks up my denim skirt and tears off my panties, another first. I expect him to lower his head. He doesn’t. He unzips. When he’s inside me, he’ll hit all the right spots.
I wriggle a little, impatient to get to the good stuff. I never knew how much I missed this until now. Maybe it’s been too long or maybe Dane’s mad at me deep down for being so moody these last few weeks but he’s different today. Less focused on me.
I reach for him and he slaps my hand away. “Playing hard to get, huh?”
I push up on my elbows, watching him pleasure himself.
“Making sure you know what you’ve been missing out on.” He winks as he swoops in for a kiss that leaves me breathless.
“Turn over,” he murmurs in my ear, his hands already flipping me.
Another surprise. Dane always likes looking me in the eye when he first enters me. Sure, he enjoys taking me from behind but we always start face to face. I’m excited. I like this new, take-charge lover. I’m barely on my front before he spreads my legs and thrusts deep.
The carpet muffles my moan and I almost bang my head on the coffee table when he slides a hand under me and finds my clit. I’m so sensitive after so long, craving a quick release.
Thankfully, Dane’s in sync because he’s not drawing this out. He rubs my clit as he thrusts in and out, harder and faster than I expect. It’s exciting and exhilarating, having my husband want me this much. The exquisite friction borders on painful as he pounds into me, pushing us both over the edge into the kind of mind-blowing orgasm I only have with him.
“You okay?” He gently nips the back of my neck and I arch a little, my hypersensitive nerve endings alre
ady craving more.
“Never better.” His weight is pinning me to the carpet and I wriggle against him to prove it.
“I’ve missed us,” he says, kissing his way across to my shoulder before sliding out of me. “Back in a minute.”
I don’t move. I’m too sated, too relaxed, for the first time in a long time. I feel like we’ve taken a giant step forward in our relationship. We’ve battled a monumental hardship in dealing with our infertility and have come out on the other side. Well, almost. Hopefully it will only be formalities from here and in four months’ time I’ll be holding our child.
Our baby boy.
Maybe I’m being too sentimental, focusing on the baby and not all the other stuff that can go wrong before we get him. But for now it makes me happy and I haven’t felt this way in a long time.
I hear Dane re-enter the living room and his feet stop in front of my face. “Come on, lazy bones.”
“Too tired,” I mumble but raise myself up onto my forearms.
“In that case, it’s bed for you.” He helps me to my feet then sweeps me into his arms.
I whack his chest but I laugh. I’ve missed our playfulness so much. He marches into the bedroom and lays me on the bed. We crawl under the covers and stay wrapped in each other’s arms for ages, murmuring general stuff, the way we used to.
It isn’t until later, when Dane’s soft snores lull me to sleep, do I remember.
I forgot to ask him about the message on our answering service.
Twenty-One
Marisa
This is it.
The day I can make my best friend’s dreams come true.
In an effort to distract myself until our meeting at midday I took a few hours off from the Help Center and spent the morning in Montauk, volunteering with a bunch of kids. My 9–5 work hours at the center are flexible and they never begrudge me taking time out to work offsite occasionally. Though technically it’s not work when I value the interaction more than the youth do. I rent out a room at a rec hall and most of the kids are drop-ins who know they can tell me anything and not be judged for it. They come from rich Hamptons’ families but experience the same issues teens do the world over: an inability to fit in, feeling invisible and disempowered, the vagaries of social media, bullying, and problems with the opposite sex. Word has spread that I’m not an uptight adult dolling out trite advice and I saw eight kids this morning, six girls and two boys, reluctantly keen to ask me anything from contraception to deferring college.
Time had flown and I’d been buzzed. I consider it an honor to be a trusted adult in their topsy-turvy lives and I hope my girls have similar faith in their guidance counselors at college.
As I cruise the highway back to Gledhill, I mentally rehearse the professional spiel I’ll need to give Jodi, Claire and Dane so I can maintain my impartiality; even though I’m anything but impartial. The sky is gray today, reflected in the murky Atlantic, and while I’ve never believed in omens I hope the oppressive weather isn’t a sign of trouble ahead with this adoption.
I’ve gone over the paperwork countless times, even though I’ve done this before. I refuse to allow even the smallest margin for error where my friends’ lives are concerned. Besides, if the paperwork’s in order, once Jodi gives the go-ahead – and I’m hoping that’s soon – the adoption can proceed quickly.
An hour later I hit the outskirts of Gledhill and my nerves take flight. Caffeine is the last thing I need but I pull over outside Java Groove, the coffee shop near work, and order a double shot grande to go.
Pedro, the twenty-something Spanish barista who has a lot to do with the queues here every morning, flashes his signature grin that works well with the younger ladies. I feel heat creep into my cheeks, meaning this old girl isn’t immune to a handsome charmer either.
“Late start at work today, Marisa?”
“Something like that.”
He pours the café’s signature roasted blend into the machine, grinds it, before adding the fragrant beans to the elaborate coffee machine. “If you haven’t had lunch, I recommend the pecan muffins.” He kisses his fingertips before releasing them with a flourish. “They are to die for.”
