Falling for Jordan

by Liz Durano

  “Telling your family about your... your situation,” I reply. “How’d they take it.”

  “I haven’t told them yet. I told them I’d talk to them about the latest development this weekend,” he says. “What about you? What did you tell your family?”

  Suddenly I regret asking Jordan the question, not when mine is lie. “I told everyone I had Piper through a sperm donor.”

  “A what?”

  “A sperm donor,” I whisper. “I told everyone I went to a sperm bank and had her via a sperm donor.”

  “Why are you whispering?”

  “My parents are spending the night and I don’t want them to hear me. They’re in the living room,” I reply. “That way, I get to do errands tomorrow.”

  There’s a pause on the other line. “I need to know more about your sperm donor story, but first, what kind of errands are you talking about?”

  “The usual. Pick up diapers, wet wipes… that kind of thing.” I actually have a massage and a facial scheduled in the morning but Jordan doesn’t have to know that.

  “Why don’t I pick up the diapers and wet wipes for you? Costco is a few blocks from my house and I’ll just need the size and the brand you need and I can drop them off sometime this weekend. Maybe then we can talk about this sperm donor thing,” he says, his voice softening as he continues. “Because you do realize that story’s going to be blown to bits the moment the results say I’m her father, right?”

  “Only if someone says something. I’d like to have some control over my decision to do what I did,” I say defensively before I remember Rachel and the expression on her face this morning. Does your mother know? She had asked that question just before the elevator doors closed. Would Rachel really tell anyone? If she works for a medical office, she should know all about HIPAA and patient privacy. We signed those forms right there. “Look, why don’t we wait until we received confirmation next week before we do anything like this? I’m perfectly fine getting the diapers and wet wipes myself.”

  I hear him exhale. “If you insist, but you and I both know we don't need any confirmation, Addy. Either that or there’s a clone of me walking around New York and I don’t know it,” he says. “Here, check this out.”

  A few seconds later, my phone buzzes and a picture appears on the screen. My breath hitches in my throat. Except for her heart-shaped mouth, Piper looks just like him in the old photo he sends me. “Wow, the resemblance is uncanny. It’s like you put a 70’s filter on it or something.”

  “And there you go,” he says, chuckling. “So what will it be? Want me to take care of the diapers and wet wipes and you get some time off for yourself?”

  As he speaks, I can't help but smile. I also can't help but feel a familiar tingle settling deep in my belly—and between my legs. Maybe it’s not too late to start doing my Kegel exercises again... just in case.

  Chapter Six

  By the time the doorbell rings at eleven on Sunday morning, I'm in a panic. Why do I feel like I'm going on a date when it's just Jordan dropping off diapers and wet wipes? Just how romantic is that?

  Still, I can't help it. Our phone conversation on Friday night changed things. I don't know about him but it definitely did for me. Is it because he's got this amazing voice that just oozes sex and that's all I've been able to think of since we hung up two nights ago? It doesn't hurt that he's gorgeous, with his cropped red hair and green eyes and those muscles that I can't stop imagining myself touching, bringing back memories of our night together when I literally drooled the moment he dropped his pants. Or is it because even though I have this tiny human whom I love more than anyone in the world, I’ve never felt so lonely?

  That last question brings all thoughts of sex to a grinding halt. Now, wait a minute, Dr. Addison Rowe. Just because you're lonely doesn't mean you're going to climb the first man who walks through that door like a tree!

  I also can't help but hear my mother's voice inside my head telling me she hopes I find someone who's my equal. No, and it wasn’t just inside my head. It was a whole conversation over breakfast yesterday.

  You're too smart for just anyone, Deedee. You need a doctor. Or an accountant, like Kevin, she'd told me yesterday. Did you know that your dad and I ran into him at the supermarket last week and he was asking about you? I think he misses you.

  Mom, please don't encourage him. It's been two years since we were together and it's time to let those things go. He's probably already married.

  He's a certified public accountant, Dee. A CPA, Mom had persisted. And he just earned some new accreditation. Something about being an enrolled agent. He can defend your tax return if you get audited.

