The Knocked Up Plan(24)

I swing my gaze to Nicole, more than a hundred feet away. “Definitely a great first date,” I tell Mitch.

He gives me a toothy grin. “All right. You’ll need to hop on then go upside down.”

Once I grab hold of the bar, Mitch barks, “Safe to go.”

I step off the platform and whoosh. I’m fucking flying. It’s as thrilling as it was the first time I did it tonight.

“Feet up,” he calls out as the swing arcs. I lift my feet up and hook them over the bar, and then Mitch calls out, “Arms free.”

I drop my arms below me, hanging on with my legs. This is like the loop on a whip-fast rollercoaster. Everything is a fast rush as the world flips into a topsy-turvy blur.

Callie shouts instructions at Nicole, who swings at me.

“Let her build up speed,” Mitch yells.

I give a thumbs-up as I arc closer.

From my vantage point, speeding upside down, I don’t take my eyes off my date. Nicole moves like a monkey, and in mere seconds, she’s switching from hanging by her hands on the bar to holding steady with her feet hooked over it.

“Hands catch,” the instructors shout in their shorthand as Nicole soars to me, her red hair in a long ponytail below her, her arms reaching for me. I stretch out my arms, hands ready. Closer, closer, and here she is.

For a brief moment, nerves spike inside me. But I shove aside hair-raising images of what could go wrong, and do what I have to do. I grab hold of her hands, and she takes mine.

Her neon laughter lights up the sky as she calls out, “Yes, oh my God!”

I’ve caught her, and I’m the only thing between her and the net. I grip her tight as she swings once beneath me, then she lets go, dropping to the net, the harness giving her a bouncy, soft landing.

It’s not the first time tonight I hope to hear her say oh my God.



“A-may-zing,” she says as we pile into our waiting Lyft ride outside the trapeze school.

“I’m sure Cal will be pleased that his first idea for this crazy assignment turned out to be a good time.”

“I didn’t just have a good time,” she says, shaking her head as I pull the door shut.

I arch a brow, curious. “No?”

“I had the best time,” she corrects. “And you can take that to the bank. Let all your listeners and readers know that trapeze lessons are a big win.”

Maybe I won’t get canned. I breathe a sigh of relief as the driver heads uptown. “Tell me why you liked it so much. What makes it a great date for the woman?”

She tilts her head, considering. “It’s different from the usual, you know?” Her eyes are serious. “And different is good. It gets you out of your comfort zone.”

“Out of the coffee, dinner, dates, this-is-so-fucking-boring-sometimes zone?”

“Exactly. You have to trust someone to do something like this. Sure, we have harnesses, but going for a trapeze lesson says the man is willing to put himself in an unusual position. After all, you were upside down.”

“It was definitely a new vantage point.”

Her eyes grow more animated. “And see, I think that helps two people connect. It helps for the woman to see the man can be strong but vulnerable.”

I nod as I take in her assessment. It makes a hell of a lot of sense. “Damn, you’re brilliant. That’s exactly what Cal wants me to talk about in my”—I stop to sketch air quotes to show what I think of Cal’s plans—“dating guide.”

But Nicole doesn’t let it go. Her eyes pin me with an intense look. “But did you feel that way, Ryder? I loved it, and it felt freeing. Did you feel like it would be a good first date for a man trying to romance a woman?”

Romance. I shudder at that word and all its implications. I romanced Maggie like I was a fucking hero in a novel, pulling out all the stops, sending her not only the lilies she adored, but her favorite artisanal butter for the pastries she made. We kissed at the fountain at Lincoln Center after a ballet she wanted to see; we strolled through the farmers’ market in Union Square hand in hand as she shopped. I rolled out the red carpet for her, and she loved it all, and that’s why it was so fun to treat her that way.

In return, she treated me like gum on the bottom of her shoe.

I could answer Nicole with starkness and say, I don’t really care anymore about romancing a woman.

But she deserves more than that. “For most men, yes, I suspect it would be a great start to romance. And for me, I had a hell of a good time with you.”

Nicole doesn’t balk at my honest assessment. Instead, she nudges me with her elbow. “Good thing we can be so scientific about this, right?”

I laugh, relieved that we don’t have to tread more seriously on this topic. I adopt my radio announcer voice. “Gentlemen, tonight we conducted a highly scientific study of dates in New York City, and we’ve concluded that the flying trapeze is an excellent jumpstart to romance.”

Nicole jumps in. “If you play your cards right, by the end of the evening her heart will be topsy-turvy for you. You might even land a first kiss.” She winks at me and whispers, “But I’m pretty confident you’re a sure thing.”

That’s because the sex is guaranteed in ink. It’s sex with a contract, outlined in legalese. The last week has been consumed by paperwork for our arrangement. First, I showed her my health records—a clean bill of health and no STDs. Same for her. Then, the more formal agreement. My lawyer checked the contract for me. It’s everything Nicole proposed. Sex for the sole purpose of procreation. If she conceives, I owe her nothing. That’s the bottom line. No expectations. No future payments. In return, I won’t ask for anything, either. No parental rights. Nothing at all.