I chuckle at his salesmanship. “You’re good for business, Pedro.”
He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. “But am I good for you?”
I roll my eyes but laugh all the same. “Is that coffee nearly ready? I’ve got an important meeting to get to.”
He clutches his heart. “Always out to save the world, my Marisa.”
“Your Marisa is thirsty and in a hurry, so hop to it.” I snap my fingers and he laughs, working his magic on the machine to produce the perfect coffee.
“One of these days I will convince you my intentions are honorable.” He hands over my takeout cup with a bow.
“And one of these days you’ll figure out that shameless flirting will only get you so far.” I pat myself on the chest. “And it’s totally wasted on this old duck.”
He appears suitably outraged. “Old duck? Never.”
I laugh and hand over my money. “See you tomorrow.”
“I’ll be waiting.” He presses a hand to his heart again. “Have a good day.”
I smile. “You too.”
Feeing ridiculously lighter like I always do after Pedro’s over-the-top antics, I walk the rest of the way to the Help Center. The coffee hits the spot and by the time I enter the building I’m alert and ready to face what promises to be one of the most important client meetings of my life.
Our reception area, more a casual meeting room with a few chairs, several beanbags and a stack of ancient magazines, is surprisingly empty.
I cross to the desk, manned by the ever-efficient Lisa. “Where are—”
“I saw you coming up the path so I’ve taken them to the waiting area near your office.”
“Thanks, you’re a gem.”
She beams under my praise, a far cry from the terrified teen who’d stumbled in here three years ago, desperate to escape a violent stepfather. We live in an affluent part of the world but that doesn’t stop the darker aspects of life creeping in. Most of our runaways and domestic violence victims come from rich families in the area but money can’t solve all problems, and often facilitates them. Drug addictions and alcoholism are commonplace when money can buy the best of both vices.
My office is the last down a long, narrow corridor and I spy Claire and Dane sitting beside a huge bay window with distant views of the ocean. Lisa will guide Jodi to my office when I buzz her. We never let prospective adoptive parents and single mothers bump into each other unexpectedly: their first meeting is fraught enough.
“Hey, you two. All set?”
Claire leaps to her feet and hugs me, and Dane does the same. They’re speechless and I don’t blame them. I can’t believe that if all parties agree to it I can get legal proceedings underway today. This time in four months Claire and Dane may have a baby boy. It makes me want to bawl.
“Let’s go into my office.” I open the door and gesture them in. “Any questions before Jodi arrives?”
Dane shakes his head, mute, as Claire asks, “Has she agreed to the adoption yet?”
“No, not yet, but I’m hopeful.” I perch on the edge of my desk, hating their matching crestfallen expressions. “The adoption process is filled with uncertainty and I understand how hard this must be for you, but keep the faith, okay?”
They nod and Claire says in a tight voice, “Should we ask her anything in particular? Show how enthusiastic we are?”
“Just be yourselves.” I reach out and pat Claire on the shoulder. “I’ve facilitated private adoptions before so if you’re uncertain about anything at any time, don’t hesitate to ask.”
“Thanks, Ris.” Claire’s relief is audible but Dane’s tense, the muscles in his neck standing out.
“Ready to meet Jodi?”
They nod so I stab at the intercom button on my phone twice, a signal to Lisa to bring Jodi in. A few moment
s later there’s a brief knock at the door before it opens to reveal a nervous Jodi.
“Thanks, Lisa,” I say, opening the door wider to welcome Jodi in. “Come in, Jodi.”
When she enters I clear my throat, assuming my best professional persona. “Jodi, I’d like you to meet Claire and Dane Casey.”
Despite being briefed on all aspects of this meeting Jodi appears ready to flee.
“Hi.” She tentatively shakes the hand Claire offers, then Dane’s, but drops his quickly like she can’t abide his touch. Considering the predicament she’s in I’m guessing she’s not too enamored of the entire male species at the moment.
“Nice to meet you.” Claire’s calm but I hear the quiver in her voice. Claire’s a strong woman. She never sounds weak but in that moment I want to embrace her, to offer hollow reassurance and tell her everything’s going to be okay.
There are no guarantees. I’ve seen private adoptions like this fall apart in the past when I’ve tried to broker a good solution for everyone concerned. I’m worried for my friend, that if this goes pear-shaped she’ll blame me. I’m hoping it won’t come to that and Jodi will stick around and hand over her baby when the time comes.
“Thanks for agreeing to meet with us,” Dane says, waiting until all of us are seated before he sits. He’s such a gentle giant, one of those men who are inherently good and will do whatever it takes to make the woman he loves happy. I liked him from the moment we met. I like how he idolizes Claire and supports her in everything.
I should be so lucky.
“So you want my baby?” Jodi blurts, her gaze switching from Claire to Dane, who she glares at with ill-concealed hostility. Her arms are folded protectively over her belly, like the last thing she wants is to give it up. She’s wiggled into the furthest corner of the sofa, as if trying to put as much distance as possible between her and my friends. And her glare continues to swing from Claire to Dane and back again, accusatory and mutinous, like she blames them for her predicament. This isn’t looking good.
