The Best Laid Plans

by Lauren Gallagher

  “Okay, hon.” She patted my arm. “See you next week?”

  “Same time, as always.” I smirked. “Have fun with the banshees.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Gee, thanks.”

  I laughed. “If you need a break, holler.”

  “I might just do that. Talk to you later, hon.”

  “Later!”

  I went back inside, stripped off my jogging clothes and jumped in the shower. When I got out, as I was drying off, my gaze flicked to the birth control pack I kept on the counter, and I froze.

  I was supposed to call in today and refill that prescription so I could pick it up on my way home tomorrow.

  Continuing to dry off, I eyed the pack. Did I make the call? Did I go ahead and stop taking them?

  The guys and I hadn’t made a firm decision yet. Shahid was still on the fence. Gabe was still uneasy. But the sooner I stopped taking the pills, the faster things might happen if the guys decided to do this. The doctor had told me ages ago that it would probably take a month or so for my fertility to return once I stopped. Or I could miss one pill, have sex with Gabe, and get pregnant right away. There was no telling since every woman was different.

  So I could get a head start on that now and save us some time, and if they decided not to do it, I’d just go back on it again. Easy.

  There was one thing I didn’t want to get a head start on, though. The part I was dreading was the end of the month. My primary reason for being on the pill had nothing to do with contraception—it was those debilitating periods that made me wish for sweet death every thirtyish days.

  I didn’t want to put a deadline on this, and Gabe and Shahid definitely didn’t need any more stress, but admittedly, I wondered how many months I could deal with that kind of pain. Granted, it was only a few days out of the month, but it was fucking miserable. Not that labor would be a picnic, but that happened once for like twenty-four hours, not five days out of every month (almost) like clockwork.

  Maybe it wouldn’t take very long. Most of the women in my family were, as my mother called them, hyper-fertile. They’d make prolonged eye contact with a man and get pregnant. It wasn’t for nothing that my nonreligious family gave Gabe’s Catholic clan a run for their money—my parents had five kids, my sisters each had four, and my mother was the eldest of six.

  Well, we’d see how it went.

  But for now, I didn’t make the call for a refill.

  Chapter Five

  Shahid

  “Shahid?”

  I looked up from an e-mail to see Lynette, one of the other nurses, coming in from the waiting area. “Hmm?”

  She gestured over her shoulder. “Your hubby’s here.”

  “Oh.” I smiled. “Great. Just need to finish this—”

  “You know the rules, hon.” She eyed me. “Go have dinner with him while you can. Or else you won’t be able to.”

  “I know, but…” I glared at the e-mail, which was to one of the administrators on high who liked to throw a tantrum if she didn’t receive prompt responses.

  Eh. She could wait.

  I saved the e-mail, logged out of my profile and hurried out to the waiting area.

  There was no one else out here except Gabe, the triage nurses and a young couple who were waiting for some paperwork. Otherwise, the place was deserted.

  Gabe stood, put his hand on my waist and kissed me lightly. Holding up a bag of Tupperware containers, he asked, “You have time to grab dinner?”

  “We’ll find out, won’t we?”

  He glanced around the empty waiting area but didn’t say anything. He knew better than to comment on how little activity there was in the ER right then. No one dared use the Q-word, or else seventeen ambulances and a MedEvac would instantly show up while a steady stream of walk-ins materialized and demanded priority.

  I double-checked I had my phone, and we migrated to the cafeteria down the hall.

  “So,” I said as we sat across from each other at a table. “What’d you bring?”

  “Ham with a side of bacon. Obviously.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I wouldn’t put that past you.”

  “I know you wouldn’t.” He flashed me a toothy grin and then pulled the containers out. “Just some pasta left over from last night.”

  My mouth immediately started watering. “Oh, carbs. Gimme.”

  He laughed as he handed one to me. He’d brought them in an insulated container, so they were still warm too—no sense wasting time at the microwave when I could be summoned back to work at any second.

  Neither of us said much while we ate. That wasn’t unusual when he met me at work. He knew as well as I did that I probably hadn’t seen food since breakfast, and he was forever concerned about how much I was—or wasn’t—eating during my rotations. And it didn’t hurt that Gabe was a wonderful cook, and I was starving, so of course, the food was utterly delicious.

  Tonight, though, the silence was conspicuous in between the sounds of forks scraping bowls and soda cans clinking on the table. It had been like this ever since Kendra had come over the other night—not the silence that followed an unresolved argument, but that contemplative quiet that came when we were trying to make a major decision.

  We’d all agreed to sleep on it, which we had. Or, well, tried to. Gabe had tossed and turned the last couple of nights. I’d stared at the ceiling a few times, though I had trained myself a long time ago to sleep no matter what. I couldn’t afford to be that tired at work.

  When I was awake, it was always lurking in the back of my mind. During every moment of downtime, my brain went right back to it. No matter what, it wasn’t far from my thoughts.

  I took a deep swallow of soda and glanced at the clock to make sure I still had—barring a sudden influx of patients—time. “So, about this thing with Kendra.”

  Gabe nodded. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot.”

  “Me too.”

