Josh and Gemma Make a Baby(23)

“Deal,” I say.

Josh’s mouth is full of pizza but he manages to grin at me.

I pick off a bit of browned cheese and pop it in my mouth. To be honest, there’s something about the way the smell of subway steam, traffic exhaust and city grime mixes with New York pizza to make it insanely delicious. I take a big bite and luxuriate in the flavor.

Josh starts to walk down the sidewalk, heading east. He ambles at a slow enough pace to take bites of the pizza as he walks. I walk next to him and pick the mozzarella off the top, popping it in my mouth.

“The only problem with places like that is there’s nowhere to sit,” I say.

Josh eyes me in surprise. “That’s not a problem. That’s an adventure.”

I raise an eyebrow. “What’s that mean?”

He tucks his drink into his jacket pocket and nods his head at the intersection. “We eat while we walk, and the mission is, we have to find a dessert place before we finish.”

“Seriously? You do this kind of thing often?”

He nods. “Sure. I’m a risk-taker. I eat standing up, sometimes I don’t tie my shoes. It gets me in a lot of trouble.”

I shake my head at him.

“Come on,” he says. “This is what friends do.”

So, we keep walking down the crowded sidewalk. The sky has shifted to the dusky purple of a night filled with city lights. It’s rush hour and we’re close to a subway stop, so the mass of people squeezing against us is even thicker than usual.

“Let’s go this way,” I say and I turn onto a less busy cross street. I take another bite of my pizza. It’s delicious. Really, delicious. Maybe I should eat pizza while walking through the city more often.

Josh seems relaxed. His gait is easy and he’s taking happy bites of his slice. I decide I could broach the more serious topic of what next.

I clear my throat and look around. We’re on a pseudo-residential side street, the light is dim and there aren’t many people around.

“So, I think we should have a contract for what happens next,” I say. I’ve been reading a lot online and it’s what all the experts suggest. It makes sense.

Josh glances at me and lifts an eyebrow.

I shrug. “It’ll keep everything clean. We can sort out whether you want the baby to know you’re the dad. Whether you want visitation rights.”

“Yes, and yes,” Josh says.

I look over at him in surprise.

He shrugs. “I like kids.”

I study him. The sexy, fun-loving, devil-may-care image of him that I have doesn’t exactly mesh with this information. “I didn’t know that,” I admit.

“You don’t know a lot of things about me, Gem.”

He quirks an eyebrow at me in challenge and I bristle, because it’s not like after twenty-four years I haven’t learned a few things.

“I know plenty about you.”

“Really?” he drawls.

We come to another intersection. To the left, I see what looks like an ice cream shop. I turn toward it.

“I know you collect Godzilla models.”

He gives a grunt, like knowing that isn’t anything special.

“I know you like pizza.” I gesture at the nearly finished slices on his grease-stained paper plate.

“You’re failing, Gemma,” he says.

I narrow my eyes at him. “Fine. I know that you have a lot of sex. Like, a lot, a lot.”

He makes a buzzer sound, like the noise you get on a gameshow when you say the wrong answer.

“What does that mean?” I ask.

“It means I’m in a dry spell.”

“Please. Two weeks or whatever doesn’t count as a dry spell.”

“Two years,” he says.

I stop walking and stare at him. Josh turns around and looks at me, and I think there might me a blush on his cheeks, but it could just be the cold.

“Did you say two years? Two years? What happened?”

He shakes his head and says sadly, “I was in a terrible accident. A hot dog vendor cart fell on me in the park. The doctors said I’d never have sex again unless I did years' worth of physical therapy involving zero gravity, plasma pools and—”

“Oh, for crying out loud.” I elbow him and start walking again. “You’re ridiculous. Just admit it. You lost your mojo. You lost that magic man-fairy dust that made all the girls drop their pants for you. You lost it, buddy. Admit it.”




The infamous hot dog cart.

He shakes his head. “Fine. There was no accident. Two years ago…”

“Yes?”

“I realized if I was ever going to win the girl I wanted to marry, I better start acting like a man for her.”

“Really?” I ask, feeling sorta starry-eyed for his romantic notion.

Josh shakes his head. “No, Gemma, that one was even more fabricated than the hot dog cart crushing my balls.”

I laugh. “You are such a freak.” Then, “Speaking of. What kind of guy gets off from a picture of a girl’s naked back?”

Josh stops and gives me a look that’s so hot, his eyes so full of dirty suggestion that I forget all about the fact that it’s so cold outside that there’s snow on the ground and frost on the windows.