  She's not getting audited, Ma, and he's not her accountant, Dad had muttered under his breath although I doubt Mom heard him. Sometimes I wonder if Mom doesn't believe she married her equal in him since he was a transit bus driver when they first met.

  When the doorbell chimes again, it yanks me back to the present and I tell myself to stop overthinking things and just open the damn door. Six foot two of hard muscle carrying a box of diapers in one hand and wet wipes on the other stands in the doorway and I take a step back to make room for him and admire the view. Jordan is wearing a tight t-shirt that does nothing to hide the contours of his chest and his flat belly. The jeans that hug his hips and thighs don't help to hide anything either and I have to force myself to let my gaze move back up to his face. Thank heaven for warehouse stores, I now have enough diapers to last me until Piper turns one year old… or at the rate she’s going, fifteen-weeks old. She does poop a lot.

  “I hope you didn't take the subway carrying those.”

  “Heck no. I drove,” Jordan says, laughing as he sets the boxes on the floor next to my shoes. “Where's Piper?”

  “She's napping in the nursery,” I reply. “Would you like something to eat? Drink? Coffee maybe?” I'm rambling and I can't help it. I'm flustered by his presence, and it's like I'm back in high school again and the school quarterback is checking me out—something the school quarterback never did.

  “Sure, that would be nice,” he says, following me to the kitchen where I make sure the Keurig coffee maker is ready to go.

  “House blend okay? I've got all these flavors ready to go. My dad loves them,” I tell him as I slide a tray of flavored coffee pods to choose from.

  “House blend is perfect.” He picks out one of the flavor pods and hands it to me. As his hand overshoots its mark, our fingers brush against each other. I draw my breath, our eyes meeting for a brief moment. Then I look away, feeling my cheeks turn warm.

  As the water boils, I take a mug from the cupboard and set it under the dispenser. “I know we talked about this the other night, but how much do I owe you?”

  “Nothing. We already discussed this, Addy. I’m her father.”

  “Until we get the results, Jordan, I can’t let you pay for anything.”

  He sighs. “Tell me one reason why I shouldn’t have believed you when you told me Piper was mine the first time.”

  I shrug. “Human nature.”

  “And what exactly is human nature?”

  “Humans doubt.”

  “Depending on the situation, yes. But you saw the baby picture I sent you and there’s no doubt about it,” he says. “I’m also choosing to trust you.”

  “And what if you’re wrong?”

  “Then I’m wrong, and you made a mistake,” he says. “I don’t know why it is, but I also trust you, Addy. Can you accept that?”

  I stare at his green-hazel eyes, wondering how he could trust a stranger so easily. Because I am a stranger even if we have a baby in common now. Had I bared more than my clothes the night we met? The coffee maker hisses, putting an end to my questions.

  “I’ll accept it,” I say slowly. “I’m just not used to this, that’s all. I don’t know how to go about things between us. How we’re supposed to be right now.”

  “Just be yourself,” he says. “Be like that woman I met that night
, the one who convinced me to sing Sonny and Cher’s I Got You Babe even when I kept insisting that I can’t sing.”

  I laugh. “And you were right. You can’t sing, but you tried.”

  “And you can. You’re a great singer. A closet Karaoke singer.”

  I press my index finger in front of my lips. “Don’t tell anyone.”

  The coffee finishes brewing and I hand him the cup. “So why did you tell everyone that you had Piper via a sperm donor?”

  “Because saying I had a one-night stand with some guy I couldn’t get a hold of didn’t sound as good. I’m also a doctor and believe it or not but the medical community can be very critical and patients themselves expect some decorum from doctors they trust. I have a reputation to protect.”

  “And how did that admission go?”

  I shrug. “It went well. Except for nosy questions about the specifics like where and when and how from my mom and her friends, I basically told everyone it was simply a private decision and that was all I was going to say.”

  He frowns. “Would it have affected your job?”

