This Is 35

by Stacey Wiedower

  The articles she'd stumbled upon had opened Erin's eyes to some things she'd never realized—like the idea that good design could make life easier and more comfortable, which could help reduce stress. She thought she might be able to incorporate some of what she'd learned into a blog post or column. It went along with the idea of intentional living.

  Plus, she needed all the help she could get with stress reduction. She eyed her mismatched living room with a new, more critical eye. She knew it didn't look good, but she hadn't had time in the past two years to really even notice it, let alone deal with it. When she'd lived with Sherri, she'd never worried about these things because Sherri was as creative and efficient with design as she was with travel planning and accounting and pretty much everything else she threw her energy into. Erin figured the baby's nursery was probably ready for a magazine shoot at a moment's notice, and Sherri was barely even showing yet.

  The baby. Without thinking about it, Erin's fingers drifted to the base of her abdomen, and she rubbed a hand along the flat, empty plane of her stomach. She thought about her conversation with Ben a week earlier, how he'd balked so completely at the idea of having a baby. It had been a shock. They hadn't talked very specifically about their plans for kids—when, how many—but Erin had always felt like Ben was more ready than she was to be tied down by a baby. Because that's how she'd looked at it up until now—that a baby would tie them down. Her entire adult life she'd done what she wanted to do and when. She loved blogging and working and traveling and having adventures. How would that change with motherhood? Would it put an end to her blogging days? Would she become one more ripple in the vast sea of mommy bloggers? Or would her next blog adventure involve a baby bucket list?

  Hmm, that's an interesting idea. She pondered potential titles. Adventure Baby? 12 by 12 Months? A Baby and a Bucket List?

  Suddenly she remembered her own bucket list and the next item on it, and a flush rose to her cheeks. No. 27: Go commando. The furniture had to wait until after her appointment with the designer, and in the meantime she had to start planning her next two items, both of which involved seducing her husband.

  Yet again, the timing of her list was uncanny. She and Ben just had one of the worst arguments of their marriage—over the phone. Which meant they hadn't had a chance to make up yet, at least not in person.

  She stood from the couch, where she'd been lounging with her laptop and transcribing an interview for a POPSUGAR piece on hiking the U.S. National Parks. In the past few weeks she'd also picked up a new monthly column for a dating website aimed at Millennials—an offer she wouldn't have been able to accept before the loss of her Glamour column put a hole in her schedule. She had two more columns due to Yvonne before the assignment ended, which was great—the magazine hadn't cut her off immediately, as she'd thought when Yvonne first broke the news. She'd also learned the magazine really was going through a redesign, so there was a chance that losing the column wasn't her fault. The bad news was that she hadn't written her next column yet, and she'd already picked up new work to replace it. She'd be busier than ever in the next few weeks.

  But busy was good. Busy was the best she could ask for while she walked around with a guillotine poised to drop on her neck at any moment. She couldn't wait for the show's season to end.

  A charge ran up her spine and tingled in her throat. The next episode aired tonight, and it was the one about the climb. The climb the day before their wedding. The climb Ben didn't attend. She hoped the show wouldn't give Ben's absence as much play as she feared…and maybe it wouldn't because this episode was also about Lucas Blakeney's month-long stint in Amish territory, and that's what YOLO was teasing the most in promo spots.

  She'd seen that footage—in fact, she'd worked on that footage. Lucas, a lawyer from Virginia Beach, had gotten cozy with a fresh-faced, twenty-one-year-old Amish girl named Amber who just so happened to be the virginal eldest daughter of the family that put him up. Erin knew the episode contained a scene with a heated discussion between Lucas and Big Charles, Amber's father—because she'd edited it. There was another hot scene where Lucas and Amber snuck out after everybody was in bed to make out in the hayloft of the barn only to be followed by Amber's nine-year-old brother and ratted out the next day in the middle of a family dinner.

  Erin could only hope their scandalous story line would get so much screen time that her own scenes would be brief.

  She should be so lucky.

