Dirty Talk
Page 44
The waitress comes, and in deference to Trey, I order a grilled chicken and veggie plate, knowing full well that I’m gonna scarf down the pint of Truffle Kerfluffle I’ve got sitting in my freezer back home.
Everything in moderation, I guess. Besides, recently, my appetite’s been through the roof, and while I’ve been working hard and still hitting the gym, I’m just rolling with it. Hell, body positivity and all. Not everyone needs to have a six-pack.
We’re chatting, unwinding after a long day of work, and Brad has us all roaring with laughter about a bridezilla he did makeup for last weekend. “So I get one eye done when suddenly, she decides that cerulean blue isn’t the color she wants. Instead, she starts throwing a damn tantrum that she wants ice blue.”
“There’s a difference?” Ana asks.
“Hardly, and considering it was the third damn change, I just told her I could take care of it,” Brad says. “Turned around, did a little bit of hocus-pocus with my hands, pretending I was making an adjustment, and went right back to work with the same stuff I had before. She lies back, I do a light dusting of glitter on top of what I’d already done, and she’s happy.”
“Happy?” I ask, and Brad snickers.
“Well, she didn’t try to claw anyone’s eyes out and she said I did an ‘okay’ job,” Brad admits. “Her poor overstressed daddy slipped me an extra fifty on the credit card tip for the trouble.”
“I’ll drink to that—” I start to reply before a buzzing in my purse alerts me that I’ve got a phone call. I pull it out to silence it but freeze at the number on the display. “Sorry, guys, it’s my doctor. I need to take this real quick.”
They all quiet down, using the opportunity to stuff their faces with dinner while I answer. For someone who talks about macros and ‘staying shredded’, Trey sure can get down and devour food like a starving Rottweiler sometimes. “Hello?”
“Rose, this is Dr. Eldrich,” the warm but concerned voice on the other end of the line says. I’ve been going to him since I got to town, and he’s the definition of country doc in terms of his patient interaction, but with a twenty-first-century level of care. “I wanted to check in with you about your bloodwork. I just got the results back.”
“Okaaaay . . .” the word is drawn out because while what he’s saying sounds reasonable, I can hear an inflection in his voice that’s setting me on edge. Besides, who the hell calls at early-bird special time?
“If I’m remembering correctly,” Dr. Eldrich continues, “we did a full physical and bloodwork in preparation for you to begin a donor insemination cycle.”
“That’s right, sir. I kind of have a donor in mind. I just wanted to make sure I’m healthy,” I reply. “I was thinking of coordinating with your office about that as soon as everything gets signed off. I figured on taking my time getting prepped for the cycle.”
At my quiet words, the table is totally silent, every eye on me. All three of them know about my plans and have been super supportive, but still . . . one simply doesn’t talk about sperm donations in the middle of a diner.
But my friends all know. Once I finally decided, Brad even joked that he might consider using a donor womb one day to have a mini-Brad, so it was kinda the same thing. It’s really not, but I appreciated his support.
I shake my head, my memories interrupted by Dr. Eldrich’s comment. “I figured you wanted to make sure, Rose. Well, your blood counts all came back good—cholesterol and blood pressure are healthy. There’s just one thing.”
In an instant of almost precognition, my life flashes before my eyes. Something’s wrong. I’ve got bad hormones, cysts inside me, or just flat out can’t have a baby. My dream crashes in the span of a heartbeat.
Holding my breath, I bury my chin in my chest, trying to hide from the world. “What’s wrong?”
I feel Ana place a friendly hand on my thigh, grounding me for whatever I’m about to hear. Dr. Eldrich replies quickly. I guess he heard the worry in my voice. “Rose, part of the standard workup is that we run a pregnancy test. And good news—you’re already pregnant. So it looks like you won’t need the insemination cycle after all.”
What? Did he just say what I think he did? I’m stunned, my jaw hanging slack and my eyes wide, as I stumble over his words, trying to make sense of what Doc just said. “Pregnant? Already . . . pregnant?”
Vaguely, I hear him telling me to schedule another appointment and congratulations. He hangs up, and I drop the phone to my lap in shock, my eyes scanning the expectant faces around me. “I’m uh . . . pregnant.”
