“What? Not sleep your way to the top?” I joked, tapping my fork with his in a frisky way.
“The new author…she’s contemporary women’s fiction—”
“Chick lit, yeah,” I cut in.
“That doesn’t rub you the wrong way? As a woman? An empowered, career woman? ‘Chick lit’ doesn’t bother you?”
I laughed. “Why should it? It’s not any different than references to chick flicks, and I don’t see a problem with that. People whine that it’s all anti-feminist and derogatory. I don’t buy it. Let’s call it what it is: literature that chicks…dig.”
He smiled, his bright blue eyes twinkling playfully. “All right…chick lit, then.”
“We can be high-powered, women’s lib, and corporate wonder women and all that and still enjoy a good book filled with all-things-female,” I added. “But we’re off topic. So this new author is a chick lit author and…?”
“And I’m no chick lit man,” he said, resuming eating his lunch. “I appreciate all genres and all forms of cover art, but I don’t see myself as being the best PM for an author of that genre. And I don’t think it’d be in the firm’s best interest and longevity to hire on to the project someone who doesn’t have their heart in it…someone who can’t give their all and their best. That’s what the firm needs. I don’t think putting me in charge of making the calls for a pink book cover with stilettos and champagne and hearts is the best move. For anyone.”
“Not all chick lit covers are covered in pink and hearts.”
He gave me a cunning look, letting me know that he’d won this case; and I commended him for his stance. I liked the way Bobby thought about the firm’s best interest, not only his own. It was kind of sexy, yet so not what I needed to add to my Bobby Holman fantasies. Not to mention, it undeniably made Janet’s take on the PM position clear for what it was: a selfish move with only herself in mind. No care for the firm or those involved in the project. Not even the author.
Bobby and I talked briefly about Janet and her outlook on the position. We’d gotten very comfortable in our new relationship; Bobby and I knew that what we shared with each other about Janet and other colleagues stayed between us. He agreed that Janet was a selfish bitch with an ego the size of Texas, but he assured me I had nothing to worry about because “what goes around comes around; Robin will come out on top and Janet will be another bottom feeder.”
“She’ll move on at some point, anyhow,” Bobby said, finishing his salad. “She’ll get tired of us tiny people and ship on out.”
I nodded in agreement.
Tell me about it. It can’t happen soon enough.
Only that morning Janet had made some snide remark about how my feet were starting to push out like puff pastries in my ballet flats. I kindly told her that that was an unavoidable side effect of pregnancy. And that I didn’t mind, because I was doing something bigger than myself—and my feet. I was going to have a baby! Her response was only a cold, “I know. My sister’s feet look like sausages.”
“Shall we get a move on?” I asked Bobby. “Get back to work so we can get out of here on time? Nothing I hate more than staying late on a Friday.”
Bobby looked a little discombobulated. Was the food not settling well with him? Had I said something wrong?
“Robin,” he said, shifting in his seat.
“Yes?”
“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”
“What is it, Bobby?” I asked, nervously playing with my straw wrapper.
“Will you have dinner with me?”
“Uh…” His question came out of nowhere.
“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” He was so fast to respond to my one utterance of a light sound.
“No, I, uh…yes. I mean, yes. Yes I’ll have dinner with you.”
“You sure?” he asked.
“Of course. I, uh…”
Was this a date? As in a date-date? Or was this another “business lunch” kind of thing?
I wanted to be clear before I put on my best perfume and (secretly) got my blonde touched up. Before I blew things way out of proportion and ended up looking like a lovesick fool.
“Like, dinner instead of lunch?” I asked.
He smiled. “Dinner as in a date. A real date.”
I was speechless, and I don’t know why, since a large part of me assumed that’s what he meant when he suggested we go out for dinner, but still….I’d been dreaming of this kind of thing. Only in my wildest fantasies did Bobby Holman ask me out on a date. All right, my wildest fantasies included some Tarzan loincloth thing for him and some I’m-stranded-and-helpless Jane thing going on with me. This was reality, though, and in reality Bobby didn’t ask out Robin.
