A Really Bad Idea

by Jeannine Colette

  I read the title in bold blue font, “Affordable egg freezing?” I’m half-asking, half-comprehending what this piece of paper is doing in my mother’s bag.

  “Your fertility decreases at age thirty-two, and by thirty-five, well, you might as well play Russian roulette. Lois, from the club, her daughter did it and says it tremendously freed up her mind. It’s nice to keep your options open.”

  “By freezing them in”—I look down at the address on the front of the brochure—“Hoboken?”

  “You can do it anywhere you want. I did some research. There’s a fantastic doctor at St. Xavier Fertility Center, and they’re doing all kinds of innovative things for girls your age.”

  Peering over Mom’s shoulder, I catch Beth’s shocked expression before she goes back to pretending to look for something in her cabinets. I drop the brochure onto the kitchen island and look back at my mother with a forced smile on my face.

  “Duly noted.”

  “Meadow—”

  “Are you hungry? ’Cause I’m starving.”

  Desperate to drop the conversation, I grab a carrot from the vegetable platter on the counter and shove it in my mouth. Nothing brings your mood down quite like your mother whipping out a brochure on harvesting your eggs.

  Grabbing me by the elbow, Mom escorts me outside onto the back deck. It’s a sunny day with a slight chill in the air. My knee-high boots are keeping my legs nice and warm over my jeans, but I rub the side of my arms as the crisp air weaves through my cable-knit sweater.

  “There’s my Meadowlark.” Dad comes up from behind and gives me a giant bear hug.

  I swing around and return his affection, breathing in the familiar scent of cigar smoke that is lingering on his shirt. My brother, Brian, is standing by his side. I give him a closed-mouth smile from the comfort of my father’s embrace.

  I lean back and look up at my dad with raised brows. “You and Mom invited your friends,” I say and then add out the side of my mouth, “and their sons.”

  “That’s your mother. She wants to see you happy.” He says this with a laugh, like it’s the most casual thing in the world to invite only their friends with single sons to their daughter’s family-only birthday dinner.

  “I’m more than capable of meeting someone on my own.”

  “This way, you’ll know he has all of his teeth,” Brian says before he takes a drink of his Heineken and walks off.

  He never passes an opportunity to dig into my ex-husband—this comment referring to the fact that Brock is missing two adult teeth from fights on the ice. I don’t mind the digs, really—except, sometimes, it feels like he’s digging into me.

  “George, let go of the girl. She has guests to mingle with,” Mom says as she pulls me away from my dad. Waving her other hand, she calls out, “Frank! Frank Romano. Come over here. Look who it is!”

  Dad gives me a crooked smile as he pats me on the shoulder. “I’m going to make myself a Tom Collins. You girls want anything?”

  “Johnnie on the rocks,” I call out, but he’s already walking toward the bar.

  Mom hooks her elbow with mine and pulls me into her as she whispers, “Frank is a real estate attorney. His parents say he’s doing fantastic. Apparently, he’s had quite the crush on you since high school. His mother said she once found a picture of you in his sock drawer.”

  I want to hide my face in mortification, but it’s too late. Frank is waddling over. His black hair is slicked back and glistening in the sun, and he looks like he hasn’t shaved in days even though I’m sure he put the razor to his skin this morning.

  His arms are out wide as he says in a deep, grumbly voice, “Meadow Duvane! How are ya?”

  I cordially pat his back as he envelops me in a giant hug—a little too tight, as I feel my diaphragm shrinking.

  “It’s so nice to see you,” I say with a hand to my chest as the air circulates back into my windpipe.

  Frank went a little overboard on the cologne this morning, and it’s wafting up into my nostrils.

  Mom places a finger under her nose and lets out a little cough. “Your father told me you just bought a place in the city.”

  “I got a real nice one-bedroom in Hell’s Kitchen. Very up-and-comin’,” he replies with an accent he acquired from his parents who were raised in Brooklyn.

  My mother seems pleased. “I was thinking you and Meadow could connect now that you’re practically neighbors.”

