“People at work know?” I asked, somewhat astonished.
“Uh-oh. Should we keep it under wraps? Someone ashamed to call me her boyfriend?”
“Ha. Ha. I didn’t think about it, that’s all. But we are official. We have been going out for a while…I am falling for you…fallen for you, I should say.” I left room with my pauses for kittenish remarks. “I guess all of those lunches together would leave people talking around the office. And the kisses, too. Not too good at hiding those…”
“Aw, Robin, you’re amazing,” he sighed. “I’ve fallen hard for you and I’m enjoying every minute of it. I’ll let you get some sleep now.”
“Goodnight, Bobby,” I said softly.
“Goodnight, honey.”
***
Since Bobby and I had made it “official” a few days earlier, I wanted to lay something out on the table that’d been bothering me for a while. Complete honesty. Janet’s vindictive mention about Bobby buttering me up for the promotion, so he could squeeze by, become my best right-hand man, then say, “See ya!” and move on to greener pastures—I couldn’t shake it from my mind. I know it was a ridiculous thought, “totally absurd,” as Lara had put it. However, I wasn’t completely convinced. I needed to do what my gut was telling me and put it out there. If Bobby and I were an official pair, now, he’d have to get used to listening to my thoughts, no matter how obscure they were. And as secure as I felt around him, as comfortable as I felt being me and feeling confident when I was with him, I couldn’t help but hear the nagging voice in my head warning me that something would spoil this fantasy-turned-reality. Maybe Bobby was only with me for the stupid reasons Janet said. Sure, he’d said he didn’t want the PM position in the interest of the firm and his own career goals, but what about going at it from a different angle? Going through me somehow? What if Bobby did have an angle, and I was the pathetic pawn in it all?
I unwrapped the sandwich I’d hastily packed for lunch that morning. My mind was buzzing with thoughts of how I’d delicately tell Bobby what was on my mind. I didn’t want to hurt him or accuse him of something I hoped to God was false, yet I needed to dispel the thoughts and ill feelings by laying it out there.
“Come on, Robin. What is it?” Bobby urged, caressing my forearm. The weather had surprised us with a tepid day with more sunshine than rainclouds, so we took our sack lunches out on the bistro table on the sidewalk outside the office.
I glanced up at a co-worker who passed by on his way to his car in the parking lot. I made sure the co-worker was in his car, door shut, and no one else was around. When all was clear, I told Bobby not to think that I was stupid or childish or petty. Sometimes I could be irrational—a trait enhanced by being pregnant, but also what came with my unfortunate general lack of confidence. I told him Janet’s stupid theory about why he was suddenly interested in me, why she thought he turned on the charm and, as she said that morning, that “Bobby’s only using you by making you his girlfriend now. How convenient.”
“That couldn’t be further from the truth,” he said, his face turned down, the veins in his neck starting to push forward. “That’s deplorable. Nothing could be further from the truth!”
I told him to calm down, that I was sorry for bringing it up.
“No,” he said, trying to relax. “Don’t be sorry. It was on your mind and I want you to feel like you can talk to me about anything. You need to follow your heart, though.” He took my hands in his. “Ignore what Janet, a miserable woman with no one to love, thinks about us. You know none of that’s true.”
“But why now? Why me and now?” I asked, still wanting to press the matter, not because I actually believed Janet’s stupid theory, but because why on Earth would someone like Bobby, such an amazing man who could probably have a handful of women out there, want to be with me? And at eight months pregnant!
“Robin,” he said, his voice stern. “I’m going to tell you something.”
I nodded my head slowly.
Dear God, what is he going to say?
“I’ve said it before. I’ll say it again. Your being pregnant has no bearing, whatsoever, on the situation. I would have asked you out whether or not you were pregnant. Whether you were caught up in some custody battle with the father…even having to split time with the baby, seeing him. So long as we were both single, I would have asked. Hell, I probably would have asked you even if you were seeing someone. Not that I condone sweeping a girl off her feet and out of the arms of another dude. Not cool.” He pulled in closer to me, leaning over the table, my hands still tightly clenched in his. “But knowing what I know now. Knowing you. Knowing how I feel about you. About what I feel when I see you walk into a room. When I’m around you—I couldn’t imagine life without you now, Robin.