  Our eyes met.

  And?

  You tell me.

  I busied myself putting lids on our empty salad dishes and slipping them back into the bag. “I don’t think there are any alternatives left at this point. We’ve exhausted every—”

  “That’s not really the biggest issue, though.” Gabe absently played with the tab on his soda can. “The issue is whether you’re okay with me sleeping with Kendra.”

  I glanced around, certain his soft voice had carried to every corner of the crowded cafeteria, but no one gave us a second look. Facing him again, I said, “The more I think about it, the more I’m okay with it.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “Really?”

  I blew out a breath. “I mean, what choice do we have?”

  “Shahid.” He shook his head. “If you’re not okay with it, say so.” He put his hand over the top of mine. “If we can’t have a child another way, then maybe you’re right and it wasn’t meant to be. I don’t want you to resent me if you’re really not comfortable with me and Kendra.”

  I gnawed the inside of my cheek for a moment. “I guess I feel like I should be uncomfortable with it. But I’m really not.”

  “You’re not uncomfortable with the idea of me having sex with a woman?”

  Fighting the urge to squirm, I shrugged. “Not as much as I should be, if that makes sense. But, I mean, maybe she’s right about having you two spend a night together using protection. So we can all see how we feel about it.”

  Our eyes locked.

  Yeah, we both knew what I really meant—we needed to see how I felt about it. I didn’t doubt for a second that Gabe was devoted to me and to our marriage, and that he wouldn’t dream of going through with this if I said no, but I was the one with the issues and hang-ups. We’d fought about those enough, he knew exactly how I felt about sharing a man with a woman.

  But this wasn’t what we’d argued about back the
n. This wasn’t a woman turning his head and being something I couldn’t. This was a trusted friend who was willing to carry the child we couldn’t have any other way.

  I shifted my gaze to the last few bites of pasta in front of me and chased a piece around the bowl with my fork. “I know we’re putting the cart before the horse here, but hypothetically, if we do this, at what point do we tell our families about it?”

  “Probably when the kid starts preschool.”

  Our eyes met, and we both laughed.

  Halfheartedly spearing a piece of tomato, I said, “Seriously, though. They say women usually wait until the end of the first trimester to announce they’re pregnant. In this case, I don’t think we should tell our families until after the baby’s born.”

  Gabe nodded. “Yeah. Good idea. Just in case…”

  Neither of us finished the sentence. Given how our adoption attempts had gone, I didn’t want to think about the ways this could go wrong. I kept those in the part of my brain where I stored all the other things I’d seen at my job that Gabe didn’t need to know about.

  “Anyway.” I cleared my throat. “I think I’m voting yes on this. On moving forward with Kendra.”

  He reached across the table and took my hand. “If you’re not okay with this, just say so. We can—”

  “I am.” I laced my fingers between his. “I trust you. And her. And to be honest, I’m not sure how else we’re going to be able to do this.”

  “But I don’t want you compromising on this if you’re really opposed to it.” He held my gaze. “Is this something that’s going to be an issue with your beliefs?”

  “That’s what I’ve been worried about.” I searched for the words. “You remember how my parents weren’t too sure about us dating until they found out that it was your interest in Islam that caused us to meet in the first place?”

  Gabe nodded.

  “I think this is kind of like that. Things happening for a reason. I mean, what are the odds of us having a female friend who we can trust and who’s willing to go through with this? And yes, it means being sexually involved with her, but for reasons that are…”

  “The end justifies the means, basically.”

  “Yeah.” I clasped his hand in both of mine. “I want us to have a family. We’re never going to find another woman like Kendra who’s willing to go through all this so we can, and I don’t think there’s another woman on the planet I’d even consider it with.”

  “I agree.” He absently dragged a noodle through the sauce with his fork. “Well, why don’t we go with what Kendra suggested? She and I can spend a night together, but we’ll use condoms for the time being. So we’re only going through the motions. Seeing how we can all handle the sexual aspect of it before we even start thinking about a pregnancy.”

  I pursed my lips. It was an odd thing to consider—my husband having sex with a woman and actively preventing a pregnancy—but at the same time, it made sense. Because what if they slept together, and it caused a problem, and then in the middle of the awkwardness, she found out she was pregnant?

  Gabe touched my arm. “You don’t have to make a decision right now.”

  “Actually.” I moistened my lips. “It’s probably a good idea. I mean, the only hang-up I have is with the sex. If I can get over that, I have zero problem with her carrying our baby.”

  He smiled. “Okay. And we’ll do this at your speed. I want you to be as comfortable with it as we are.”

  “Thank you.” I put my hand over his. “Let’s try the test run like she suggested. After that…”

  “We’ll play it by ear?”

  I nodded.

  “Okay. I’ll, um, talk to her at work tomorrow.” He laughed softly. “Then I guess it’s showtime. Or something.”

  I chuckled. “Have fun.”

  He shook his head. “This is kind of weird.”

  “Tell me about it. But to be serious, I’m in. I want us to have a family. So…”

  “Go forth and multiply?”

  We both burst out laughing, and I squeezed his hand. “Yeah. Something like that.”

