As Good as New

by Jennifer Dawson

  “We were teenagers.”

  “Yeah, so?”

  “I was supposed to be showing you I’ve matured.”

  She gave him a sly smirk. “Actually, back then you took a lot more time.”

  His brows slammed together. “You little brat.”

  He pinched her, then tickled her ribs. She screamed and twisted under him, pushing his hands away as she moved against him in the most delicious of ways.

  “It’s your fault,” he said, wiggling his fingers into her waist, where she was most vulnerable.

  “Evan! Stop!” She gasped for breath as she laughed.

  “No way.” He licked at her neck. “Tell me how good it was.”

  She squealed and, unable to push him away, her fingers started their own path down his stomach. “It was the best.”

  Their bodies slid together and they went still. Their eyes met and heat filled the space between them. His desire and longing for her stirred, renewing with such intensity it took his breath away. He touched her cheek. “It’s not enough.”

  Her hands trailed over his back and he shuddered. “It’s not.”

  “Maybe we can make it to bed this time.”

  “I don’t think I care.”

  He groaned and pulled out of her, sitting back on his haunches only to freeze. What had he done? His heart kicked up a notch in his chest.

  She blinked at him. “What’s wrong?”

  He dragged his hand through his hair. “I didn’t wear a condom.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Well, wasn’t this just the ultimate afterglow buzzkill.

  As blindsided as he looked, Penelope sat up, shaking her head. “I didn’t even think of it.”

  How could she have not thought about it? She was the most organized person on the planet. She had spreadsheets for her spreadsheets. She kept lists. Multiple-part lists with bullet points. She never forgot anything.

  So how could she forget this, of all things?

  “Fuck.” He blew out a hard, angry breath, ripping her from her thoughts. “I’m sorry. Goddamn it. How could I not think about it?”

  “It’s not your fault, Evan. We both should have thought about it. We are both to blame.”

  Their eyes met.

  She read the regret in his expression and hated it. After all this time, and now this happened? “It will be okay.”

  “Are you on birth control?” Evan asked, sitting back on his haunches.

  She shook her head. She never took unnecessary medication if she could help it and didn’t like the pill because of how it messed with her hormones. It hadn’t mattered in the past, because she’d always made her partners use protection. “I’m not.”

  He scrubbed a hand over his face. “I don’t even have a good excuse. It never even crossed my mind. In my whole life, I’ve never forgotten to wear a condom. Ever.”

  She nodded. “I haven’t either. I guess we got carried away.”

  “I’m so sorry, Pen. This was the last thing I wanted.”

  Okay. She needed to pull it together. She took a deep breath. There was only one way to handle this. Practically. “I have an app on my phone that tracks my period. I’m pretty sure it’s the wrong time.”

  He nodded. “All right.”

  She rose as gracefully as she could off the floor, yanking her top over her breasts while the skirt of her dress pooled at her knees. He followed suit, pulling up his pants and zipper but discarding the belt.

  So they were dressed. Next step, figure out when she might have last ovulated. All she needed to do was take this next step, then go on to the next one.

  She picked up the small purse she’d dropped in the elevator and took out her phone, only to sigh when she looked at the display.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I have about fifteen missed calls and just as many texts.” She wanted to scream. All she wanted was one night without being bombarded with reality. Was that too much to ask?

  Evan looked at his cell. “I’m about the same.”

  She gritted her teeth and scrolled through her apps until she found what she was looking for. She squinted at the calendar filled with the little dots, and worried her bottom lip. “I think it’s okay. It’s not impossible, but it’s not that likely.”

  “So that’s good then, right?” Evan cleared his throat, looking distinctly uncomfortable. “I mean, I know it’s not foolproof, but we’re Catholic . . . Isn’t this kind of our way?”

  Penelope’s head snapped up and a smile ghosted her lips. “Your parents had four kids.”

  He shrugged. “I’m sure we must have been planned.”

  She raised her brow. “Your parents never planned anything.”

  “I know for a fact they planned Maddie. My mom wanted a girl.”

  “Fine, we know one of you was planned. Should we call her up and ask her about the rest?”

  He scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “Probably not a good idea.”

  “Probably not.” Okay, next step. It sat like a lump of coal in her belly, but she wouldn’t avoid it. She was not an avoider. She handled her problems head-on. No matter what. All she needed to do was be pragmatic about it. Women did it every day. She put her phone on the table and squared her shoulders. “There’s only one real option here if we want to ensure complete protection. I’ll take the morning-after pill.”

  He studied her for a long time before saying slowly, “Is that safe?”

  “I don’t know, I think so, but I’ll have to Google it.” So that’s what she did. She sat on the chair, picked her cell back up, and opened the Internet app. She read about ten different pages of consistent information until she felt sure she had the facts. The research calmed her enough to think. This would be okay. It was a solution. She looked up to find Evan sitting in the chair across from her, watching her with a strange expression on his face, but she didn’t ask about it. She just recited what she’d learned as dispassionately as possible. “From everything I read, it’s ninety-five percent effective if taken in the first twenty-four hours and it’s generally safe for all women with some minor side effects.”

  His jaw hardened. “What are the side effects?”