“So I’ll say it again, once more. I’m not trying to sabotage your career or advance mine by making you my girlfriend. I’m not trying to weasel my way into anything. I’m not with you because you’re pregnant and single and I feel sorry for you or anything ridiculous like that. In fact, if I had my head on straight, I would have asked you out years ago.” He glanced down at the table, then looked back up at me, straight into my eyes. “I’ve fallen for you, Robin. Fallen hard. I’m with you simply because…because I’ve fallen in love with you.”
I swallowed the lump that had been forming in my throat the instant he said he had something to tell me. My feelings for Bobby were, without a hint of doubt, reciprocated.
I felt my stomach flip, and I thought they were butterflies, until I recognized the peculiar movement. I was feeling my little girl kicking, rolling around.
“Oh my goodness,” I said, clutching my stomach.
Bobby jumped forward out of his chair slightly, alarmed. “You all right?”
“Yes,” I said, grinning widely. “Yes, yes. Here, feel.” I grabbed his hand and placed it on my stomach as my baby girl continued kicking and moving.
“I think she’s celebrating!” I laughed, tears springing to my eyes. “She liked your little speech there, Bobby.” She kept fluttering about, a small nub apparent to the naked eye, right there through my shirt, skirting across my stomach. “My God! Look! You can see her!” I gently touched the moving button, Bobby’s hand moving with mine.
I looked up at him, wiped a strain of tears from my cheek, and said, “I’ve never felt her move so much. This is amazing. This is incredible! I think she really is celebrating, Bobby.”
With one hand still on my stomach, feeling the constant kicks and movements of my baby, he brushed away the last tears from my cheek with a soft swipe of his thumb. His ocean blue eyes looked deeply into mine, lightening up to an even bluer shade, as he smiled, and said, “I love you, Robin.”
“I love you, too, Bobby.” I sniffed back my tears and met him halfway for the most passionate, most beautiful, and most meaningful kiss I’d ever had.
Chapter Twenty
The final Lamaze class went very well. Lara and I were confident we knew all the proper breathing and relaxing exercises. We knew more than we wanted to about things that can tear, needed to be stretched, massaged—the works. We were well-prepared for when the baby would arrive. I was approaching my last full month of pregnancy and couldn’t wait to meet my little girl. She’d been doing a lot of moving in recent weeks, and Sky said she had dropped. I was well on my way to delivering very soon.
Naturally, when the girls heard that my baby was getting into position for birth, they agreed we were in need of one final girls’ night before the big moment. Location: not a bar or a club or the usual spot with loud music and dancing. Jackie and Claire had originally suggested we go to The Clubhouse, a converted warehouse-turned-bar that was, in spite of its rowdily suggestive name, a low-key, but high-on-fun bar in Capitol Hill. But Lara chimed in with me when I suggested that it was probably best I put my club-visits on hold for a while. And, as they reassured me, there’d be plenty of time in the future to toast with a cosmo and hit the dance floor, all the girls together again go
ing out for a night. This time, however, with my daughter’s due date right around the corner, we decided to head over to Josephine’s and Josie’s, a very laid-back coffeehouse that often hosted poetry readings, book signings, and the occasional weekend evening piano or guitar performance.
All of us, save for Sophie, who was spending the weekend at her parents’ in Santa Barbara saying goodbye to her brother before he left for London, got dolled up for the special acoustical guitar duo performance that night. Although I’d found myself the designated driver in a few situations since I became preggers, I could no longer fit behind the wheel. So Jackie did what Jackie does best, and she called for a stretch limo, saying that Andrew wouldn’t mind. “We have to go in style for your last night out before the baby’s here,” Jackie had insisted.
It was a bummer that we couldn’t manage to gather all the girls together, but lately it was a miracle we could find a weekend when Jackie was free. As great as Andrew was (and Jackie reminded us on several occasions how fabulous and generous he was), he did demand a lot of Jackie’s attention and time. He traveled a lot, but when he was in town he wanted Jackie by his side, no questions. When she said she was free this weekend we pounced; not like I had that many free weekends left before it would be all about midnight feedings, diaper changes, and possibly something I recently read in my new infant books called colic. Sometimes I was really nervous about the big delivery day, then I’d think about finally getting to meet my daughter and I’d get excited. Still so very unreal, yet somehow, at the same time, it all felt very real.
