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“Yeah, I think so.” Oliver, Ian, and I went for a trail ride Sunday morning, and Ian headed back to Houston after lunch, but I purposefully sound ignorant. “Where’s your nine o’clock?”
“She texted. She’s running late. Great start to the day, huh?”
“Exactly. I rescheduled my Saturday no-show for this morning, so my day’s gonna be crazed, too.” I schedule client appointments on Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday, but clients who’ve been with you for years expect flexibility. So much for reserving Tuesday solely for office management. I click open a spreadsheet to get to it.
Kara takes the hint and heads out of my office, but I feel her inquisitive gaze on me the entire time I tap away on my keyboard. She pauses at the doorway and tosses her hair over her shoulder. Those long, loose curls cascade in waves down her back. “You know, you should’ve held out for Ian. Or Oliver. They’re both hotter than Sam by orders of magnitude. Of course, Sam is the billionaire, so…” She angles her head back and forth as if weighing the men. “I suppose you aimed for the biggest fish. Human nature.” She shrugs. “It’s not like you have a crystal ball and could see you were wasting your time on Sam and the smaller fish would end up being much tastier.”
“Can you not talk about them like that? They’re my friends.” She gives me a look that says she isn’t buying what I’m selling, and it really kind of pisses me off. “They’re like family. And, for the umpteenth time, I wasn’t aiming to bag the billionaire. He was a broke college student when I dated him.”
“You know, I always forget about that. You broke up with him after he dropped out of college, right? He must’ve seemed like such a loser back then.”
I grit my teeth and breathe in deeply for calm. “Sam dropped out of MIT because he had an idea he believed in.”
“Sandra, you know, it’s okay to bash on your ex. Really, it is. You might feel better if you do.” She nods with all of the authority of Gen Z.
“Kara…” Exasperated, I can’t even finish. I’m her boss and want to tell her that she needs to adjust how she speaks to me, the boss, but there’s just no way to get it out without sounding like a bitch, and the last thing I want is a negative workplace vibe.
Thankfully, the outer door chimes, announcing her client. She wiggles her fingers at me, flashing her impressive ombre nails.
I can’t blame her for dredging up Sam Duke from time to time. Since reaching the elusive billionaire status, he’s become our small town’s most notorious former citizen. If we had royalty, he’d hands down be the king of Whispering Creek. I suppose if someone like Matthew McConnaughey had been from our town, he’d probably be more infamous. But while our little alcove of a town lacks a Hollywood connection, we do have a whiz kid who created a business most people don’t even understand and made a mint. And given the fact said newly minted billionaire grew up on one of the few working ranches remaining in our section of suburban sprawl and was one of three hot, sexy brothers, of course the whole town fixates on him. Lucky me, I happen to be the last local girl to have dated him. Actually, the only local girl who dated him. Almost twenty years later, folks around here haven’t forgotten, and I truly don’t know if they ever will. You’d think we were Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston.
One thing Kara did get right is that I would’ve been better off to have waited for the youngest Duke. But how could I have known that? How could I have known the scrawny teen with acne and buck teeth would grow into a fit, focused surgeon who can also line dance and remembers birthdays?
Here’s the thing about hindsight. People say it’s twenty-twenty, but really, that’s because all the details are vague and muted when looking backward. When you’re looking forward, into the future, all the details are technicolor and emotions are clear. And back in high school, I’d been insanely attracted to Sam Duke. His presence meant an overload of butterflies and the inability to process thought. And then, I honestly don’t know what happened. People want a heart-wrenching drama story, but that’s not what happened with us. We simply grew apart. The butterflies disappeared. We had nothing in common and nothing to talk about. The distance meant we saw each other like twice a year at a time in our lives when we were evolving at warp speed. And yes, Ian had been my friend, but let’s be real. Six years is a big age difference when you’re in college and he’s in junior high. Now, at forty, sure, six years is nothing, but back then, that age difference was prosecutable.
If I could go back and do it all over, starting at, say, sixteen when I went out on that first date with Sam, I’d do it all the same. Because I followed my heart. That’s what teenage girls do. And we don’t have crystal balls. And our hearts can lead us astray. It’s all part of life’s journey.
As Ian said, life doesn’t have to be perfect to be wonderful. Which leads me back to my situation with Ian. Ian isn’t offering a storybook ending. He’s offering to give me his sperm. Sure, for years I said I wanted to focus on growing my business and I didn’t need a man or a family. And I do not need a man. I really, truly do not. But I’d really love to have a baby.
And if I’m honest with myself, at this point in my life, there’s no one I would rather have a child with than Ian Duke. Now, yes, in an ideal world, we’d be madly in love and married. But in this world, we’re not madly in love. I mean, yeah, I am attracted to him. A girl would have to be blind not to be. But he’s not looking for a relationship, and neither am I.
If we are able to conceive a child, we’d most definitely have to keep the true parentage under wraps. Lordy, I can only imagine all the gossip our baby agreement would stir. Kara and her cohort would have yet another reason to look at me with blatant sad eyes, thinking I tried to snag me another Duke and failed. Yeah…that little fact right there is one reason to stick with a truly anonymous donor.
The chime on the door sounds, and I enter the salon to greet my client. She removes her sunglasses, and I instantly place her. She’s dressed for a facial. No make-up, hair pulled back, and she’s in leggings, a tee, and sneakers. “Barbara? It’s been ages.”
“Well, I moved away after college. We moved back about a year ago. I’ve been meaning to schedule forever, and then I scheduled so far in advance I forgot all about it. I’m so sorry about that.” Barbara’s mother is one of my regular clients.
“No worries. You’re here now.” Barbara follows me down the hall to the private treatment room. “We’re doing a luxury facial today, right?”
“Or, well, whatever you think my skin needs.”
“We’ll take a look.”
Barbara is around ten years younger than me, but I know her through her mother. She used to come in and get her hair done at the salon, but she wasn’t my client. After I get her situated, her arms rest outside the spa blanket and an enormous set of diamond rings glisten on her left ring finger.
Barbara’s an attractive woman, but she has dark, puffy circles below her eyes, plus the beginnings of fine lines around her eyes and nasolabial area. She lets out a deep sigh and visibly relaxes with each cleansing swipe on her skin.
“That feels so good.”
“You seem tense.” I brush upward, massaging as I go. “Are you tired?”
“Stressed. I got into law school.”
“Congratulations.”
“Thanks.”
Satisfied with the cleanliness of her skin, I dab a cotton ball on the toner.