  Glancing at her phone, she jumped when she saw the time. Ben's flight was getting in around four-thirty, and Erin was meeting him at six for dinner at a cozy little Italian place in their neighborhood. Then they were going home to watch the show together. Coincidentally, the next day was Valentine's Day, but she'd planned the impromptu date night not because of the holiday, but because of her list. And also, what fun was commando if they were just hanging out at home?

  * * *

  "I'm sorry."

  "You already said that. I'm sorry, too."

  "No, but I mean I'm really sorry. I should have taken you seriously when you said you were ready to have a baby. I didn't mean to make you feel like I was still mad at you about the show. The two things have nothing to do with each other."

  Erin glanced up from her wine glass, and when she noted Ben's earnest expression, her heart flip-flopped. He meant what he was saying.

  "I know."

  He kept staring at her intensely, and Erin's heart did another somersault.

  "Does this mean you really are ready to start trying to have a baby?" She scooted forward on her chair, unable to keep the corners of her lips from twitching up. Her heart was still fluttering, pounding in a jagged, nervous rhythm.

  He smiled back in a way that made her insides melt like the fudge drizzle on the slice of flourless chocolate cake they were sharing. His eyes were molten.

  "I haven't been able to think about anything else."

  Erin couldn't believe they were doing this. Even though it was on her list—and coming up much faster than she was prepared for—this was something that transcended any bucket list. They were trying to have a baby.

  Life was nothing if not a roller coaster. Two weeks ago, she'd been miserable. Everything had blown apart at once, her marriage quaking and her dreams scattering into a nightmare. And now…they were trying to have a baby. This was real.

  Her breathing sped as she considered what it really meant.

  Every nerve ending in her body was alive and on high alert. She tried to find a name for the emotion she was feeling but decided there wasn't one. Some heady mix of exhilaration, joy, and terror. Like she'd felt when facing most of the other extreme sport items on her bucket lists, only amplified. Parenthood had to be the most extreme sport in existence. It scared and titillated her more than the idea of rock climbing, skiing, skydiving, and skinny-dipping all put together.

  She was ready to start trying now.

  Erin glanced around the restaurant. It wasn't busy at this early weeknight hour. Their table for two was deep inside the dining room, tucked against a wall leading to a back hallway. The walls were dark, and the lighting was low, so the place was dim even though the sun was still bright outside the shuttered windows. A white tablecloth hung only a few inches beyond the table's edge, but Erin decided to risk it anyway. She scooted forward so she was practically balanced on the edge of her chair and ran a hand over Ben's knee and up his leg. His eyes widened.

  She drew a shaky breath.

  "I bet I can make you think about something else." Excited as she was, the words came out low and breathy, seductive, without even trying.

  Ben arched an eyebrow. "Oh, really?"

  "Give me your hand," she whispered.

  "What?" He looked taken aback…and intrigued.

  He scooted his chair closer and reached down to lace his fingers through hers. Not quite believing she was doing it, Erin pulled their hands toward her lap and slid Ben's fingers up the inside of her thigh, well beyond the hem of her knee-length skirt.
She unlaced her fingers from his.

  "Keep going," she rasped.

  With his eyes locked on hers, he stretched his hand slowly further, and then further, until there was no doubt that he'd discovered her secret. His fingers moved against her skin, caressing her under the table, getting closer to home with every movement. Erin closed her eyes, suppressing a moan.

  "Is there anything else I can get you?"

  The chirpy voice of their server caused Erin to jerk her head up with surprise. She was sure her face was as crimson as the half inch of pinot noir that remained in her glass. Ben didn't even flinch, and didn't move his hand.

  "Check, please," he said, his eyes fixed on Erin's face.

  "Sure thing." The waitress bounced away from the table.

  As soon as she was gone, Ben said, "So I take it you've gotten to Go commando?" His voice—husky, rough—wasn't nearly as composed as his body language.

  "Mmm-hmm."

