The Knocked Up Plan(42)

I tug Ruby closer as we leave the park. “Good point. You need the lows to savor the highs.”

Delaney furrows her brow, considering this. “If all sex was great, would we become numb to it? I’m not sure I would.”

“No, but I think to appreciate that something is out-of-this-world good, we need to have experienced the bad.”

“True. I’m just glad that all the sex I’m having is good,” Delaney says. “And I’m glad you’re having crazy good sex. Are you guys truly able to manage this whole deal without any weirdness or feelings?”

“Absolutely,” I say with a tight nod, flashing back to all my conversations with Ryder about our arrangement, even the one from the other night in his home, right as the window was slamming shut on the fertile time of the month. “Honestly, I’m kind of impressed with us. We were able to treat it completely like a transaction.”

Penny does a little dance, gyrating her hips as Shortcake barks at her. My friend smacks her own rear. “It’s a transaction, all right.”

“He’s making a deposit,” Delaney says in a singsong voice.

I pat my belly. “In the bank of me.”

The three of us laugh, amused at our own bawdy cleverness.

“But seriously.” Delaney prods again. “You were able to keep everything separate? Emotions and all?”

I answer her as if I’ve been asked the question at a job interview, my tone professional and steady. “It wasn’t that hard. We’re both good at this. He’s not looking for anything more, and I’m not looking for anything but his—”

“Deposits,” Penny cuts in.

“Let me tell you, when that man goes to the ATM, he goes there,” I say. “He gets that money in so deep, so far, and he delivers it all the way to the bank.”

High fives abound, and Penny rubs my belly as we stop at a crosswalk. “I’m tempted to kiss your belly for luck, but that’s totally weird. Also, I think we need to get in the habit now of patting your belly.”

“Pat it. You can feel up my belly as much as you want for the next nine months.”

As we say good-bye and I walk the rest of the way home, those words play over and over in my head.

Nine months, nine months, nine months.

I intend to enjoy every single second of every day of them.

By that night, I am still blissfully period-free. I wash my face and loop my hair into a ponytail. I open the closet door all the way and appraise my appearance in front of the full-length mirror. I stand sideways, considering my breasts, my legs, my hips, and most of all, my flat belly. I run my hand over my middle. I swear I can feel something happening. Like my mom said, maybe you just know. I clasp both hands on my stomach, lace my fingers together, and send a wish to the universe to take care of the baby I hope is growing inside me.

I turn off the lights and fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.

When I wake on Monday morning, it’s as if I’ve been shot full of anticipation, and nerves, too. Everything feels different.

When a tongue slobbers up my cheek, I remember that I’m not the only one who has to pee. Ruby licks my face again, and that’s my cue to toss off the covers, tug on some sweats, and leash her up. I have to go, too, but I can hold it for five minutes while she does her business. I want to be able to savor the moment when I see those two pink lines. Then, I can spend the rest of my morning calling the whole world. Well, just my mom and my girls and that man who made it possible. I’d tell them, but no one else.

I pull on a fleece, grab a plastic bag, and leave. After a quick trip around the block, I race back up the stairs to my apartment.

When I unhook Ruby’s leash, I pat the side of my leg, her cue to follow. My loyal girl trots behind me as I head to the bathroom. My new plunger is parked next to the toilet, nice and pristine. I grab the test box and read the instructions for the twentieth time, even though I’ve memorized them. But I don’t want to mess this up.

I’m ready for the news.

I’m ready to head down the path to motherhood.

I’m ready to go this alone.

I inhale deeply, pull down my panties, and I see blood.

I freeze.

And a whole new emotion washes over me.

Foolishness.

I’ve never felt like a bigger fool in my life. Tears leak down my face. I can’t believe I let myself get so carried away. I can’t believe I let myself think it would be easy.





Nineteen





Ryder

As I round the corner, I check my messages again. Still no word from Nicole, and I know today is the day. I stuff the phone into my back pocket, reasoning that can only mean good news. She’s probably caught up in the excitement. I bet she cabbed it to her mom’s house already and they’re shopping for baby blankets or maternity clothes. Does it make me a complete dick if maternity clothes give me the willies?