With an overwhelming roar, time starts moving again and everyone’s faces light up, nobody’s brighter than Brad’s. Trey throws his hands in the air, fists pumping. “Congratulations!”
“Oh, my gosh!” Ana adds, throwing her arms around me and squeezing so tightly I think I feel my ribs start to rub together. I guess all that nursing work makes you stronger than you look.
“I think I’ll be Auntie Brad,” Brad says, signaling for the waitress. “And in the meantime, get this woman a chicken fried steak!”
As they all start to celebrate, talking fast and animated, it takes them a minute to recognize I haven’t said anything. I feel frozen, the world rushing past me without my even being able to interact with it as realization crashes over me. “It’s not . . . I didn’t . . .”
“Didn’t what, honey?” Brad asks.
Finally breaking through my paralysis, I grit out between clenched teeth, “I didn’t do the cycle yet. It’s not a donor. It’s . . . it’s . . . Nic’s.”
That gets through to Brad, who whistles slowly. I’d told him about my celebration night and how it was quite a bit hotter than my usual two-drink and home alone party. He teased me for days about getting my freak on and high-fived me when I told him about the little devil Brad telling me to go for it, claiming sagely that it totally sounded like him. “Rose, that’s so you that I can’t even begin to wrap my pretty little head around it. Only you could have a one-night stand to celebrate deciding to get inseminated and end up pregnant. I thought you were safe?”
“Well,” I say, “we were safe. But we were so into it, I don’t know, maybe it slipped off a little or tore.”
“Lucky bitch,” Ana mutters under her breath before jerking as Trey kicks her under the table. “What? An orgasm and a dream baby in one night? That’s gotta be fate—”
Trey interrupts. “Wait, so the one-night stand guy? You’re really sure the baby is his? I mean, I don’t want to say you might be mistaken but . . . are you sure?”
I glare at him. I know he’s not trying to say I’ve been slutting it up, but still, it’s hard not to read that between the lines. “Yes, I’m sure. He’s the only man I’ve been with in longer than I care to admit.”
Ana looks at me, takes my hand, and gives me a determined nod. “Okay, then. Well, you wanted a baby, you’ve got a baby. Maybe the old-fashioned way, but the result is the same. And you saved yourself baby batter fees? Congrats, girl!”
Brad looks serious and sips at his water. “So, you gonna tell your baby daddy about the little one?”
I groan, putting my head to my arms on the table. “Guys . . . I don’t even remember his last name. First name, the company he works for, and the fact that he’s in sales. That’s it.”
Brad hums, tapping his lips with his index finger. “Hmm, maybe we can do a little check-around, but you were prepared to be a single mom. So if you can’t find him, are you going to sweat it? You’ve got family right here, and we’re gonna support you and the little one. Safest, most spoiled rotten wee tyke in the whole country.”
His simple words reassure me, and I place my hands on my belly, a huge smile taking over my face. Brad’s right. I need to take joy in this. “I’m going to be a mom. I’m pregnant.”
Just like that, almost all of my dreams come true. I’ve got the business, I’ve got a great circle of friends, and now I’m having my baby.
So what if I’m missing the husband piece of t
he puzzle? I’m so damn grateful for what I do have.
Nicolas
“Sorry Nicolas,” Wesley, my friend and boss, says as I sit across the desk from him. “They’re still a no-go, but I appreciate your going above and beyond. I’ll remember that, and so will they.”
“What’s the problem?” I ask, wondering what happened. It was a pretty standard meeting with a sporting goods manufacturer. “The distribution network?”
Wesley nods. “They said our online network’s fine, but with Dick’s, Big 5, and a bunch of others out there being so much bigger with brick and mortar shopfronts, they can’t handcuff themselves to an exclusive contract.”
Shit. This sucks.
I was so certain that my proposal additions would get that manufacturer to choose ADRENALIN Sports. I’d been unsuccessful in person, sure, but I left the company headquarters with a handshake and a smile. I was certain the supplementary information should’ve had them choosing us. They are new on the market, and our company is tailored toward the outdoors ‘extreme’ sportsman.
