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I stare at her agape. “Have you been drinking Kool Aid again?”
She laughs. “If only.”
“Seriously, Layla, this isn’t helping. The only thing Fynn is nuts about is bedding as many women as he can… not that I care. But if a baby were to be involved, would he get to be a part-time playboy one week, and loving father the next? I don’t think so.” I lower my voice. “And for the record, if I were considering him to be thefather of my children,I wouldn’t be sleeping with him! We’d be doing it all properly, through the proper channels. Not as…fuck buddies.”
“But the old fashioned way is a lot cheaper, and saves on the paperwork. Screw the proper channels!”
I choke on my coffee. When I recover from my coughing fit, I throw my screwed-up wrapper at her head. It bounces off and she laughs.
“That isn’t even funny.”
She starts to fan herself. “I want to know exactly what he said.”
“No,” I reply. “This isn’t some freaking fantasy where Fynn is the big macho hero. He threw his weight around and said things he can’t take back.”
“Like he wanted to put his baby in you?” She gives me a pointed look.
I poke at my lunch, not feeling one bit hungry. “Amongst other things, yes.”
“Sage, he must still have feelings for you. Nobody would say something like that if they didn’t. And think about it, if he hit the roof, then that’s saying a hell of a lot. He’s jealous. He doesn’t want another man touching you.”
“Because he decides? That’s exactly my point.”
“But under normal circumstances, if Fynn wasn’t a playboy, then this isn’t a terrible idea.”
“I know, but this is Fynn.”
“You’re only saying that because you think he’s slept with half of Boston.”
“I don’t think it, Iknowit. What kind of example would he be setting for our non-existent child? Not a very good one.”
She pats me on the arm. “You so need to get laid, and I don’t necessarily mean with him. How long has it been, honey?”
I swallow hard and look away.
It’s been ten years.
Ten years without a man in my bed. Not that I’d ever admit that to anyone.
As the years have gone on, it’s been abundantly clear to me that I have to have a connection with a man to be able to sleep with him. And I just haven’t felt it.
I don’t go out.
I don’t meet men.
And I can’t even blame my job, which has been crazy these last few years. I’ve put off putting myself out there, even a couple of years ago when I really started to feel my maternal instincts setting in. I dated a lot, but that’s all it was. Dates that led nowhere.
“Ten years,” I whisper. “But it feels like a lot longer, believe me.”
She gives me a sympathetic look. “I just want you to look at this from all angles, that’s all. Don’t dismiss it because of what you think you know about him. What do you actually know?”
“That he’s an asshat?”
She sighs. “And? That he also has other redeeming qualities. Like the ones I stated.”
Clearly, this is not helping. It sounds like Layla is taking his side. Not that there are sides, since this isn’t open for debate.
“Okay, so here’s the worst part,” I say bravely. I look around again, making sure we’re not being overhead. “I actually considered it, for a fleeting moment.”
