I lift a wedge sandal to distract her. Her pupils dilate the way they do when she sees something extra pretty. She’s staring at the crystals lining the T-strap on the front of the shoe when her focus narrows and shifts back to me.
“You’re having sex for six months and then what? If you’re not pregnant, you just go back to how things were before?”
I squint my eyes at her, hating how her question is laced with insinuation. For the record, I don’t hate her. Just her question. Because I can’t answer it.
“It’s not like we’re bored and we want to spice things up. Christian and I have five degrees between the two of us. We’ve weighed the pros and cons, and yes, the list of cons is long, but we’re doing it.”
Beth’s lip quirks to the side. “Doing it.”
“Beth,” I warn.
She places the shoe back on the table and tucks a stray hair behind her ear. Her eyes fall from ceiling to floor as she inquires, “Have you?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but no, we haven’t.” I point at her.
She points a finger back. “Since you’re letting me in on this big secret of yours, it kind of is my business.” She drops her finger and walks past me, running a hand along a very sexy black stiletto. “When are you planning to try?”
“He wants to go on some dates first before we hop in bed.”
She raises a brow. “Dates?”
“Yes.”
Her casual demeanor drops, and her eyes are back to doing that bugged-out thing. If it wasn’t for her Botox, I’d think she’d form a wrinkle.
“And you don’t see how this will get complicated? What happens if one of you falls for the other, and your heart gets broken? Things can get messy. This is a child you’re talking about.”
“No one is falling in love,” I assure her, although I’m not entirely sure if I’m assuring her or myself. “Yes, we will be bound in a more emotional way, but that’s part of creating a life. One we have agreed to bring into this world. I don’t even know why I’m getting ahead of myself. I might not be able to get pregnant at all.”
“You have to go into this as if you will.”
I hold my attention on a pair of baby-blue stilettos, but my mind wanders somewhere else—to a place where walls are lined in that exact shade of blue, and there’s a whitewashed crib on the far wall. Inside it is a baby who smells of powder and coos when I peer at him.
I drop the aloof facade and get real with my sister. “I want it, Beth. There are some women who are destined to be mothers, and I’m one of them. It’s not because I think it’s what I should do. I know, without a doubt, it’s what I was meant for.”
“Oh, Meadow, I want you to be a mom, too. It’s the most fulfilling thing in the entire world. It’s also the most nerve-racking, gray-hair-inducing, need-a-glass-of-wine-at-the-end-of-the-day experience, but it’s awesome. You’ll be a fantastic mom. I just want to make sure you’re not rushing into this.”
“Rushing? I feel like I’ve been waiting forever. As for me and Christian, don’t worry. We’re not rushing into anything. There are still two more dates.”
She pauses by the loafers and skims the leather of one with her pointer finger. “About these dates,” she pries with a sly grin and an inquisitive gleam in her eye.
“The first was dinner. Nothing crazy. I don’t know where the next will be. And, no, we haven’t even kissed, so don’t ask.”
“But there will be sex?” she asks.
“Yes. That’s kind of the point.”
She’s quiet. Her eyes roam the display, but they don’t focus on anything as she lets out a hum, letting me know she has something she wants to discuss but doesn’t know how to ask it.
I cross my arms and tilt my head with a smile. “What?”
Her cheeks pink. “You have to admit, you’ve always wondered what he’s like in bed.”
“Not once.”
“Liar! Remember that cookout I had a few years ago when he was doing P90X?”
I bite my lip, and hold back a groan.
Christian was over for a visit to Beth and Brian’s house, and we were all rewarded with him in his shirtless glory. Those abs I love to admire were at their most prime with an accompanied V—the glorious indentations on men that run along their outer abdominal muscles and disappear into their bathing suit.
“You have to tell me if he still has those speed bumps,” she demands.
“He does,” I say too quickly and then wave off her slack-jawed expression with a dismissive hand. “The Gallaghers had a pool party last summer. You missed it because of Dylan’s baseball game.”