Apparently, our market overlap doesn’t matter though. Thinking back to the initial vendor meeting, I wonder about the rough two-month streak I’ve been running on. My contract negotiations have gone to shit since that resort declined to sign with ADRENALIN, and my brain side-tracks to the night with Rose. I’d run into her that very night in the hotel bar, my brain initially focused on fixing the contract issue because that’s what I do. But we’d had amazing chemistry from the get-go and she’d been a welcome distraction from my fruitless strategizing.
We spent a fantastically hot night together, but when I woke in the soft morning light, it was to cold sheets and a Thank You note on the bedside table written on hotel stationery.
Not what I was expecting, honestly. I mean, I wasn’t expecting breakfast and warm goodbye kisses while Whitney Houston sings her ass off in the background, but then again, I’m not sure what I was expecting considering she lived in that area. I barely live anywhere since I’m always traveling, and we both have jobs that are time consuming.
Still, from that moment, I’ve run into bad luck after bad luck. I know half of it is my fault. I’m not focused. Rose was an angel, something never to be enjoyed again . . . and it’s tearing me up.
Wesley clears his throat, and I realize he’s waiting for a reply to his comment. Blinking, I try to quickly refocus. “Thanks, Wesley. I wish we’d landed that contract, but I’ll check in with the guys in the bullpen and see what else is on the horizon.”
Wesley waves it off, sliding a piece of paper across his desk to me. “No, I think we need to get you to clear your head some, break the bad luck you seem to have picked up. So I’ve got a mission for you. There’s a new upstart out in Oregon that’s doing well, especially considering there are so many adventure tour services there. It’s pretty far out, but that’s their niche . . . totally off-grid. They take their customers out, and the only way you know they fucking survive is when they come back. I’d love for you to go up and be our initial contact, see what we can place in their hands to get our name on their tours because they’re getting some hot publicity. The official supplier for these guys? That’s the sort of shit ADRENALIN can use right now. Ironic that an off-grid company is buzzing all over social media, but that’s the nature of the beast, I guess, and it’s getting customers to them in droves.”
I lean back, thinking that Wes’s idea is exactly what I need, away from the norm. “Sounds interesting. I might even take a day or two off-grid myself, see what exactly they do, pitch it to them as a way to make sure we can tailor our stuff to meet their needs.”
Honestly, I’m just spouting bullshit because I just want to get out for a while. But this project sounds like my idea of heaven. While I usually have to wear a suit and tie for work, my heart lies outdoors in the woods, in the wild, roughing it up and living off the land. My favorite fantasy would be to head out with a good knife, a bow, and a tiny backpack of supplies. All I need for a week of utter bliss.
Wesley smiles and raps his knuckles on his desk. “I’d say that’s why you’ve always been my best sales guy, but I know you’re not doing it out of the goodness of your heart for the company. You’re out for a nature walkabout, aren’t you?”
I shrug, grinning sheepishly. “Yeah, a little time outdoors always does the spirit good. And you’re right, I’ll be able to shake off this bad luck. I’ve just been a little off my game since that meeting with the people at the ski resort.”
Wesley smirks. “I still think it’s because you can’t shake the girl.”
I feel heat creep up my neck, but I don’t really have a sharp comeback for him. The week after coming back, I told him about my night with Rose—not all of the dirty details of course, but that I met someone sexy and brilliant and talking through the proposal with her had actually resulted in a few of the additions I’d made.
The contract for the Mountain Spirit resort might not have gone through, but her input was invaluable to me, and Rose has been on my mind ever since.
Trying to brush off his comment, I give Wes the finger. “Fuck you, man. Yeah, that was a good night, but you know how life is. Still, not everyday I meet a woman that smart and gorgeous.”
Wesley, who married his college sweetheart and has been happy about it every day since, shrugs. “Maybe your walkabout can give you a few ideas for your upcoming vacation? Hell, you could head out there for a repeat performance.”
I smile, shaking my head. “While that could be fun, I’m not sure I want to risk ruining a great memory when she obviously left the next morning with no intention of seeing me again. It’s just that sort of night that you can never, ever live up to again. It was just that, a night to remember forever.”