  We finished what was left of our drinks and food, and I helped him gather up the remaining dishes to take home. On the way out of the cafeteria, neither of us said anything until we stopped by the entrance to the ER.

  There, he cupped my face and kissed me softly. “I’ll talk to Kendra. But say the word if you change your mind.”

  I nodded. “I will.”

  “I mean it. Even if she and I are right in the middle of it, we’ll stop if you say the word. I promise.”

  “I know.”

  He smiled. “I should go. Let you get back to work.”

  “Yeah. I’ll see you whenever we’re both home at the same time.”

  Gabe laughed. “Ships passing in the night, as always.”

  “Only for a few more days.”

  I kissed him once more, and he headed out while I went back to finish my shift.

  Our conversation rattled around in my head. So that was that. I’d given them my blessing. We were doing this. Or, well, they were doing this.

  And I was more okay with this than I thought I’d be. After all, it had taken me a few years to even adjust to the idea of being with a bisexual man. But we’d been monogamous and he’d been faithful, never complaining that he couldn’t have sex with a woman. And this situation was different. I had no doubt he’d enjoy it, but there was a purpose to it beyond getting his rocks off.

  Considering how our other attempts at becoming parents had panned out, this was quite possibly our last option. If anything, the prospect of the two of them sleeping together excited me. Not sexually, but in the sense that we finally had some hope. We’d found a direction without bureaucratic red tape, with a woman who was completely okay with both my religion and Gabe’s, and all we had to do was let biology do its thing, and we’d finally have the child we’d been missing all these years.

  There had to be a reason this was all playing out the way it was, and my own insecurities didn’t seem like a reason to veto it.

  I was somewhat at peace with it, somewhat uncertain, but I had faith in both Allah and Gabe. And Kendra, for that matter.

  We’d see how it went.

  Chapter Six

  Gabe

  Once we had Shahid’s blessing, it didn’t take long. A hushed conversation in the back room between classes, a few exchanged grins in the hallway, and we were meeting after cross-country practice.

  Going over to Kendra’s house for the express purpose of having sex was…weird. As if we’d planned it. Made an appointment.

  Gabe, this is Nancy at Kendra’s office calling to remind you of your six-thirty appointment for coitus.

  Then again, we weren’t doing this for fun. If it felt a little scheduled and clinical, so be it. The purpose was a baby. Or, well, seeing if we could even stand each other in bed first, and if Shahid could cope with us being in bed, and then a baby. A test drive. Not a “dry run.”

  So it wasn’t like we were supposed to wine, dine and seduce each other. Still, it was strange to play it out in my head. How did something like this work, anyway? Did she greet me at the door, offer me coffee, talk about the weather, and then we both march up to her bedroom and get to work? Would she be waiting for me in bed, wearing nothing but lace and candlelight?

  I laughed at my own thought. Yeah, right. This wasn’t supposed to be romantic. Hot, maybe. But not like that. On the other hand, it might be a more fitting way to kick this off than me showing up at her door with a pack of condoms.

  So, I could hear myself awkwardly saying, I guess we have sex now.

  Chuckling, I rolled my eyes and tried not to think about how damp my palms were against the wheel. God, I hoped she had a better handle on this than I did. I’d still felt like an idiot teenager when I’d stopped to pick up cond
oms on the way here. I hadn’t bought condoms in…eight, nine years? I couldn’t even remember how long it had been since Shahid and I had stopped using them. Long enough that I was actually blushing a little when I bought them. Mostly because I was mortified at the thought of one of my students happening by while I was buying condoms and nothing else, but still—I was thirty-three years old, for God’s sake.

  Yes, Mr. Pharmacist, I’m about to go have sex.

  And not with the person who put this ring on my finger.

  But you don’t need to know that.

  Just give me the change already.

  I pulled into Kendra’s driveway and parked beside her car.

  As I got out, I paused. It never ceased to amaze me how quiet it was out here. Kendra had a beautiful place in one of the slightly more remote neighborhoods, on the very edge of suburbia before it was all fields and horse pastures. The place wasn’t enormous, but it was certainly more than one would expect for a single person living on a teacher’s salary. She’d been fortunate—the house had gone into foreclosure several years ago, and she and her ex-husband had snagged it for a song. She’d narrowly kept it during the divorce too. Her attorney had put the fear of God into him, and the cheating bastard had backed down. Smart move, especially since Shahid and I had already come up with a list of places to hide the body.

  I walked up to her porch and rang the doorbell.

  When she opened the door, she smiled. “Welcome to Kendra’s House of Perversion. Come on in.”

  I laughed as I followed her in. “You really should put that on a sign outside.”

  “Uh-huh. Just because my homeowner’s association isn’t as strict as yours doesn’t mean I can get away with stuff like that.”

  “You’re no fun.”

  “Right.” She turned the dead bolt and shot me a playful glare. “I’m no fun after I just invited you into my house of perversion.”

  “Fair point.”

  We laughed, and as it faded, we held each other’s gazes, and the awkwardness set in fast.

  “So, um.” She cleared her throat. “In case we need it, I’ve got plenty of wine.”