  “That’s not exactly neighbors,” I mumble, but it falls on deaf ears.

  “She’s just getting her feet wet in the dating pool. Maybe you can take her out to some swinging singles spots. Show her where the older girls meet men,” she offers me up.

  My head falls in my hand as Frank turns with a grimace while he gesticulates with his hands. “I heard you went through a messy divorce. Too bad about him sleeping with all those women. I saw he’s dating that Victoria’s Secret model now. Must be hard for you to shop for underwear. Hey, you don’t think he ever slept with anyone in your house—you know, on the kitchen counter or anything? If you want to unload that apartment of yours, I have contacts who can get you a new place. Maybe a studio in Chelsea? It’s supposed to be very hip among the single ladies. The guys are swarming, ready to hook up. Clock’s ticking, if you know what I mean.” He nudges me in the ribs with his elbow.

  “No. Not really,” I state slowly.

  “Shit, I’m sorry, Meadow … look, I’d really like to take you out.” He holds his hands up in mock surrender. “I swear, no real estate talk.”

  “That’s a very nice offer, but I don’t think I’m quite ready to date.”

  “It doesn’t have to be a date. Consider it two friends exploring the city. Although you’re a real catch, Meadow. There is no harm in putting yourself out there. A pretty blonde like yourself deserves to be with someone who appreciates everything you bring to the table.”

  “Thank you, Frank,” I say genuinely and then gaze aimlessly around the backyard with a muted pause.

  My mother must sense the uneasiness in the conversation because she blurts out, “If you’ll excuse us, I want Meadow to say hello to everyone. You two should definitely exchange numbers before you leave.”

  She pulls me away as Frank says something along the lines of getting together for steaks.

  We’re off the deck and on the grass as she leans into me. “His mother said he’s looking to settle down. He really is a nice boy.”

  “Mom, the man just gave me the intense desire to burn my underwear and bleach my entire kitchen.”

  “Okay, so he’s a little blunt. Out of all my friends, these are the only ones who have single sons.”

  “Are you saying, these are the only single men in the entire state of New Jersey?” I fake being shocked to make my point even more.

  She gives me that mom eye I’ve seen way too many times in my life. “What I’m saying is, you don’t have the luxury to be picky. At your age, all the good ones are taken.”

  “I’m not taken. What does that say about me?” I glance around the yard toward Garret and Aaron, the remaining two men my mother thinks are prospects.

  “You know what I mean. You can go to a bar and meet a random man, but you recall how that worked out for you in the past. At least these gentlemen come from good families.” She pulls me further into the yard. “You remember Garret Kent. He recently went through a divorce, although he pays his ex-wife alimony—unlike other people.”

  I bite the inside of my cheek as she walks us toward the outdoor firepit where Garret is standing, talking to someone on his phone. He looks just as handsome as he did when we were in high school. We dated for a hot second during our junior year. He asked me to the winter formal. He copped a feel without asking my permission, and I threw up on his Nikes. It wasn’t my finest moment, and he eventually moved on to greener … looser pastures. We’ve run into each other a few times over the years, and each time has been cordial. Like today.

  I don’t miss the way his dark eyes w
iden in delightful surprise as we approach.

  “I have to call you back,” he says to the person on the other end of the line and ends the call without waiting for their response.

  His wavy blond hair is brushed back, and his long-sleeved pink polo shirt showcases his lean muscles.

  “Wow.” He kisses me on the cheek, and his mouth makes a sucking sound. “You haven’t aged a day.”

  “Thank you. How have you been?” I brush his spittle off my cheek with my shoulder.

  “No complaints,” he says with a smile, and I swear, a diamond just glistened off of his pearly whites.

  “I saw on Facebook, you have a son. He looks just like you.” I hope I don’t sound like a stalker.

  “That’s my Jordan. He’s the only good thing that came out of my marriage,” he declares as his hands slide into the side pockets of his pants. “Sometimes, the first time around isn’t right. Hoping I have better luck the second time.” He makes this comment like his second-time prospect is standing before him.

  My smile is big, but I feel this heavy pit in my stomach.