  “I don’t know, to be honest. But we’d just gotten through one scandal with my colleague, Dr. James. She was going through a really bad divorce with the Director of Transplant Surgery and then she ended up with a guy thirteen years her junior halfway across the country,” I say. “I mean, everyone couldn’t stop talking about her and questioning her professional abilities based on what they considered poor personal choices.”

  “What’s wrong with ending up with a younger man? How on earth can being with a younger man affect your medical decisions?” Jordan asks. “I don’t see that happening with older male doctors who end up with younger women. I don’t think anyone would question their decisions.”

  “And there you have it,” I exclaim. “But that doesn’t mean I wanted to be next in line the moment they’d learn I got pregnant from a one-night stand.”

  Jordan takes a sip of the coffee. “Just like it was no one’s business but your colleague’s what she chooses to do in her spare time, it’s the same with you. It shouldn’t matter.”

  “I know, but it didn’t seem like that then and I panicked. So that’s why I came up with that story.”

  “And what do you plan to tell them the moment the results come in?” he asks. “Are you going to keep me hidden away or am I going to fit some narrative you’ve yet to make up? Are you going to claim that you searched for me and then found me? Am I supposed to play along?”

  I swallow, my throat suddenly feeling dry. “I haven’t thought that far ahead.” It’s a lie, of course. I have thought ahead and I had planned on convincing him to go with the story of being a sperm donor. It’s semantics, isn’t it? He still donated sperm in the form of a one-night stand instead of ejaculating in a cup.

  “I’m not going to lie, Addy,” he says. “I’m telling my parents I had a one-night stand, and that’s that. It will make things between us a lot simpler if we start this honestly.”

  “Okay.” I turn away, pretending to be busy as I rearrange the coffee pods. I can only imagine how Ma will take the news when I tell her. Her perfect daughter turning out to be not so perfect.

  Jordan sets his coffee cup down and stands in front of me. “It doesn’t matter what people will think, Addy. What matters is making ‘us’ work for Piper’s sake.”

  “And what exactly is ‘us,’ Jordan? We had a one-night stand. That’s all we have. We have no history at all.”

  “We have this. The present.”

  I take a deep breath. Of course, he has to be right. Why am I so fixated on the past when the present looks so good? Is it because I acted like a wild woman that night, a complete opposite from the one standing in front of him right now as if chastened by the consequences of her actions that came back to bite her in the ass?

  Pretty much.

  “You’re too hard on yourself, Addy,” Jordan says softly. “People make mistakes but that doesn’t mean those mistakes have to define them. That one night we spent together doesn’t have to be all we are. We can evolve from that moment, grow from it… together.”

  As Jordan draws closer, I catch the scent of his cologne. It reminds me of soft earth and early morning dawn, but mostly of the hours we spent together in his apartment buried under the covers, the same moment that continues to define us inside my head until new moments replace it. It brings back memories of giggling uncontrollably when he went down on me—the first time anyone had done so—and I asked out loud where he'd been all my life. Forest Hills, he'd answered and we laughed until his mouth found that spot again and I closed my eyes and sighed blissfully. Other memories come then, of the way he interlaced his fingers with mine as he made love to me, watching me come undone before him.

  “Are you okay?”

  “What?” Suddenly I pull away from Jordan, the spell of soft earth and dawn, of mind-numbing sex and orgasms broken.

  “Yeah, I’m fine. Why do you ask?”

  He smiles. “I thought I lost you there for a second. You seemed miles away.”

  I blush. “Maybe I just need sleep. New mothers always lack sleep. But I’m fine. Really, I am.”

  “Are you sure?” His gaze shifts from my eyes down to my mouth as I lick my lips.

  “Actually I’m not really sure.”

  “What aren’t you sure about?” He asks, his gaze still on my lips. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  You can kiss me, for starters, I almost say out loud. But I don’t, my thoughts on what I’m going to tell everyone the moment the results come in that he’s Piper’s father, that it wasn’t some random sperm donor I’d picked out on a whim. But then, Jordan did say it’s no one’s business what we do.

  Just like it’s no one’s business when he lowers his head to kiss me and all rational thought flies out the window.