Except he did. For a date! For a dinner date!
Seeing how I hadn’t responded, he continued. “I don’t want to ruin anything we have going on between us, Robin. I’m really enjoying getting to know you and getting to talk with you. I really like…being around you.” He fumbled with his napkin. “I can’t hide my feelings anymore, though. I’ve been feeling some crazy, amazing things for you. All this time we’ve been going out for coffees or lunches or all those little breaks together in the break room…I know it all seems so fast. But, er, well…” He continued to fumble with his napkin, and I couldn’t help but grin. He looked adorable all nervous and frazzled. “Well, I’ve been attracted to you for a while,” he said. “And when I’m around you I’m always happy. I feel good. I feel like myself. Completely like myself. I know it might sound absurd, all so fa—”
“Bobby,” I said. He pulled the crumpled napkin into his lap and looked into my eyes. “I thought I was making our flirtation out to be something that it wasn’t. See…” I broke our gaze for a moment, suddenly nervous about the entire discussion. “See…I really like you.”
God, I sound like a teenager. Get it together, Robin.
I straightened up in my chair and looked back at Bobby. “I’ve enjoyed getting to know you, too, and if I can be completely straight up with you, I am elated that you want to go on a date with me. But, I can’t help but have some reservations—”
“It’s too fast, isn’t it?” Bobby said quickly. “Too fast, too soon. We may have worked together for years but we haven’t really known each other that lo—”
“No, no. Yeah, I mean, yes, it’s all happening really fast; that’s true. But that’s not it.” I stole Bobby’s napkin that he’d returned to the table, the edges threadbare from his nervous habit. “It’s just that…it’s…”
“What?” Bobby rested his hands softly on top of mine, and I decided to tell him exactly how I felt. I’d fantasized more than enough times about having a relationship with Bobby, but I’d be a liar if I didn’t admit to some misgivings about Bobby striking up a relationship with a soon-to-be-mom.
“I’m pregnant, Bobby.” I searched his facial expression for any sign of discomfort, or understanding, or even bewilderment. So far, nothing. “And right now my baby is my priority. Don’t get me wrong, I would absolutely love to go out with you. See where things take us. But, well…I’m in a very sensitive situation. It’s honestly not every day some amazing and attractive and just…well…unbelievable man wants to date me. But a pregnant me? You understand if I’m a little, well, shaky about it all? No…” I corrected. “No, that’s not the right word.” I removed my hands from under Bobby’s and rubbed at my forehead.
What am I trying to say?
Bobby leaned in over the table and said in a low voice, “Robin, I completely understand that you’re in a difficult position right now. I can respect that. And if you’re not ready to date—”
“I want to take things really slow.” My response was sudden. It was honest. I couldn’t let myself get hurt. I couldn’t put myself or my baby in a tough spot.
“Slow it is, then. Absolutely.”
“You really want to go out with a pregnant woman? You do realize that it’s not just me you’re dating? Wait, that sou
nds kind of strange.” I twisted my mouth for a second, then said, “You know what I mean? With me comes a baby. And even, and God forbid, the baby’s father. I come with…well I’m more than just a single woman you work with.”
Bobby smiled, then said, “I like you just the way you are, Robin. I liked you before I knew you were pregnant. And, well, your daughter is a part of you now.”
I sighed in relief. I figured Bobby still wanted to date me even though I was pregnant; obviously he was asking a pregnant me out. Hearing it from his own mouth, though, was comforting.
“I still want to take you out on a real date, Robin. Get to know you more beyond the usual office lunch break. And I have no reservations about dating a beautiful and brilliant woman who is going to have a baby. Now come on. Let’s finish work up. We’ve got a date tomorrow night. Sound all right?”
“Sounds perfect.”