  While I’d like to remarry someday, the thought of falling in love again seems unattainable and almost … daunting. I enjoyed being married, and while our relationship might have been a bit whimsical, it was the best time in my life.

  Garret walked away from his marriage with a beautiful boy. A testament to a love he once held dear, and me, well, all I walked away with was a fancy apartment. Sure, the view is exquisite, and it’s a prime piece of real estate, but at the end of the day, it doesn’t fill the void in my heart.

  Mom seems to mistake my smile for some kind of connection between Garret and me because she lets go of my arm and steps to the side. “I’ll leave you two to catch up.” In a blink, she’s across the yard and in a circle of conversation with her friends.

  I lean back on my heels and rub my hands together. “So … Jordan. He’s a good kid?”

  “The best. He’s my buddy. I get him every other weekend, which is cool because it’s just us boys bonding,” he states.

  “That’s awesome. My dad and Brian were like that—buddies who did everything together. They still golf together every week. You must hate it when Jordan’s back at his mom’s.”

  Garret runs a hand along his chest as he puffs it out. “Nah. It’s great. I can go out with friends, sleep in, catch up on work. It’s a perfect scenario.”

  My brows knit together in confusion as I try to understand his positive outlook on seeing his son every other weekend. I can’t imagine having a child and not being able to see him or her every day. “But you probably wish you had him all the time.”

  “Perfect,” he reiterates. “Women love it. They get my undivided attention without my kid hanging around. For example, if I wanted to ask a hot nurse over to my place for a sleepover, I can. You busy tonight?”

  Mouth agape, I try to form a response, but the words don’t come to me. I smack my lips together as he flashes me a smile.

  “Let me explain,” he starts, holding out his palm. “Kids are great, but they’re a pain in the ass. I don’t have to do homework, get him up for school, take him to the doctor. I pretty much just get to do fun stuff with him and leave all the parenting headaches to my ex. And, trust me, four days a month is plenty. So, about tonight? I have a hot tub in need of a hot pair of legs to climb into it.”

  My hands drift to my stomach, and I sense my face reddening at the smug smile on Garret’s face. My jaw is clenched, and my adrenaline spikes. I open my mouth and raise a finger, ready to tell him what I think he can do with his hot tub when someone calls my name.

  “Meadow!”

  I turn to see Christian at my side as he snakes a protective arm around me faster than a piranha eats its prey.

  Ever the gentleman, he extends his other hand to Garret, but there is no mistaking the tic in his jaw. “Hey, buddy. How are you? Can I steal her? We have a lot of office stuff to go over.”

  As Garret’s eyes travel to their joined hands, I can almost feel how tight Christian must be squeezing his.

  Without giving Garret a chance to respond, he steers me away. His firm hand on my waist, he points me toward the back of the yard, away from my parents and their guests. We walk into the garden where Beth keeps a finely manicured oasis of tulips, daffodils, and hyacinths.

  “Breathe,” he says, sensing my tension levels have risen.

  I do as he said by closing my eyes and inhaling the fragrant perfume of the nearby crimson roses in full bloom. When I open my eyes, it’s with an exhale of released tension, and I look into his dark green irises with flecks of honey sprinkled throughout. They’re striking against Christian’s naturally bronzed skin.

  I ruffle his thick brown mane. “Aren’t you my knight in shining armor?”

  He releases his hold on me, and my body chills despite the afternoon sun.

  “If I saved anyone, it’s Garret. You were about to tear into that guy,” he says.

  “How did you know?”

  He rubs a thumb down my forehead, toward the center of my eyebrows. “You get a little crinkle right here when you’re mad. Sometimes, you pout your mouth, too. It’s adorable actually.” I make that crinkle face at him, so he adds, “Unless it’s aimed at me. Knight in shining armor, remember?”

  “Then, thankfully—for his sake—you were here,” I joke as my mind catches on to the fact that Christian is here. At my brother’s house. At the party my mother threw. I hit him in the arm, hard, and feel a sting in my fist. Not expecting it, he falls backward slightly as I scold him, “You knew my mom was doing this and said nothing?”

