In a New York Minute(36)

“Not yet. It’s still early,” she added, “so we’re not telling many people. You should be freakin’ honored to be in such an exclusive group.”

I fist-pumped to show my enthusiasm. But my mind was also racing through everything Eleanor had coming up this year. Our big move, possible new clients, wedding planning with Henry. And now, a kid. Her life was chugging ahead, checking boxes I thought I’d have filled by now. I felt a pang of envy and sadness mixed in with the joy.

“Congrats, man,” I said to Henry as he motioned for me to follow him into the kitchen. “You’re going to be the coolest dad in all five boroughs.”

Henry laughed and then paused in thought. “Yeah, you might actually be right.” He took the wine out of my hands, sticking it on the counter next to a giant colander. “Change of menu tonight. Eleanor can’t stand the thought of chicken right now, so I’m making spaghetti, with a nice arrabbiata sauce for us. Hers is gonna be plain.”

“You know I can hear you, Chef!” Eleanor shouted from the living room, just a few feet away.

“I’ll crack this open,” Henry said, grabbing a corkscrew out of a drawer. “If you could bring this to my lovely fiancée.”

He passed me a glass of purple liquid.

“Gatorade,” he muttered, his voice low. “This is the only flavor she can stomach.”

“Again, I can hear you,” Eleanor called. “Pregnancy has given me endless nausea but also supersonic hearing.”

“I love you!” Henry replied, turning back toward the bubbling pot on the stove.

I wandered into the living room, Gatorade in hand.

“Hayes,” she groaned, now lying flat on her back with a pile of crackers on her stomach. “I’m sorry I went and got pregnant right before our big office move.”

“How dare you,” I said dryly with a smile. “How far along are you?”

“Almost eight weeks. The barfing started just a few days ago.” She gagged a little as she said it.

“Eleanor,” I said, my voice gentle as I sat back down. “This is huge. The work stuff will figure itself out.”

I said the words for myself as much as for her. We’d figure it out. We always did. But it still left a small ripple of nerves in my gut.

“I know,” she said, tilting her head toward me in a smile. “And I am excited.”

“For our move, or for the baby?”

“Oh my god, I hate you.” She tossed a saltine at me to prove her point. I popped it in my mouth.

“Does it change your wedding plans at all?” There had been talk of a destination wedding when they’d first gotten engaged. Something about their favorite vacation spot on a remote beach in Sayulita.

“Yeah, we’ll either move up the date or postpone. Keep it small, maybe. And definitely do it in New York now.”

“Well, you’ll get to be the first person at Arbor to try out our parental-leave policy,” I said.

“Six months!” she cheered, raising her fists triumphantly. When Eleanor and I had sat down together at a Starbucks in Chelsea four years ago to brainstorm what our own firm would look like, one of the first things we landed on was that we wanted to give employees lots of time off for big life changes, fully paid. I felt a twinge of excitement at the realization that we had actually made it happen, and then a strange, haunted feeling, wondering if I’d ever get to use it myself.

“Oh, and get this.” She lowered her voice. “Henry offered to move all his gamer crap out of the office so it can be the nursery.” Henry was known for spending late hours shouting into a headset while playing Call of Duty. This was big.

“You know what,” I said, before I could stop myself. “Franny could design it. She was just telling me about a meeting she had with potential clients about doing their nursery.”

Eleanor slowly repeated my words back to me. “She was just…telling…you?”

“We ran into each other the other night.” I rolled my eyes, trying to brush it off as not a big deal. “I walked her to the subway.”

“Wow.” She stuck out her bottom lip, nodded her head. “That’s kinda romantic, you know.”

“It was totally innocent,” I insisted.

“And you didn’t say anything to me about it?” she said, eyeing me inquisitively. Almost like she knew I hadn’t mentioned it on purpose. “Do you two just follow each other around the city, waiting to bump into each other?”

“I guess so,” I muttered. “Her best friend was on a date with Perrine, and we ran into each other.”

She sat up, mouth agape. “Hayes Montgomery the Third, you clearly have a lot you need to tell me.”

I gave her the briefest recap possible and then tried to change subjects by giving her the details of my date with Serena, right down to the photo of our shoes.

“Okay, an Instagram picture is a big deal,” Eleanor said knowingly, looking at it on her phone.

“She said a photo in her Stories wasn’t a big deal,” I said nonchalantly, playing it cool. An Instagram expert, even. After all, I was the one with a viral story under my belt. “It disappears after twenty-four hours.”

“Hayes, you sound like my dad,” she scolded, bursting my bubble. “People are going to notice that she tagged you. And she’s saved it in her Highlights, so anyone can see it anytime.”