I sucked in a deep breath of relief and excitement as Bobby and I sat there, looking into each other’s eyes. I wondered if the chips were falling in a way that meant we’d share a kiss. At that very moment? Perhaps tomorrow? I was nervous and excited and full of anticipation at the sheer thought of Bobby’s lips meeting mine. How romantic and sweeping the moment would be. And how romantic it was, in its own crazy sort of way, that Bobby wanted to take me, pregnant me, out on a date!
Oh! Such a thing from my fantasies! Was this really happening?
He pushed his chair back and stood up, and I followed suit. The anticipation of a kiss would have to keep stirring until tomorrow night, when maybe, just maybe, I’d get to share a beautiful kiss with the man of—quite clichéd but quite possibly true—my dreams.
***
The evening of our date, I was so nervous I couldn’t keep my hand from shaking long enough to apply my eyeliner properly.
“Lara, I need your help!” I called out.
Lara rushed to my side. She was all sweaty, wearing gym shorts and a ratty U Dub t-shirt she’d had for nearly a decade.
“Something wrong with the baby? You all right?” she huffed, arming away some sweat from her brow. She must have been getting some time in with the treadmill.
“No, nothing like that. I can’t put my darn eyeliner on, I’m so nervous. Can you help?”
Like a trooper, she applied the perfect thin black line all around, just how I liked it.
“I’m really happy for you, Robin,” she said.
“Aww, thanks. I can’t believe it’s actually happening. It seems like yesterday when I was bitching about this day never coming. And now…wow! Hey, do you think my new black dress will look fine?”
Last night after work, Lara and I dashed over to buy a new dress for my big date. It looked lovely in the dressing room, covering the extra two dozen or so pounds of me I’d put on since I became pregnant. Although I wasn’t so sure now, with only minutes before Bobby was to pick me up.
“Of course it’ll look fine. Better than fine!” She blew away any excess powder on my face. “And he’s going out with you, not your dress. I’m sure he couldn’t care less about what you’re wearing.”
I gave myself one last look-over in the mirror once I was ready. The gold heart pendant necklace that Lara lent me looked stunning with my solid black dress. And the dress itself really was both beautiful and comfortable. Probably my favorite maternity dress I owned, actually. It had t-shirt-like sleeves, and the neckline scooped down into a crescent-shape. Below the breast line it had a black ruche ribbon, giving way to an A-line skirt that fell right to the knees. The fabric was of high quality (for nearly two hundred big ones it ought to be), and it draped perfectly over my six-month pregnant tummy. I even managed to slip into a pair of my favorite statement-making ruby-red high heels. Special heels for a special occasion. I couldn’t last long in them with all of the extra baby weight and the water I was retaining (and since my feet were so swollen), but for a date with Bobby I’d make it work.
I don’t know why I doubted the dress. It was beautiful, and I thought I looked really nice in it. I wanted to look my best for Bobby without noticeably overdoing it, like I wasn’t trying too hard. I’ll admit, whenever I was around Bobby my self-esteem sort of got a boost. I felt beautiful, and more confident than usual. I felt, like he’d said at lunch the other day, really good around him. I felt like myself. And I was comfortable feeling like myself, and being simply Robin around him, even when six months pregnant.
Now I couldn’t blow it. This was a big step in our relationship. The chips were falling, and I wanted them to fall in my favor, naturally. One side of my brain reminded me to take things slow. To think of my little girl, of the big changes going on in life. The other side was shouting out vociferously, “Land the man!”
“You’re sure I look my best?” I asked Lara. I nervously picked at the hem of my dress. “Not over the top like I’m trying too hard, but I look…confident? Right? Comfy in my own shoes?”
“He won’t be able to resist you,” she said, looking at me fondly as I sat on the sofa, eagerly awaiting Bobby’s arrival. “Now try not to be nervous, Robin. Think of this as another fun and easy-going lunch with him. Remember: Let the chips fall where they may. And have a good time!”
When Bobby arrived and I saw him standing at the door, his auburn hair slightly slicked back with gel, a few stray locks freeing themselves and lying limply to one side, and his bright blue eyes, seeming to shine the moment he laid his eyes on me, I was positively smitten.
