Josh and Gemma Make a Baby(15)

Ian steps up to me, a martini in one hand and a sparkling water in the other.

He hands me the water with a smile.

“Cheers.”

“Cheers.” I raise my water to him and take a drink.

“I enjoyed your presentation today.”

I blush and glance at him over the rim of my water. “Thank you. I worked hard on it.”

Outside Ian’s office the lights flicker off. Lavinia has left for the day. She’s usually the last one out. Ian looks at the darkened space beyond the glass walls of his office then he looks back to me.

“You’ve worked here for six years.”

Oh. Here it comes. The “you’re fired” bit. I nod. “Seven next month.”

What will happen to me if I lose my job? Right now, my health insurance covers fertility treatments, but if I lose my job, then I won’t be able to pay for them. What then? Will my dream of having a baby with IVF end a day after it began?

Just as I’m about to rush into an explanation of why Ian shouldn’t fire me, and why I love this job, and why it would be a mistake to let me go, he says, “Would you like to have dinner?”

Huh?

“Excuse me?”

He gives me a boyish smile that shows off the dimple on his chin. “Dinner. You. Me.”

“Dinner?” I shake my head and try to do a mental three-sixty. “I thought you were going to fire me.”

Ian chuckles. “Why would I fire you? You’re the reason the last six of my online seminars went viral.”

Well, that’s true.

Relief washes over me. I’m not getting fired. No one but Ian saw the bra and boob show on the conference call. I get to keep my job.

And speaking of my job, is this a work dinner or is Ian asking me out on a date?

This is probably a work dinner. Most definitely…probably…definitely a work dinner.

Although it might be a date.

But the thing is, I can’t start dating Ian when I’m preparing to undergo IVF and have a baby. Except. Unless. Maybe, this is fate. Like Ian says, “Fate finds you when you least expect it.”

There’s only one way to find out if this is a work dinner or if it’s the hand of fate.

“I’d love to have dinner with you.”





It was a date.

And, we had wild, amazing, mind-blowing sex.

Okay, fine, the mind-blowing sex was in my imagination—played out in vivid detail while we ate steaming bowls of bibimbap and talked about the future of Ian Fortune, Live Your Best Life Starting Now Enterprises.

But, yes, it was a date.





8





I spent the last seven days in a state of euphoria. I felt like one of those anime characters with my feet floating inches above the ground and stars in my eyes. Ian “accidentally” met me at the little coffee stand outside the building six times in the past week. We had take-out sushi when we both stayed late at the office one night. And another time he stopped the elevator, brushed my hair back and pushed aside my cardigan “just to check” that I was wearing his favorite bra.

He also sent juicy chats and inspirational messages written just for me.

Like, even the worst days are better for having you in them.

And, I didn’t realize what was right in front of me all this time.

Or, I’ve been waiting for you so long.

I know.

I know I said that I don’t need a man to make my dreams come true. And I don’t. I’m pursuing my dream of a family with or without a man. But, after my divorce and diagnosis of infertility, I found Ian’s website, and his quotes were like a lifeline. When I started working for him I realized he’s as amazing as his quotes. I’ve had a thing for him for seven years. He saved me from a load of pain and now he’s taking me out to sushi and meeting me for coffee. How can I not live in this moment and enjoy it for what it is?

Today is a great day. Every day is a great day.

I’ve spent most of the past six hours going over web traffic and lead generation, mixed with covert glances at Ian’s office. I have a hunch that Lavinia knows something is going on. She’s been sending me the stink eye more than usual. And the last time I came back to my desk with a coffee, exactly two minutes after Ian came back inside, she sniffed at me then sniped that I ought to water the drooping plants.

When my vision starts to go fuzzy from looking at my computer screen for too long, I log off. I grab my purse from under my desk, slip on my wool coat and wrap my scarf around my neck. Lavinia looks over and purses her lips.

“I’m going to pop down to the coffee stand in case anyone swings by asking for me.” Then, because it’s a great day, “Need anything?”

Lavinia looks past me to Ian’s glass-walled office then back to me. “No. But dump the shredder on the way out. You’ve filled it up again.”

I haven’t. I don’t print paper. Lavinia, middle-aged tree killer, has filled it up.

“Sure, no problem,” I say.

Not even Lavinia’s mood or dumping five pounds of shredder paper in the recycling room can dim my happy mood. I ride the elevator down twelve floors and walk through the marble-floored lobby toward the wall of glass doors.

Then I step out of the heated office building onto the slush-covered sidewalk. To be honest, Midtown New York during winter is one of the uglier sites in the world. The ground is covered in black and brown slush and melting snow, crunchy salt pellets, trash bags piled high, and random splotches of yellow snow from dogs peeing on the curb. But today, I don’t notice the dirt or the exhaust-perfumed air, I just see the sliver of bright blue sky and the little glitter of tiny snowflakes floating in the air.