“Fucking baseball. Makes me miss all the abs.” She pouts, and I make a face.
“Don’t fantasize about Christian. It’s weird.”
“I can’t now that he’s your baby daddy.”
I make another face. “Don’t call him that either.”
“What do you want me to call him? The sperm donor?” She’s being pithy, but I get it. This is the type of thing people will say when they find out.
“Just call him Christian.” I hold up the blue sandals she had her eyes on since we first walked in here. “And buy these?”
She nods, and we walk toward the register.
We’re in line for a hot minute before she asks her next inappropriate question. “Are you going to play naughty nurse and doctor in bed?”
“For the love of—”
She waves a hand, as if fanning herself. “Doctor! Oh, doctor! I’m burning up. I think I’m coming down with something. Shall I take my pants off because I need a physical?”
I push my hand into her face that has now gotten ridiculously close to my ear and shake my head. “I don’t even want to know what you do behind closed doors.”
“Let me tell you about this swing—”
“You told me,” I cut that conversation short.
Without a few drinks, I’m even more disinterested in hearing about the bedroom swing my straitlaced brother bought for them. It’s quite comical because, looking at Beth with her short-sleeved sweater and capri pants, she’s the picture of prim and proper. She’s silly with me, but most people don’t get a true read on her inner workings. She’s like a vault—keeping everything secret from the outside world, only showing what she wants to be seen. It’s why she’s always been my sounding board. And, for this life event, my one person. I’m glad I told her my secret. Christian was right. I feel better.
Beth pays for her shoes, and we’re walking out of the store when I stop before heading in our respective directions.
“Hey, listen,” I start, and she turns, sensing the seriousness of what I’m about to say.
Her eyes soften as she looks at me with her full attention, letting me know she will hear me out.
“I told you about this because I’m nervous, and I wanted to tell my sister. Don’t tell anyone. Brian will hate the idea, and my parents will ask a million questions. I already know they’re going to try to make us get married before the baby comes. If there’s a baby. It’s just easier if you keep this a secret.”
She smiles as she pulls me into a hug. “Absolutely. I’m here for you. Whatever you decide, I support you. It’s your body and your life. I’d never try to stand in the way of that.”
“Thanks.” I step back.
“If I ask questions, it’s because I care about you. I’m kind of excited you and Christian are doing this. Like I said before, your babies will be gorgeous.” She waggles her brows and swings an arm around my shoulders. “Can I offer a piece of advice?”
“Can I stop you?”
She shakes her head and talks as we walk out of the store, “Even if you get pregnant on the first try, I’d lie and ride it out to the six months.”
“Beth!” I scold.
“No-strings sex with Christian Gallagher for six months? Girl, it’s the least he can do for the lifetime of hard work you will endure, raising his child.”
“I have to get back to work.”
<
br /> We’re on the curb as she hails a cab. “I’m gonna hit up Chelsea and see what I can find down there. I’m on the hunt for a ballet flat for all hems.”
“When you find it, let me know.” I wave her good-bye before making my way back to the office.
Now that I’ve told Beth about my and Christian’s plan, it feels a little more real. It’s no longer this idea but a reality. The other night, I told myself I would be so frazzled over the idea of me and Christian creating a baby that I wouldn’t stress over actually having a baby. I must have been doing it as a defense mechanism because, now, a warmth rushes through my belly at the possibility.
I’m going to be a mom.
If you get pregnant, Meadow.
Yes, I know. It might not happen, but at the same time … it could.
I pause at the children’s boutique. The store is lined with soft pinks and blues. The mannequins are dressed in layettes and bonnets. A swell of tears fills my eyes as I think of what it will be like to hold my baby for the first time.
Will it be a boy? Maybe a girl. Will it be as Angela and Beth predicted at my birthday dinner—green eyes and full lips with hair so dark that it’s almost black? Or perhaps it’ll have blue eyes, as Christian said. A tall child with wavy hair and his dimples.