Things were going spectacularly with Bobby. I still couldn’t believe I was in love with the most incredible man. I mean, these kinds of stories exist in fantasy only! The stuff fairy tales are made of. (Even though Snow White and Sleeping Beauty weren’t knocked up, single, and then swept off their feet by the knight on the white horse. Different stories, same happily ever after, I hoped.)
My whole office learned really fast that Bobby and I were an item. Janet continued making underhanded remarks and I did my best to ignore them, brush them off and not let her get under my skin. Damn was that difficult. Back on our one-week anniversary (so cute!), Bobby had brought me a colorful bouquet of roses, with a handmade card: a simple heart cutout on pink card stock, that read, Roses for my Rose. XO, The Man Who Loves You.
Janet had exaggeratedly rolled her eyes and told me that such public displays of affection were immature and that we should keep our personal lives to ourselves. She repeated this antic in her usual distasteful manner whenever Bobby brought me a drink, or left a sweet Post-It on my desk, or shared lunch with me in the break room. I got used to tuning her out, admiring my gifts and enjoying Bobby’s attention, and then getting right back to work. Bobby and I were affectionate towards one another in public, but not to a revolting level, and certainly not to the point where our job performance suffered. I don’t think we kissed more than once a day when at work—usually reserved for lunchtime. We were a solid item, but we weren’t, contrary to my wretched officemate’s opinion, behaving like “love sick middle schoolers.”
On the way to the coffeehouse, the girls sipped champagne in the back of a snazzy limousine that had extremely comfortable seats, really taking the strain off my lower back, which had been killing me in recent days.
I’d finished filling the girls in on the Janet saga, and about how over-the-moon I was for Bobby, gushing over the story of how Bobby brought me a gift for just a one-week anniversary awhile ago.
“And that’s when I finally found the perfect name for my baby,” I said to them.
“When Bobby gave you your one week anniversary present?” Jackie asked, her face squished in confusion.
“Which is totally sweet, by the way. I honestly don’t think Conner ever did that,” Claire added. She threw back the rest of her champagne. “One year, yeah. Not a week.”
“Tell us the name already!” Lara urged.
“Rose,” I said. “‘Roses for my Rose.’ It hit me when I read Bobby’s little card. Isn’t it the sweetest name?”
“I love it,” Claire said.
“Do you have a middle name picked out?” Lara asked.
“No. Just Rose. She only needs one. Who needs two names anyway?”
Lara moved her head in contemplation.
“True,” Claire said. “Sophie hates her parents sometimes for naming her Anna-Sophia. Says she feels like she should be a Catholic nun or something. That’s just her first name and she doesn’t even use both of them. I wonder why we do have middle names…”
“Rose, I like that,” Jackie said. “I like that a lot. And just ‘Rose.’ It’s like just ‘Madonna’ or ‘Pink’ or ‘Adele.’ A good move, Robin.”
“Yeah, because I definitely chose my baby’s name keeping in mind popular pop star names.”
We pulled up in front of the coffeehouse.
“Let’s check this joint out!” Jackie shrieked, stepping quickly to the house’s open patio doors.
“Find us some seats together, Jack. If you can,” Claire called out. Claire tittered at the energetic Jackie, who had insisted that she slip into a hot pink dress for the night. We told her we were going to a coffeehouse, with some light acoustical guitar music, and not a bouncing bar, but no matter.
“Think they’re serving drinks?” Jackie asked, before disappearing into the house.
“I’ll go find us some seats,” Claire groaned, high-stepping it after Jackie.
“It’s been too long since we went out like this,” Lara said. She took her seat next to me near the back of the coffeehouse. It was just about packed, the music not yet underway, but the chatting and the sounds of the espresso machines and milk foamers filled the cozy room.
“And it’s probably going to be a long while until the next time we get to do this,” I said, a little somber.