  She clicked the side effects link. “Nausea, abdominal pain, fatigue, headache, menstrual changes.” She shrugged, scrolling through the rest of the list. “Annoyances, really.”

  A muscle jumped in his cheek. “And nothing more dangerous?”

  She shook her head. “It doesn’t seem like it.”

  “I don’t like the idea of you suffering at all because of my stupid mistake.”

  “It’s both of our mistake. I could have stopped you at any time, and I didn’t.” They’d gotten carried away and forgot. She’d forgotten. She was organized, but she was still human; it had been an error. She cleared her throat. “It seems like the best option.”

  He nodded. “That’s what it seems like.”

  Awkwardness permeated the air, making her feel cold and alone.

  All that heat. All that desire. Gone. It squeezed her chest and made her throat tight.

  Far too brightly, she smiled. “Great, then it’s settled.”

  She needed a second to herself, and she stood, turning toward the bathroom, only to have him snag her wrist and pull her back around. He stepped close and slid his arms around her. His bare chest and warm skin felt like heaven and she wanted nothing more than to sink into him, but remained rigid in his embrace.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice soft.

  “Me too.”

  He ran a finger down her jaw and lifted her chin. He brushed his mouth over hers. “Nothing’s ever easy for us, is it?”

  Tears stung at the back of her throat, and only then did she realize how upset she was. She shook her head.

  He sank his fingers into her hair. “All I wanted was one night where I didn’t have to think about anything, or anyone, but you.”

  “Me too,” she said, her voice sounding like a croak.

  His expression darkene
d, his eyes flashing emerald. “Is there anything I can do to make it okay?”

  “I don’t know.” She blinked, and wetness tracked down her cheek. “I just want to go back to how we were in the elevator. Reality is already banging on the door. Is it wrong that I want to ignore it?”

  It was so unlike her. She was the responsible one. The designated driver. The one who dealt with problems head-on and refused to look the other way. But she was so tired. And she’d wanted him for so long.

  She wanted a night off. Was that too much to ask?

  “No, I feel the same way.” He smiled, and wiped the tears away. “Why don’t we do this? It’s a perfect night, and we’ve got a huge balcony that overlooks the entire city. I’ll order room service and champagne and we’ll sit outside and relax and talk, and let ourselves get naturally back on track.”

  Actually, that sounded just about perfect. “Yes, that’s a good plan.”

  The corners of his mouth lifted. “I have my moments. I mean, not over there on the floor or anything, but right now.”

  She smiled. Maybe they could salvage this night after all.

  * * *

  An hour later, maybe a bit drunk on champagne, Penelope laughed as he told a story about a locker room incident from his rookie year. The sound of her laughter floating through the night air eased his mind a little. Maybe this mistake wouldn’t once again ruin everything between them.

  Stretched out on a double chaise longue, they lay under the stars with the whole city in front of them, and talked.

  Talked like they used to, but everything was new and undiscovered. They put away who’d they’d been in the past, all those years of silence, and learned each other now.

  It was nice. Unexpected. A happy consequence of their rash behavior. The more they talked, the more she seemed to relax, and Evan drank her in.

  Feet bare, long legs stretched out, one knee bent, her white dress rode high on her thighs. Dark chestnut hair a tangled mess, it tumbled over her shoulders and she was so gorgeous he couldn’t stop staring at her.

  She sighed, a contented, happy sound that made Evan’s chest squeeze.

  “What was that for?” He brushed a curved finger over her bare arm. Now that he could touch her, he took every opportunity to do so, even though he kept himself from getting too carried away. It was like they’d made some silent pact to learn each other and he wasn’t going to ruin that.

  She smiled and waved her glass of champagne over the vista of the city. “Growing up, did you ever in a million years think we’d end up here?”

  They’d grown up in a working-class neighborhood on the South Side, with streets lined with identical bungalows and apartment buildings, the confines of their lives locked into a ten-block radius of their community.

  Most of the people they’d gone to high school with still lived there, working their trade jobs, living paycheck to paycheck as construction workers, firemen, cops, and electricians. Most of the guys he’d hung out with in high school were still friends; they played cards on Friday night, drank at the neighborhood bar on Saturdays, and went to each other’s Sunday barbecues.

  He shook his head. “Nope. Back then, every guy I knew wanted to play pro ball. That’s what we talked about. The dream. Even though schools were scouting me, it was still impossible to really imagine.”

  She rested her head on the cushioned pillow. “Do you ever talk to any of your old friends?”

  Evan shook his head. “I tried to keep in touch, those first couple of years, but I don’t know, they couldn’t forget I was living their fantasy, and I couldn’t forget I was no longer one of them. Eventually, I stopped trying.” He laughed. “My mom said she got an invite in the mail for me, a fifteen-year reunion at Lucky’s.” The local watering hole.

  Penelope pushed her hair off her cheek. “I haven’t heard that name in forever. Are you going to go?”

  He furrowed his brow. “I doubt it. Especially now.”

  Penelope shrugged one bare shoulder. “You think the only reason they’d want to see you is if you’re a football star?”