  He’s rubbing his arm and smiling at me, leaving small creases around his eyes. “I didn’t know about it until last night at the game. My parents will be here soon. They were invited, too.”

  Makes sense. Beth said they invited four of my parents’ closest friends to the party.

  “Great. Now, I’ll have both of my bosses here to witness Gail Duvane’s New Jersey edition of The Bachelorette.” I look back at the yard with a sour stare.

  I can hear my mom’s vibrant voice, the one used for storytelling, as she weaves a tale about something that happened on their recent vacation. She’s leaning over and touching Mr. Romano’s arm as she laughs with her words. That’s my mom. She’s a toucher. And a busybody. And, while I’m kind of annoyed, it’s also impossible for me to be mad because I know she only pulls these little stunts because she cares.

  When I turn back to Christian, he is standing with a rose against his chest. He must have snapped it from the nearby bush. He holds it out with a sincere grin. “Forgive me?”

  The way he’s looking back at me with a sad puppy-dog expression has me tilting my head to the side and fighting a smile. “You’re an idiot.”

  “I’m your idiot,” he says with a devilish grin. “I came to save you. I can’t stay though. I have to be at the hospital in an hour.”

  “You drove all the way here just to see me in my misery for twenty minutes?”

  He picks a piece of lint off my shoulder. “Worth every minute in traffic.”

  “I’m glad you’re here,” I blurt, feeling a faint blush creep across my cheeks. “I mean, I could use a reprieve from my mother’s meddling. She brought me a pamphlet on egg freezing. Can you comprehend how mortifying that is? I’m turning into a washed-up, old hag who’s going to live with a house full of cats.”

  “You’re not going to live with cats.” He sways his head from side to side. “Dogs maybe but definitely not cats.”

  “I’m serious. I’m almost thirty-three years old, and now, I feel this rush to pick a suitor or else my eggs will disintegrate, and I’ll never be able to have children.”

  “You know better than anyone that you have plenty of time to think about kids. Modern medicine lets women conceive well into their forties.”

  “I know. But I would like to meet someone and start a family. That was the point of being married—until Brock had to be a prick
and stick his dick in other women.”

  “Hey now.” He pulls me in for a hug, wrapping his arms around my shoulders and tucking me into his chest.

  I wrap my arms around his body and inhale his scent through the crisp white button-down he’s wearing.

  His chin rests on my head. “There’s someone out there for you, Meadow.”

  From his mouth to God’s ears. “You sound so sure.”

  Pulling back, he levels his eyes with mine. They’re soft and filled with purpose. “I promise, there is someone out there who will make all your dreams come true.” Christian glances over my shoulder toward the party members. “Maybe not any of these tools. Seriously, what was your mother thinking? These guys are the worst suitors for you. She should never play matchmaker.”

  “Um, Christian, you’re here, too.” I wince.

  With a pointed finger, he declares, “Case in point.”

  I turn my face to the side, my long hair falling over my eye. As I run my fingers through the tendrils, pulling it back, I catch my mom and her friends watching Christian and me. “They’re staring.”

  He places a knuckle under my chin, raising my gaze to meet the friendly expression shining back at me. “Do you know why they stare? They can’t stop looking at the brave woman who, despite having a fucking douche bag as a husband, stands here, beautiful, smart, and confident. They’re impressed. And that, my friend, is why they brought their sons here to see you. You’re quite the catch.”

  His words caress over me like a ray of sunshine, and that dark cloud floats away. “I needed that.”

  He gives me a warm hug, and I melt into it. “Go get ’em, tiger.”

  We walk back to the deck where I join in and listen to my mom finish a story about the new restaurant she went to. When Dad comes back over, he’s holding a glass with a cute little umbrella resting against the rim.

  I glance over to see Christian talking to Brian and Beth. His hand is inside one of the pockets of his slacks as his other hand skims his masculine jaw while he listens to Beth as she speaks. His tall frame towers over my brother, who is nearly as tall. There’s just something about Christian and the way he holds himself that makes him seem larger than life.