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How ironic that we want the same things now that it’s over. “Then leave my office and don’t come back unless you have an important update about one of our client projects.”
He left with his head held high as if I was the one whose behavior had been regrettable, and for ages, I just gaped at the door, wondering what I was thinking. Sure, he was perfect for me on paper. Good job, nice—if not slightly vanilla—family, and a dedicated flosser. But there was no edge to him.
Maybe that’s why I tried so hard to make it work. Not only did he seem pliable, but he seemed safe. He never would’ve hit me or shouted at me or intimidated me into thinking he might do either, and that realization made me sad. Because maybe my standards weren’t as high as I thought.
Or maybe I was right the day I told Maddy a boyfriend could never fill the void in me that a baby would. Besides, I had the rest of my life to find a suitable companion. Whereas if I wanted a baby, I needed to get a move on yesterday.
Looking back, it was crazy to think how close I’d been to choosing a donor when Kurt first asked me out. Was that why I said yes? I’d been so quick to change my plans, as if some small part of me wasn’t yet brave enough to face motherhood alone. But I’d stayed with him out of fear, and I knew now there were worse things than being single. Like having plenty of the wrong fucking company. Ugh.
No use crying over wasted time. I’d rather pick up where I left off with renewed focus. Hell, I could be pregnant by Valentine’s Day if I buckled down. It seemed an optimistic prospect, but optimism was exactly what I needed in that moment. That, and any excuse that would make doubling down on my chocolate consumption socially acceptable.
Then again, Chicago winters were a perfect excuse to put on protective weight. Which might not be a bad idea. Getting a little fat. I’d be able to hide the pregnancy for longer that way, so my colleagues would let me get on with my job. Which is all I really wanted. To be left alone.
So, of course, my phone started ringing that very second.
I stared at the screen for a moment, struggling to place the number. But when I remembered I was waiting to hear back from the bar about my scarf, I picked up.
“Hi, can I speak to Maeve?”
The voice sounded familiar, but I was sure my mind was playing tricks on me. “Speaking.”
“Hi, Maeve. This is Finn from FedEx. We have a New Year’s kiss for you that we were unable to deliver.”
My lips tugged towards a smile.
“I’m just calling to see when it might be a good time to try again?”
I opened my mouth but didn’t know what to say.
“I also have your scarf.”
“You do?”
“I think so,” he said. “It matches the description you left in your message anyway.”
“Aahhh. So that’s how you got my number.”
“I’ll be the first to admit I thought it would be harder.”
“No wonder you sound so smug.”
“Do I sound smug?” he asked. “Must be the scarf. It’s very cozy, and it smells like flowers.”
I laughed. “I’m glad you found it. It was a gift from my brother, and I hate to lose things.”
“I figured.”
“So can I come by the bar to get it or…?”
“Sure,” he said. “How about Friday?”
“Friday?”
“Yeah,” he said. “Seems a reasonable day to meet at a bar.”
“True.”
“Plus, then you can buy me that drink you owe me for saving the day.”