“It’ll be worth it. You’re going to gush all over Rose once she’s here. You know it,” Lara encouraged. “I really love that name, by the way.”
“Hey girls,” Jackie interrupted. “I’m going to take a quick smoke before the music gets started.” She dashed off to the patio.
“So, are things with Bobby still spectacular as ever?” Claire asked me. “Still as great after his romantic first week anniversary move?” She blew at her fresh mug of coffee.
“Oh my goodness. Better than ever. It’s still so unbelievable.” I blew on my own hot beverage.
“I’m really happy for you, Robin,” Lara said. “Of course I’m going to miss my partner in crime when I need to bitch about the single life, but it’s worth it.” She gave me a wink.
The girls had all met Bobby, and they all gave their ten-score approval for both looks and charm. Lara had been hosting a Will and Grace marathon and cocktail night at our apartment not too long ago when Bobby came by to pick me up for a date at the folk festival going on at the Seattle Center. It was one of our dress-down, cotton candy and torn jeans kind of dates—my favorite. When I returned home, the girls all still planted in the living room, Will, Grace, and the gang razzing the audience (and the girls) into fits of comedic laughter, they gushed over how handsome Bobby was, and how sweet he was, and what a sexy voice he had. You know, typical girl raving and gossiping about men, love, our lives, and how amazing it is when they intersect.
“No new developments with Paul?” I asked Lara.
“Oh, no. Not a shot in hell. All in my head.” Lara inattentively took a sip of her coffee. “Know what I mean? All blown out of proportion. Nope. No love life here.”
“Hey!” Jackie said, quickly rushing back over to us. She pulled down her dress, holding her small breasts as she tugged so as not to accidentally pull the whole thing down and give everyone a peep show. “Some guys out there were talking about how one of these guitarists is pretty famous or something.”
Jackie turned her back to Claire and asked, “Claire, my ass hanging out?”
“Nope, all’s clear.”
“Good.” Jackie held out her hand to
Lara, doing a dance with her fingers like a child who’s begging for a sip of whatever Mom is drinking. “Let me taste.” Lara gave in. “Not wearing any underwear tonight,” Jackie said. She took a speedy sip, returned the mug to Lara, and gave a thumbs up. “With this skimpy dress I have to be careful not to show my business to the world. That tastes good by the way, girl.”
“Ooo. That’s disgusting,” Lara said, contorting her face. “Why the hell are you not wearing any?”
“Underwear does not go with this dress, Lara. Fashion one-oh-one, honey.” She made a swooping motion from her shoulder down her side. “Thong line and tight tube dress are not a match. I don’t care what Redbook says about seamless panties. No such thing. Best answer is panty-free. What’s that drink anyway?”
Lara responded, to which Jackie said, “I want one.”
Lara gave her mug to Jackie, looked at me, and said after a sigh, “I’ll be back. You want anything else, girls?”
The guitar duo performed a few of their own songs, one of which I swore I’d heard before; one of the guys probably was someone famous, but not one of us figured it out, even after learning of the duo’s name.
After a couple of cover songs there was a brief pause, enough time to refill our beverages and mix, mingle, and chat.
“So are you and Bobby going to move in together now or what?” Jackie asked me over the raucous chatter and whirring coffee machines.
“Are you kidding?” I said. The thought of living with Bobby had yet to cross my mind. I had recently moved in with Lara. We finally got the baby’s room complete. Goodness, my last moving box was unpacked (all thanks to needless procrastination) only last week. Move in with Bobby? No way.
“It’s not such a crazy idea,” Jackie said. “All right, so maybe Andrew and I move faster than the average couple, but are you saying it’s out of the picture?”
“Of course not. I haven’t given it any thought, though. We’re keeping things paced. Not making any rash decisions. And we see each other all the time. And…I like my set up now.” I set my empty mug on the side table. “I really like the way things are. I’ve got the best roomie.” I smiled at Lara. “I’ve got the most beautiful nursery, which, by the way, Jack, looks amazing with that chair rail. You’re quite the handy woman.” Jackie made a mock motion of fluffing her hair. “I love my set up, and I don’t think I should go gallivanting off in search of a new place with my dreamboat right now.”
When Girlfriends Step Up Page 23