  “Maybe they’d be happy now that I’ve fallen.” His stomach tightened at the reminder that part of his life was over. That he didn’t know who or what he was anymore without the game.

  “Hmmm . . . ,” she said, the sounds purring in her throat. “Maybe they’ll surprise you.”

  “Maybe.”

  “I think you should go.”

  He tried to envision walking into Lucky’s. Seeing all his old friends, making small talk, and then he realized that in his mental picture Penelope stood next to him, and it didn’t sound so bad. “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll go, but only if you come with me.”

  Her expression widened, as though he’d surprised her. “Really?”

  “Really.”

  Slowly, she nodded. “All right. This should be interesting.”

  He laughed. “That’s one way to put it.”

  They fell silent, and he rested his head on the cushion, looking up at the stars. Penelope rose onto one elbow, propping her head against her open palm, watching him.

  He met her gaze. “What?”

  “Have you thought about it?” In the glow of the soft lights, her expression was a bit wary. “What you’re going to do now?”

  He wasn’t sure he wanted to talk about it, but she wanted to know, so he’d tell her. “Since the hit, I’ve thought of little else.”

  “And? Have you come up with anything?”

  He shook his head. “I can’t get over missing it. Nothing else holds any appeal.”

  She smiled. “I’m going to tell you something I’ve never told anyone, but you can’t laugh, and you cannot let it go to your already too-big head.”

  That caught his attention. He shifted more fully to face her. “I promise.”

  An actual blush spread over her cheeks. “You know, last year you did that fantasy camp for underprivileged kids.”

  Unsure where she was going, he nodded. “I remember.”

  She looked away and shrugged one shoulder. “Well, I went to it and watched you.”

  Shocked, he blinked. “You did not.”

  “I did.”

  “Penelope, I would have spotted you.”

  “Well, you didn’t.”

  * * *

  Penelope couldn’t believe she was telling him this, but here she was confessing her dirty little secret. She never thought she’d tell him in a million years, but it was something he needed to hear. Something that would help him see himself in a different light.

  Or at least that was her hope.

  She covered her face with one hand and shook her head. “Oh my God, this is so embarrassing.”

  He pulled her hand away. “Tell me.”

  She hadn’t known why she’d done it, or what had possessed her. It had been a rare impulsive move. “If you remember, you gave tickets to Shane, but the camp was during his honeymoon, so he couldn’t go.”

  Evan nodded. “I remember.”

  “Well, I went into work that Saturday to catch up on some things and I had to go into Shane’s office.” She sighed, unable to believe she was humiliating herself in this way. But here she was, and there was no turning back. “The tickets were lying on his desk. And, I don’t know, I got this impulse.”

  Evan laughed, and when she scowled at him, he covered it with a loud, fake cough.

  “Anyway, I decided to go.”

  “How did I not see you? It was invite only, so it’s not like the place was packed.”

  Okay, now came the really crazy part. Evan had always been the one person who brought out her spontaneous, crazy, throw-caution-to-the-wind side. A flush spread out over her chest. She cleared her throat. “Well, um, I went to a shop in Bucktown and bought a wig.”

  He burst out laughing. “You did not.”

  “I did.” It was out there now, she might as well own it. She gave him a sly smirk. “I was a pixie blonde that day. I wore jeans, a giant Ditka jersey, and aviator sun
glasses. You’d never have guessed it was me.”

  Still laughing, he shook his head. “I actually think I remember you.”

  She punched him in the arm. “You do not.”

  “Do too.” He grinned at her. “I thought you had a hot ass.”

  It was her turn to shake her head. “You’re the worst.”

  His expression turned sly. “Do you still have the wig?”

  “It’s in a box in my closet.” She waved her hand. “Way, way in the back.”

  His gaze dipped to her mouth. “Will you wear it for me sometime?”

  She plopped back onto her back as the warm night air blew over her. “Not the point of this story, Evan.”

  He traced a path down her arm. “And what’s the point?”

  She looked at him. “You were great with those kids. Teaching them. Coaching them.”

  He had been, and she’d watched, enraptured, as they’d crowded around him, eager to listen to every word he spoke.

  His expression clouded and he shrugged. “I don’t know if I can.”

  “All I’m trying to say is that coaching is an option, one you’d be good at.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  “Good.” He wasn’t ready, but at least she’d planted the seed. It was enough, and she wanted to return to the light mood. “So now you know, and if you ever mention this again there will be serious consequences.”

  “Yes, Miss Watkins.” He grinned at her and scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “Since I can tell you hated telling me this very blackmail-worthy story, I think it’s only fair I reciprocate.”

  The hairs on the back of her neck tingled, and she looked at him, brow raised. “Yes?”

  “You’re not going to be happy.”

  She’d have worried, but his expression was too filled with amusement. “I’m listening.”

  He took her hand. “Do you remember when we all spent that weekend at Maddie’s and you were dating that accountant?”

  “Yes,” she said very slowly. Bill was a lovely man whom she’d wanted to love but couldn’t. She narrowed her eyes. “You brought some Calvin Klein model.”

  He nodded. “That’s the weekend. We all stayed over Saturday night.”

  “I remember.”

  He shrugged. “I fed him double shots of vodka all night.”