  Chapter Seven

  Addison’s lips taste of vanilla with a hint of oranges. She smells damn good, too, and as I pull her closer to me, she feels perfect in all the right places. Her hair, her breasts, her ass. I know she admired me when I walked in carrying the diapers and wet wipes, but I’ve also been watching her. She’s beautiful without makeup, with light freckles along the bridge of her nose, and I can’t get enough of her big hazel eyes.

  I don’t understand why she had to lie, but then, I’m no doctor. I don’t have a reputation to protect. I’m just a contractor, and for a year, I was a carpenter, a builder, and then a tourist exploring the world. And all that time, I had no idea what she’d been going through on her own carrying my baby. Of course, she’s going to be anxious. She’s had to do everything herself—alone.

  I pull away and study her face. Her lips are slightly open and god, I want to kiss them again. But I also want to take this slow. I want us to start over, and not rush into things. I want to get to know her—the real Addison Rowe. While there was nothing wrong with the woman I met that night at Polly’s Bar, there’s a part of her now that’s vulnerable and it’s heartbreakingly beautiful.

  “Is something wrong?” Addison asks, frowning.

  “Nothing. Just admiring the view,” I reply as she blushes and looks away.

  Her phone rings from somewhere in the apartment and she disengages herself from my arms. “I need to get that,” she says and heads to the living room.

  As she starts speaking to whoever is on the other line, I take a sip of the coffee but set it back down on the counter. I'm not thirsty. I never was. I'd only said yes to her offer because I didn't want to leave just yet. The kiss hadn't been intentional. It just happened. I'd like to think that there's something between us that goes beyond that one-night stand. I thought I felt it when we talked over the phone but that could also have been my dick talking.

  I pour the contents down the sink, pausing when I notice that it’s clogged with two inches of water. I rinse the cup, taking my time to observe how fast the water drains down the strainer basket—or not. “You’ve got a clogged drain.”

  “
I know. I’m talking to a plumber right now,” she says from the living room.

  I turn off the water and open the cabinet doors under the sink. Addison lives in a pre-war building in the West Village and like her apartment’s hardwood floors and high ceilings still with their original plaster crown moldings, such places usually come with old pipes—and old problems. Her apartment looks almost original, with no sign of any new additions beyond a seventies-era countertop.

  Addison reenters the kitchen to study the wall calendar next to her refrigerator. I can hear a man’s voice on the other end of the line. “What do you mean you can’t tell me a time frame? I can’t wait for someone all day.”

  “Hang up,” I say, the words leaving my lips before I can think twice. It’s a Sunday which means even if the plumber shows up, she’ll pay extra for the weekend job.

  Addison looks at me quizzically. “Why?”

  “Because I’m going to fix your sink for you.”

  “I can’t do that. You just paid for diapers.”

  “So? I’m a contractor’s son, Addy. I grew up fixing things,” I say. She’s stubborn as hell and I like it.

  “Let me call you back,” she says and ends the call. “You’ve got tools? Like, right now?”

  “I do, and I know my way around clogged drains. Even garbage disposals, if that’s the problem.” I walk toward the sink and she follows behind me.

  “My mother never uses my dishwasher. She insists she can do a better job so she washes every dish by hand,” she says. “I usually pour drain cleaner and it works like a charm but not this time.”

  “Why don’t you let me check it out? If I can’t do it, then you can call the plumber. Deal?”

  “Okay, but if you think it needs to be done by a professional, you be sure to let me know, okay?”

  “I am the professional.” I'm also not doing surgery, I almost add as she chuckles. “I just have to get the tools from the truck and I'll be right back up.”

  “Okay,” she says and we both step out of the kitchen. As she heads straight to the nursery, I step out of the front door and make my way down to the truck I parked three blocks away. I've got my toolbox in one of the flatbed bins and while I don't make it a habit of carrying a plumbing snake, Dad had ended up using one when our tenant complained of a clogged bathtub drain just before I got back from my trip. I'd left Dad my truck while I was away, giving him two trucks to use for work.