Next door is a frozen yogurt shop. A group of preteens comes out with their school uniforms rolled up to show too much thigh for their age, and their faces are painted with more makeup than I was allowed to wear as a kid. One gives me a snarl, and I laugh, remembering myself at that age. I was kind of a dork and totally into books and theater, but I’m sure I gave my parents attitude for merely existing. We all think we know everything when we’re the most lost than we will be for the rest of our lives.
An overwhelming feeling takes over me.
I want that, too. I want the snarky teenager who thinks they’re better than me. A determined soul who I will butt heads with, only to allow them to come into their own. I want the sweet and the sour, the tantrums and the tears. I know it will be hard, but I’m ready.
I need to rein in my daydreams until it happens. So many things might change. Christian could change his mind. I might, which I highly doubt. And, like I’ve been saying to myself as a mantra, it might not happen because I can’t.
“Hey, Angela,” I say as I walk into Park Avenue Cardiology.
“Your mom’s in Dr. G’s office,” she states hurriedly as I walk past her desk.
“I didn’t know she was coming in today.”
“She wasn’t on the calendar. Apparently, she called him on his cell phone, and he told her to come in immediately.”
Nothing about that sentence sits right with me. “What happened?”
“I don’t know, but your next two patients are here early, and we’re backed up.”
“Get them into exam rooms six and nine. I’ll be there in a few to triage.” My feet are speeding down the hallway toward the exam rooms.
My mom is exiting one with Christian’s father behind her. He has her chart in his hand.
“What happened?” I ask, doing my own Gail Duvane–like evaluation of my mother, using my eyes and intuition.
Upon initial observation, she looks fine. Her skin color is good, as are the whites of her eyes. She doesn’t appear to be losing weight or look faint. Her hair is sprayed in a perfect style, and she’s wearing a maroon pantsuit with shoulder pads.
“Meadow, darling, what’s wrong?” she asks as if her being here for an emergency visit is nothing to be alarmed about.
“Angela said you came in for an emergency appointment.”
She dismissively waves me off with a smile. “It’s nothing. I was feeling flutters, so Thomas said to come in.”
I raise a brow and then move my know-it-all stare to Thomas. “From New Jersey?”
He’s standing behind my mother, looking like the spitting image of his son, only thirty years older and shy of about three inches. He knows he can’t keep my mother’s medical records a secret from me, no matter how many HIPAA laws there are in this world.
“Your mother is in atrial fibrillation.”
She already had open-heart surgery ten years ago to replace her leaking mitral valve. Knowing my mother has an aging replacement valve with a now-chaotic and irregularly beating heart does not sit well with me. Heart palpitations and shortness of breath when you have a replacement valve could be signs of its deterioration.
My mom fiddles with the strap of her bag. “Look at her. Her mind is thinking of all the things that could be going wrong,” she says, playing off the visit as if it were nothing more than a checkup.
I take the file from Thomas and scan it. “Your valve is leaking again. Your heart can’t stand to skip beats. It’s working overtime already. Have you two discussed cardioversion?”
Thomas gives a reassuring nod. “We scheduled one for next week to see if we can shock the heart back into rhythm.”
“Great. We can do it at St. Xavier,” I say, hugging the file to my chest.
“What are we doing at St. Xavier?” Christian appears behind me and places a hand on my shoulder as his chest presses up against my back. “Hello, Mrs. Duvane.”
“Hello, honey.” She leans forward to give him a kiss on the cheek. Both cheeks. Sometimes, she takes her French heritage a little too far. She’s only been to Paris once. “How are you?”
“Doing great. Are you here for an appointment?” Christian asks, seeming just as confused to see my mother standing in the hallway as I am.
“Gail is in AFib. We’re doing a cardioversion next week,” Thomas explains to his son.
Christian takes the stethoscope from around his neck and places it on his ears. He raises his brows to ask my mother permission to listen to her heart. Begrudgingly, she unbuttons the top button of her blouse to let Christian have a listen.