Wesley shakes his head. For a man who’s an executive, I swear he’s a lot more idealistic than I am. “Then maybe you’ll meet some little Earth-loving lady out in the wilds on your trip. Can I give you a hint?”
I look at him expectantly, ready for the joke because I know him and that’s where this is going. When ideas don’t work, resort to humor, usually the closer to frat house humor, the better. He’s just lucky everyone working directly for him is a guy who isn’t going to get offended at his occasional comments. “What?”
“If she doesn’t shave her pits, there’s no lady garden tending either. Full 70s bush, guaranteed.”
There’s a half-beat of silence and then we both burst out laughing. “Thanks for the tip, man. But I’m not looking for anything right now, bare or hair. Just some work, some relaxation, and then I’ll be back, hopefully with a new deal with our off-grid tour company.”
Rose
I don’t know if I’ve ever felt this vulnerable before, sitting in the doctor’s office waiting for my first prenatal exam. I’m wearing a barely-there sanitary gown that peekaboos my ass no matter how many times I wrap and rewrap it around myself. To top it off, the cold is making my nipples ache they’re so goddamn tight, and my ass and thighs seem to be coated in superglue as much as they’re sticking to this paper-lined bed. Examination? More like the goddamn Spanish Inquisition.
Finally, there’s a soft knock and Dr. Stevens walks in. While Dr. Eldritch is going to monitor me and still be my main physician, he referred me to his friend for the baby itself. He’s young, and I wonder how someone his age could have finished all of his training already. He looks like he should barely be old enough to shave, and if it wasn’t that the hair’s way too light, he’d be a perfect stand-in for Sheldon Cooper. “Uh, Dr. Stevens? How old are you?”
He chuckles as he sets his clipboard aside. “I’m thirty-four. I know, I know. My mother kept getting carded for drinks up until I was in junior high school. Even now, she gets men half her age giving her compliments. Hope I get that when I’m sixty.”
I nod, relaxing a micrometer. “Okay. Sorry if I offended you.”
“Not at all. Now let me go get Julie, and you get yourself arranged for the exam.” He leaves, returning a moment lat
er with one of the nurses I saw up front, a pleasant motherly-looking woman who puts me at ease with her seen-it-all demeanor. “All right, Rose. Let’s check you out, see how everything’s going.”
I scoot down, letting my ass hang off the table, and lift my heels to the stirrups for the exam. Dr. Stevens wants to do a full workup, make sure I don’t have anything brewing downstairs that might give rise to complications later. I feel the chilly air between my legs and shiver. Okay, I was wrong . . . forget five minutes ago. This is the most vulnerable I’ve ever felt.
“Relax,” Dr. Stevens says as he pulls on rubber gloves. “This part only takes about two minutes . . . and then we can do the ultrasound to see if we can get a view of your baby.”
At the mention of the sonogram, my heart starts pounding, excited to see the baby. My baby. I’m still in shock, have been since I got the phone call a few weeks ago, but the reality is starting to sink in. “O–okay.”
“So have you started following the advice Dr. Eldrich gave you?” Stevens asks as he swabs me. I know what he’s doing, trying to distract me, but it still helps.
“I went right to the store and started the vitamins he suggested, and I’m getting forty-five minutes of exercise in every day,” I reply, shifting my butt a little. “How much can you tell on the ultrasound?”
“Depends on your date of conception,” he replies in between giving orders to Julie the nurse. “If you’re more than six or seven weeks pregnant, we might be able to detect a heartbeat. We’ll see what we can see.”
I relax as best I can as Dr. Stevens begins the sonogram and starts scanning for my baby.
My eyes lock on the monitor screen as Dr. Stevens takes measurements, but all I see are swatches of grey static and an occasional black orb. He makes a few comments to Julie, but nothing I can understand. “Uhh . . . doctor?” I ask nervously. “So does everything look okay?”
Dr. Stevens smiles and looks me in the eye. “Yep, perfectly fine. I’d make an estimate that from the size of your baby and some of the other things I’m seeing, you’re about two months along now. Now let’s see if I can get an audio for you on the heartbeat.”