  He stroked her under the table, and Erin shuddered. With more comically bad timing, the server reappeared. "Here you go." She plopped a black leather folder onto the white tablecloth, not suspecting what was happening underneath.

  "Thanks."

  To Erin's simultaneous anguish and relief, Ben withdrew his hand. He reached for his wallet, counted out a few bills, and placed them in the folder. Erin eyed him questioningly—he never paid with cash, always credit.

  "Let's go. Now."

  She didn't say anything, but grabbed his hand and ran with him for the exit.

  * * *

  At eight o'clock sharp, Erin and Ben were propped on pillows against the headboard of their bed, waiting for the show to start. Erin was nervous but resigned. At this point she expected the worst from her coproducers, the absolute worst. So at least she wouldn't be caught off guard this time if Jarvis and the rest continued the Machiavellian treatment of her story line.

  The episode featured the rock climbing scene, as expected, and snippets of her pep talk to herself as she climbed. These scenes were interspersed with interview segments, and all the questions they chose to air were about Ben—when he was scheduled to land, why he wasn't there for the climb. This worried Erin, but at least they had also focused on her overcoming her fear of the cliff. There was a closeup shot of her face once she'd determined to conquer the mountain, and Greg did a blush-worthy voice-over about the hard work and strength of mind it takes to turn a goal into reality and how Erin's original bucket list was inspiring others to chase their dreams.

  Most of the episode focused on the confrontation between Lucas, Amber, and Big Charles. Erin kept waiting for the show to return to her story, to further develop the Ben saga, but there was no mention of his late flight and no preview of the wedding drama to come. She was one jaw drop shy of shocked that Jarvis wasn't teasing with a "Will she be jilted at the altar?" scene. Maybe he'd taken her anger seriously and written it out of the story.

  Again, she should be so lucky.

  At least she had another week before she'd have to worry about the big, scary wedding episode. The minute the show ended, Erin's phone blew up with calls from her mom, Sherri, Dave. She called her mom back first, listening to her gush over how great the episode was—probably going a little overboard because she knew how sensitive Erin was about it—as Ben lazily trailed a finger up and down her leg.

  "That wasn't so bad," he said once Erin put the phone down.

  "No, it wasn't." Hearing it from Ben's lips, the relief of that fact was heady.

  She wondered, though. Was YOLO's torment of her over, or was this the calm before the storm?

  * * *

  Two nights later, Erin was rushing to complete No. 28: Make a gourmet meal before Ben got busy with work again. It was a Saturday, so he was home, and he wasn't scheduled to leave town again for two whole weeks. But he'd still be in the lab late most nights, so she was seizing this opportunity while she had it.

  She decided to stick with one of the recipes she'd learned hands-on in class—pan-seared cod with brown butter herb sauce over parmesan creamed potatoes and crispy green beans on the side. For dessert she was trying her hand at a chocolate soufflé, even though her classroom attempt hadn't gone well.

  She went out that afternoon to buy the ingredients, feeling pumped that another list item, No. 6: Plant an herb garden, meant she didn't have to buy the fresh dill or parsley on her shopping list. Sure, the dill in the pot on her back patio had turned half brown and was sprouting tiny bolts of pale green and yellow flowers at the ends of its fronds, but it was still dill. And rabbits or moles or something had been nibbling at the pot of parsley, but the last time she'd checked there'd at least been a few new shoots of frilly green leaves near the center of the pot.

  She'd put the herb garden on the list thinking her cooking lessons might mean she'd actually have a use for herbs. It hadn't precisely worked out that way, but at least she was using them now, before the season ended and they all shriveled up and turned brown. Maybe next year she'd figure out how to fit cooking into her schedule.

  If we have a baby, I'll be home more. Not that she'd have more time, but she'd be home. And even though she'd always thought it was over the top, she'd probably be one of those moms who bought out the organic section of the grocery store and pureed her own baby food. Hilary was. Dave's wife Missy was. Saying she'd buck the trend was kind of like saying her kids wouldn't watch TV or play on iPads in restaurants or cry on planes. What she knew about motherhood and babies could fit into the nipple of a pacifier. In fact, the only thing she knew for certain was that she knew nothing. And so her theory was "never say never." It was a good maxim for life as well as impending parenthood.