“Have you gotten a look at the valve?” he asks his dad as he focuses on the beats coming through the stethoscope.
“I’ll get a better look when we do the procedure,” he replies, raising his white brows at my mom.
Clearly, they ‘re passing judgment between the two of them about their overly concerned children.
“I want the visuals from the procedure.” Christian’s words are determined. He takes the stethoscope off his ears and snakes it back around his neck.
“How lucky am I to have the Gallagher men looking after this old heart of mine?” she says charmingly. “Oh, how I wish you two were attracted to each other. Meadow, why don’t you meet a nice man like Christian to settle down with?” She turns toward Thomas and speaks to him like I’m not even here, “Athletes make terrible husbands.”
That is my cue to leave. “I have patients to see. I love you, and I’ll make sure I’m there for your procedure.”
“Love you, too,” she says as she gives me a kiss good-bye and then lightly slaps Christian’s cheek. “You are so handsome. Will you think about settling down, too? I know for a fact that your mother would like grandchildren.”
Thomas chimes in, “He’s too busy, trying to best his old man around here.”
“Saving lives one day at a time.” Christian smirks at his old man.
“A God complex.” Thomas nudges my mother in the arm. “Sometimes, I have to pull him down from the pedestal he climbed up on.”
Christian digs in with the challenge. “You sure you can reach that high, old man?”
My mother thinks this is all hysterical. She leans forward with a laugh and claps her hands. “You two are too much.”
I laugh. “Enjoy them. I have to get to work.” I turn the corner and stand outside exam room nine, taking a peek at the patient’s chart before I go in.
“Meadow,” Christian calls just as I’m about to step inside.
I back up and lean against the wall. I haven’t seen him in days, and I’d be lying to say I kind of missed him.
“Hi,” he says.
“Hi,” I say back. “I had a nice time the other night.”
&n
bsp; “Me, too.” He rubs his lips together and lets those dimples escape. “Date two.”
“Two.” I nod. I was wondering when he would ask me on date two. “What shall we do?”
He sways his head to the side with a matching grin. “I thought I would show you how I woo on date two.”
I repeat his sentence in my head and then ask, “Is the rhyming part of the woo for date two?”
“Only for you.”
“What do you have in mind?” I ask.
He leans his shoulder into the wall and crosses his arms. “I’ve thought this through.”
“And ideas?” I prod, waiting for him to tell me.
He smiles. “I’ve come up with a few.”
“Are you going to keep rhyming?”
“On cue.”
“Christian,” I scold.
“We won’t break curfew.” He’s being cheeky.
I drop my shoulders. “You’re just being ridiculous now.”
“Let’s go to the zoo.”
With the step of my foot, I say, “Seriously—”
“I am being serious. Let’s go to the zoo. You free on Sunday?” His question is casually asked, but he’s serious. Christian is asking me on a date to the zoo.
I straighten my shoulders and consider his proposal. “I am.”
He pushes off the wall and taps me on the nose. “Great. It’s a date.”
“A date.” I nod.
He takes a step forward, his chest close enough that I can feel the heat searing off him. There’s something unspoken in his eyes, but his voice is loud and clear when he says, “Do you remember what I said happens on date two?”
I swallow. My memory is sharp when it comes to all things Christian Gallagher. “I do.”
He leans forward, his mouth close to my ear as he whispers, “Date two.”
I let out a gasp and utter, “With you.”
His hand snakes along my waist as he adds, “When we’re through—”
“Good-bye, Dr. Gallagher.” I spin around and head into room nine before he can finish his ridiculous rhyme. I close the door just in time to hear his deep chuckle behind the door.
My entire body is vibrating as it rolls over the bumpy pavers that line the Mall of Bethesda Terrace. We pass through the elegant archways and staircases as I pray I don’t fall on my ass.
A Really Bad Idea Page 12
