The Knocked Up Plan(40)

“It’s the frosting that’s making you happy. Let’s give credit where credit’s due.” I try to make light of things, but she won’t have it.

“It’s you. It’s completely you,” she says, leveling me with her intense eyes. “But the frosting is really good, too.”

I clear my throat. “When do we start up again?” I don’t want to sound too eager, but I could seriously screw her every night.

She looks at an imaginary watch. “Ten days?”

“You have ten-day periods?”

She shudders in mock horror. Or perhaps real horror. “God, no. I’m just thinking that’s about when we head into the fertility zone again.”

“Right. Got it.” I snap my fingers in an aw shucks gesture. “I was hoping you’d say ten hours. Wait. Ten minutes.”

“You have no idea what I would give for a ten-minute period. I’d give up frosting.” After another bite of her cupcake, she pushes the plate aside and her expression shifts. “I want to ask you something.”

“You want more than my boys? Want a liver and a side of kidney, too? Sheesh. You’re demanding.”

She laughs but quickly stifles the sound. “I don’t know exactly how to broach this, so I’m going to be blunt.”

“Ah, unlike all the other times you’ve asked me something,” I tease, even as my shoulders tense. It’s a gut reaction—when people say they need to broach a topic, it’s often one you don’t want to hear.

She smiles faintly. “I’m not exactly known for beating around the bush. But I realized there’s an important item we didn’t entirely discuss.”

I wait for her to continue.

“I hope you know I’m not sleeping with anyone else,” she says.

I flinch. “You better not be.”

“Trust me, you wear me out. And I suppose it should be obvious that for the purpose of this arrangement, there’s no way in hell I’d sleep with anyone else. It’s not something I’d do under any circumstances. Still, since we’ve been so direct from the start, I thought it best to make it clear that I am not dating, seeing, sleeping with, kissing, or getting involved with anyone else in any way, shape, or form. I don’t know if it’s reasonable for me to expect you to be exclusive to me when we’re in the middle of this project,” she says, taking a beat, “but I’m sincerely hoping you’re—”

I can’t even let her finish. I hold up a hand as a stop sign. “My ex-wife cheated on me seven times. I will never touch anyone else while I’m with you.”

Her eyebrows shoot into her hairline. She mouths wow.

“Pretty shitty, huh?”

A long nod is her answer. “That’s pretty much the definition of shitty. And part of me wants to ask how anyone could cheat on you? But that makes the cheating about you when it’s about her and the horrible choices she made.”

Relief floods me. The times I’ve told people, I hear how they’re sorry, how it sucks, or disbelief that someone could do what Maggie did. But Nicole gets it. Maggie’s crime isn’t a reflection on me. It’s a reflection on Maggie. “She made a lot of bad choices because she’s a sex addict. And I don’t mean that in an ‘Oh, cool, she’s a nympho’ way. It’s not that she wanted to screw constantly. She was addicted to affairs. She craved the chase. She wanted to reel in a new man, over and over. She needed constant affirmation, and she sought it by finding other people.”

Nicole sighs heavily, her brow knitting. “Did she seek therapy? Is she trying to change?”

I shrug. “I think so. She tried to convince me to stay while she went to rehab. But I didn’t want to be with her. And I had no interest in giving her another chance even when she begged me to.”

“I can certainly understand that. I wouldn’t have, either.”

“The funny thing is, you asked about that zing. About being in love. Obviously, I was in love with her, since I married her. But let me tell you, falling out of love was the easiest thing in the world. She made it a complete piece of cake since I can’t love a cheater.”

Nicole nods, her tone serious as she says, “Addiction or not, you don’t break a vow.”

“It’s so simple. Fidelity is so goddamn simple. You keep it in your pants. Case closed.” I take a beat and stare into her eyes. “You can count on me to be faithful. I don’t have any desire to be with anyone else, and I also won’t do that.”

“You don’t miss dating?” she asks like she feels bad for holding me back.

“What is this thing we’re on? Chopped liver?”

“You know what I mean. A date that goes somewhere.”

For a second, I linger on the somewhere. I start to imagine I’m on the path to somewhere with Nicole. Somewhere beyond cupcakes and Knicks games. But that’s probably just all the frosting and sugar going to my head.

“Our dates go to your bedroom,” I say with confidence. “This is about as perfect as dating gets.”

“Good.” She gives me a sly smile. “By the way, do you know what shark week means?”

“No sex?” I say, adopting the mopiest look ever.

“Let’s get out of here, and I’ll show you.”