The Knocked Up Plan(37)

“Only if it’s weird that I’m kind of bummed, too,” he says, then he drops a kiss to my forehead. Tingles spread everywhere—all over my body, to the tips of my toes and the ends of my hair.

“Do that again,” I command as the world falls away and all I feel are his lips, his tenderness, and his warmth.

“As you wish.” He kisses me, soft and gentle, as I lie on his bed in Chelsea, praying to the goddesses of fertility that a piece of him is mixing with a part of me tonight to make a whole new person.





Eighteen





Nicole

The leaves crackle beneath my sneakers, and the cool fall air nips at my cheeks. California is lovely, but it’s good to be back in New York after eight days away. The city is glorious in early autumn, and Central Park is a carnival of burnished-gold, cranberry-red, and pumpkin-orange leaves. Fall is blazing, bursting with shades of fire on all the branches in the trees—one last cornucopia of color before winter chills the city.

I inhale a crisp lungful of air as we jog on a late Sunday morning in early October. This is the perfect weather for running. This is the perfect weather for learning your life is about to change.

“Are you going to take the test soon?” Delaney asks.

I nod as Ruby tugs on the leash. “Definitely. As long as my period doesn’t come today, I’ll take the test tomorrow morning.”

Penny lets out a little cheer as we round the top of the reservoir. “Can we all join you?”

“Sure. We’ll have a pee-pee party at my place tomorrow at six a.m.”

“You’re going to take it the second you wake up, right?” Delaney says, her tone serious. “First morning pee and all.”

“Absolutely.” I’m a font of knowledge on all things pregnancy related. I’ve researched every last detail on when to take the test, and I’ve bought three kinds from Duane Reade.

“And your periods are regular, right?” Penny asks.

“Twenty-eight days. On the dot. I usually get it in the middle of the night on the twenty-eighth day, and I didn’t last night.” I cross my fingers. I’ve got an extra spring in my step from Aunt Flo’s apparent lack of appearance.

Penny gasps in excitement.

“That’s a good sign, right?” I ask. “That I didn’t get it?”

They say yes in unison.

I can’t mask my excitement. “Maybe it’s crazy, but I felt a little nauseated, too. And don’t laugh. But—”

Delaney jumps in. “Your boobs totally look bigger.”

I pump a fist and raise my gaze to the sky. “She noticed the girls, Lord. Hallelujah, she noticed the girls.”

We jog for another thirty minutes then slow to a walk as we amble to a park exit. “How did it go, though? The sex and all? Tell us everything now that you’re back,” Penny says. I haven’t seen them in nearly two weeks, though I did share text updates.

I wiggle my eyebrows. “It’s amazing. He’s a god in bed.”

Penny happily sighs. “I love good sex.”

Delaney raises a fist for bumping. “Good sex rocks.”

“Bad sex can suck it,” Penny seconds.

I raise a finger to make a point. “Bad sex should be eradicated from the world.”

“Let’s make an ordinance outlawing it,” Delaney suggests.

Penny tuts. “But how would we ever know something is amazing unless we experience the bad stuff? Or even just the completely lame sex?”

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.”