  Erin spent a whole minute wondering over the fact that she was thinking about things like pureed baby food and kids watching TV. Now that she'd taken the mental leap, there was no going back. Especially since their plan to start trying for a baby was no longer just a plan. She and Ben had skipped the contraception after leaving the restaurant two nights earlier, and again the night after that, and presumably, later tonight.

  Each day she realized more and more that having a baby wasn't something she wanted to check off a list. It was something she wanted. For the first time in her life.

  Maybe this career setback and all the crappy things that had happened lately were exactly what she'd needed. Since she'd quit teaching and started blogging, her career had gone better than she'd ever imagined it could. She'd found a job she loved, a job that rarely even felt like work. Instead of scaling back in her early thirties like many of her friends, she actually had "leaned in." She'd been working her butt off.

  When she looked at it in this light, even her fight with Ben, the tough patch they'd gone through, seemed like a catalyst to get them talking about something they'd avoided because of how busy they always were.

  Erin smiled to herself, realizing she was actually truly content. She hadn't felt this way since Leo's near assault, and maybe even since she and Ben returned from Italy.

  We're trying to have a baby. We're trying to have a baby! Ben's sperm could be burrowing into her egg at this very moment. Erin cupped her abdomen again, trying to work out the timing in her head. She knew she was somewhere near ovulation, but she hadn't marked her periods on a calendar since college. That would have to change.

  We're trying to have a baby!

  For the first time since she'd started taping list items for the show, Erin felt like her 35 by 35 list had real meaning again.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  A Life of Adventure

  Date: February 16

  Age: 34

  Time to 35: 3 months, 4 weeks

  List Item: No. 28: Make a gourmet meal

  Any of you who've seen the teaser for my cooking class segment on YOLO might not believe what I'm about to tell you. I cooked a meal! Outside of class, in my own kitchen, without burning anything (except my hand when pulling soufflés out of the oven, but that doesn't count). Yes, the kitchen looked like a crime scene when I w
as finished, and yes, Ben and I didn't eat till 10:30, but I cooked! And if I say so myself, it was pretty damn good.

  If you're thinking "Big whoop. You did something millions of people do on a nightly basis," well, I don't entirely blame you. I realize following a recipe isn't brain surgery or thermonuclear physics. But guys, my lack of cooking talent was legen…wait for it…dary. Not only was it a long-standing family joke, but I was so helpless in the kitchen it's a wonder I could find the oven.

  I say this to point out that it doesn't matter how big or small your goals are, what matters is that they're YOURS. One reason I created 35 by 35 and before that, 30 First Dates, was to get myself out of the rut of my own negative thinking. I'd convinced myself I'd never be able to cook like my mom (and it's highly likely that I won't), but I want to be able to provide homemade, healthy food for Ben and for our future family like my mom did for me and my dad growing up. That's why I put Learn to cook on my list. It might seem trivial, but to me it's more than a box to check. And so, cooking a whole meal that was actually edible (if not quite "gourmet," but you've got to start somewhere) feels pretty damn satisfying.

  Plus, now that I'm learning my way around the lingo and the gadgets and the techniques, cooking doesn't feel as intimidating as it used to. And I guess that's the point, right? Bucket lists are about conquering your fears and insecurities as much as they're about seeing and doing new things. Even now, two bucket lists and 58 list items in, I'm still learning what this is all about.

  Within hours of posting the blog entry, Erin was already focused on her next list item. She spun to face Sherri, perplexed.

  "So you definitely think the gray sectional? Not the dark brown leather?"

  Forgetting her own advice from the morning's post, she felt like a nurse composing a symphony or a kindergarten teacher performing heart surgery—lost, with a side of panic. This was so not her element.