The Knocked Up Plan(54)

Just because I might want more right now doesn’t mean I can expect it.

Later, when I go home, I let myself linger once more on that wild idea of Ryder sharing this with me. Then I dismiss it, because the sky fills with dark clouds, as if agreeing with me that nothing good can come of it.





Twenty-Eight





Ryder

I see it from one hundred feet away.

Adrenaline takes over as Simone crashes on the slope, a hot pink blur tumbling around the curve in the run.

Jamming my poles into the packed snow, I ski as quickly as I can to her, stopping abruptly and bending to offer a hand. “You okay, sweetie?”

She winces but nods bravely. “Just a crash. I’m fine.”

I breathe a huge sigh of relief. “Are you sure?”

She looks at me, and even with the ski goggles on, I can see her brown eyes twinkle. She laughs. “I fell on my butt, and you’re freaking out.”

I am.

She’s right.

I’m completely freaking out.

I huff and act indignant, going with it. “Oh, that’s nice. Make fun of the caring, considerate uncle.”

“It’s cute. You’re sweet,” she says and takes my hand as I yank her up. “I’m totally fine. Falling is normal.”

“It still worries me when I see you do it, especially since you’re my responsibility.”

Devon and Paul are racing the black diamonds today, so Simone and I have tackled the easy to medium runs. She’s a snowboarder, and I prefer to kick it old-school on skis. This is our ski weekend trip over the Martin Luther King Jr. holiday. We already skied during Christmas and had an absolute blast.

In the last few weeks, I’ve spent more time with Simone and Devon on the weekends than usual, grabbing any chance I can to join them for ski trips, movies, and dinners out. I was so damn occupied in the fall that if I don’t keep busy now, I’ll be like one of those lonely lions in a cage at the zoo, pacing back and forth all day long.

Simone pretends to whisper, “Since I’m your responsibility, do you want to sneak off and get a hot chocolate?”

“I love the way you think. But let’s make it down the hill first.”

She nods, as she readjusts herself on her board. “Race ya.”

She pushes off, shushing down the slope with ease, and I follow as I’ve done the whole day, watching as I go. I don’t let her out of my sight. Lately, I’ve felt even more protective of her. Every time something might happen to her, my heart feels as if it’s beating outside my body. The other day when I walked her to art class in the city, I kept her even closer to my side when we neared the crosswalk. That’s just smart in New York, of course. But I was like a fucking hawk the way I kept my eye on her.

That evening after the day on the slopes, my brother and I hang in the lodge while Paul and Simone get ready for dinner back in the cabin.

Devon lifts his glass of Scotch and takes a drink as we lounge in big wooden chairs by a roaring fire. “I’ve been meaning to tell you about a woman we chatted with while skiing.”

“You chatted with a woman? Has hell frozen over?”

He rolls his eyes. “We shared a fucking chair lift with her, dickhead.”

“Oh. For a second I thought you were switching to my team.”

“The likelihood of that is about the same as you switching to my team.”

“About a ten million below zero chance?”

Devon winks. “You got it. Also, I talk to women all the time, on account of not being a sexist asshole.”

I raise my glass. “Good point.”

“Anyway, this woman was fun, smart, and I suppose she was pretty, if you like that sort of thing.”

“Pretty ladies are definitely my sort of thing,” I say, sticking out my tongue and flicking it at him.

He gazes at the ceiling. “Why do I bother to help him?”

I rub my ear. “I’m sorry, did I need help for something?”

“Yes,” Devon says adamantly, leveling me with his big brother stare. “Do you want me to invite her to dinner so you can meet her?”

I nearly choke on my whiskey. “Are you setting me up?”

This is so not my brother.

“I’m trying to. It’s been more than a year since Maggie, and you and Nicole are done with your project, so it seems like a good time.”

“I just never thought you had any matchmaking bones in your body.”

Devon waves me off. “Forget I said it.”

I lean forward in the chair. “No, seriously. I appreciate it. But . . . I don’t know.”

He takes a swig of his drink. “You’re not ready to date yet?”

I drag a hand across my jaw as I sigh. His assessment is spot on. “That sounds right.”

“Maggie, still?”

I don’t answer him at first. I take a swallow of the whiskey, letting it burn in my chest while the fire warms my back. There was a time not so long ago when I would have answered quickly with a yes. But my ex-wife isn’t front and center in my mind anymore. She might still be my roadblock, my “danger ahead” sign. But she’s not preventing me from wanting to go on a date.

Someone else very much is, and she doesn’t even know it. She doesn’t even know what she’s done to me. I barely comprehend it myself. “No. It’s not about Maggie.”