Josh and Gemma Make a Baby(11)

“Thanks, but no thanks,” he says.

And the way he says it reminds me of Greg Butkis, and how he said no to the idea of me as well. And it reminds me of Mort, and all the Mort-like guys before him.

“It’s alright,” I say. I put my chin up. “Sorry I bothered you.”

Josh lifts his hand, extends it to span the foot between us. His fingers hover an inch above my arm. I shiver at the heat coming off of him. Then, he shakes off whatever he’s thinking and pulls away.

“I won’t say anything to anyone. You don’t have to worry. You can tell your family when you’re ready.”

“Thank you.” Then to make myself feel better I say, “No worries, Josh. Each of us steers our own ship of destiny by following the stars in our heart.”

Josh’s shoulders stiffen, then he turns and walks out the door, shutting it quietly behind him.





5





All the party guests are gathered in the living room. It’s time for the official New Year’s resolution roundup.

Sasha and Colin walk through the room handing out slips of paper and pencils.

Josh is across the room chatting with Dylan. Josh hasn’t looked at me once since I came downstairs in my leggings and sweater. I mean, we don’t usually look at each other, but this time it feels like he’s purposely not looking. I didn’t realize it before, but there’s a big difference between not looking at someone and purposely not looking at someone. It’s like I can feel his total attention even though he hasn’t turned my way.

I guess the benefit of him not watching me is that I can look at him without him noticing. That way I can spend minutes rehashing our conversation with could-have-saids and should-have-saids while I wait for Sasha to give me a pencil and paper.

While I’m watching, Greg Butkis sidles over to Dylan and Josh and cracks a joke. I can’t hear it, but Greg must think it’s funny because he’s laughing, gesturing at his chest and pointing at me.

Ah.

He’s making a joke about me and my barbecue boobs.

I look at Josh to see if he’s smiles or laughs. I imagine he might. After all, I did just embarrass him by asking for his sperm.

But wait. I tilt my head. Josh looks mad, really mad. He says something to Greg which makes Greg stop laughing and scuttle away, back to his mom. Dylan slaps Josh on the back in a bro-buddy gesture.

“Ugh, why is Greg Butkis here? Did Mom invite him for you?” I look over. Leah, my sister, has walked over and perched on the arm of the couch next to me. She’s in a cute sparkly dress and has her hair in a high ponytail. She’s my older sister by six years, but even with the gap we’ve always been close.

She rolls her eyes. “Eff it, Gemma. Eff all men. They’re terrible mother effers, be happy you’re single.”

I look over at Leah. She used to swear like a sailor, but ever since she had kids she says things like “eff it” and “fudge” and “son of a biscuit.”

She takes a long gulp of wine until the entire glass is empty. Then she wipes her mouth and says, “Eff it.”

“What happened?” I ask. My sister usually has the ability to manage her four kids, her husband, and her job, like a circus master juggling monkeys—it looks insane, but she manages it with mad skill.

Her lower lip quivers and she shakes her head and blinks her eyes quickly, like she’s trying not to cry.

“Leah, what?”

She shrugs. “Nothing. Just life. Being a mom of four kids is great, don’t get me wrong, but cherish your single days, Gem. Revel in your bachelorette-hood. Cheese and rice, some days I envy you.” She looks down at her wine glass and seems surprised to find it empty.

“Umm, okay. Here,” I say. I hand her my glass.

She sets her empty glass on the coffee table and accepts mine. Then she takes a long swallow of the white wine.

“You sure you’re alright?”

“I’m fine,” Leah says.

Colin and Sasha skip up in front of us and Leah visibly pulls herself together.

“Hey sweethearts,” she says.

“Here you go, Mommy. Auntie Gemma.” Sasha says. Colin hands us pencils and paper slips.

“Thanks, kiddos,” I say.

They skip off.

Because Leah looks so sad, I reach over and put my arms around her. It’s awkward because she’s holding the glass of wine, but I manage.

“Whatever it is, it’ll be okay.” Then I give her one of my favorite Ian quotes, “Everything in life happens for a reason, and it’s always a good reason.”

She gives me a sardonic look, then says, “Someday, Gemma, I think you’re going to find that bull crap quotes can’t make everything better.”

I look at her in shock. “Seriously, are you okay?”

She twirls the wine glass in her hand. “I’m fine. It’s just I know you believe there’s always a bright side, but I don’t think that’s true.”

“Of course it is,” I say automatically. “Of course there’s always a bright side.”

She shrugs. “Maybe.” Then she glances across the room at her kids, laughing and bringing around the bowl for everyone to drop their New Year’s resolutions into.

She draws in a deep breath. “Let’s write our resolutions, shall we? I’m going to take dance lessons. Alone time with Oliver. Romance.”