When he smiled and took my hand in his, telling me that I looked “exactly like an angel,” I knew I was falling in love.
So much for taking things slow.
Bobby had made reservations at one of the finest restaurants in Seattle, located in one of the ritzy hotels downtown. It was the place to dine for many of the city’s literati, well-to-do, and up-and-coming businessmen and artists. The price of the food nearly made me choke, but the taste was worth every heavy dollar. He insisted I order anything and everything I wanted from the menu, since we were both celebrating my stellar review at work (for a second time), and our first official date. Even though he made it clear that night that he considered most all of our lunches together dates. And the coffee runs, too.
“What?” I said, taking a sip of my sparkling water. “So those were all secret dates?”
“You know what I mean. No two co-workers go out together for lunch—just the two of them—that often. We definitely had some dates in there.” He gave me a wink. “This one’s only official because I finally worked up the nerve to ask you out, on a date, outside of work, for dinner. A real date.”
“Been wanting to ask me out for a while, have you?” I was enjoying our lighthearted and flirtatious banter—this time without the pretense of a strict business lunch.
“You have no idea. I don’t know if I should say this or not…”
I was madly curious; I urged him to share.
“Part of the reason I’d split up with Chrissy was because I’d been wanting to ask you out for a while. Things were already going sour with that relationship, but after you and I’d spent a little more time together…and I got to know you better…well…you charmed me, Robin.”
“I don’t want to be the cause of a breakup,” I said, hoping to God that wasn’t the case.
“No, no. That’s not what I meant. That’s why I wasn’t sure if I should say anything or not.” His voice was a tad hushed. “That’s not it at all. It’s only that you made me realize that sparks…that—that passion really can exist. I know that us dating is still very new. Obviously there are sparks.” He smiled softly. “Being with you feels so natural. So right. I enjoy being with you.”
“I enjoy being with you, too.”
“I’m twenty-nine years old.” He took a sip of wine. “I know what I want now. And that relationship wasn’t it.” He cupped my hand in his, his touch gentle, yet strong. “I’m really fond of you and I hope we can keep seeing each other.”
“The date’s not over yet, Bobby. You could run away scre
aming by the end of the night.” I infused some humor into the conversation.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he said in response to my poor attempt at a joke.
“I’m only saying that, well, I come with a lot of baggage, as you know.” I pointed to my stomach. I again reminded myself to listen to the rational side of my brain, arguing for moving slowly with Bobby, no matter how attracted to him I was, no matter how much I really did want a happily every after scenario. I told myself not to be cynical and expect all relationships to wind up in the gutter, however, but to still be reasonable and take things slowly, because I was living and planning for two now. My situation wasn’t that of a typical single, twenty-five-year-old woman. I’d had a rough year, and there was a lot going on. Bobby could be a welcome addition to my life, but we’d have to move slowly. That’s right, slowly. I couldn’t take any heartbreak, if it came to that. And that’s not being cynical. That’s only being prepared. Being realistic. And life’s a reality, not a fantasy, after all.
“I hope you understand,” I added.
“Robin, we went over this yesterday.” His voice was serious, yet still kind and warm. “I’m well aware that you’re going to have a baby. That doesn’t change anything for me. I told you: I’m twenty-nine; I know what I want in life, and I know what I don’t want. How’s this? Would it be too forward to ask for another date?”
“Wow,” I said, surprised. I took a quick drink of my water. “This one’s not even over yet, and you want another one? I’m flattered.”
“Just trying to prove how serious I am about you. Is that too forward of me?”
“Not too forward at all,” I said, and smiled. “I suppose I was waiting a long time for this first date.”
“So was I.” He leaned in closer to me across the small table that we shared. Then ever so slowly he pressed his lips softly against mine. He lingered for only a brief moment before he pressed them a bit further, still maintaining a balance between a soft and sweet kiss, and one filled with a pressing, fiery passion and desire.
When Girlfriends Step Up Page 20
