Josh and Gemma Make a Baby(38)

I raise my eyebrows.

“So, what’s an FF?”

I cough into my hand and shake my head.

“Femme fatale? No, that couldn’t be it.” Ian studies me. “Family friend? Hmm? No? How about, fortunate friend?” He watches my face and zooms in on my embarrassed expression. “Definitely friend something.”

I shake my head no and take a long swallow of ice water. When I set my glass down he’s still watching me.

Then Ian changes the subject and says, “Tell me about this ‘a lot going on right now.’ What’s keeping you from pursuing the pleasure of two souls meeting as one?”

I let out a small, choked laugh. “Is that what they call it these days?”

Ian leans toward me with a smile. “Among other things.”

I take a moment to think about my answer. “Well, like I told you earlier, I’m going through IVF. I’m not really interested in a fling.”

Ian shakes his head, considers me for a moment and then asks, “What makes you think this is a fling?”

We end up back at his place.





16





“Keep your panties on, we didn’t have sex.” I’m on the phone with my sister Leah. She called to say that she wouldn’t need me to babysit tomorrow and then asked about life. Somehow, my date with Ian came up. Probably because I wanted to avoid talking about Josh and why he came over to babysit with me last week. If she thought it was important, she’d be on it like a bloodhound on the scent.

“Gemma, are you kidding? What are you thinking getting involved with that Ken doll? Wait, I take it back, a Ken doll is less plastic than Ian Fortune.”

A taxi driver lays on his horn, a long, irritated blaring, as I cross the street in front of him. I send him a friendly wave and hop up on the curb on the other side of East Fourteenth Street.

“I’ll have you know, Ian has never had plastic surgery. He comes by his good looks naturally.”

Leah scoffs. “I’m talking about his insides. The man is as fake as a Nada, you know, those bags you can buy on the sidewalk that are supposedly Pradas? Or the Nolex, the sidewalk Rolex.”

I weave through the busy rush hour crowd at a fast clip. “What’s your problem with him, anyway? I’ve never understood it.”

I slow my pace and sniff the air. Over the exhaust I smell something delicious. Something really delicious, like cinnamon and honey and butter. I look around at the food carts and all the first-floor businesses. Leather repair, thrift store, bodega, laundry, candy store, deli. Wait, under the letters Candy Store are the words egg cream and fresh beignet. My stomach growls.

“I don’t have a problem with him, I just don’t think he’s good enough for my baby sister,” Leah says.

Huh. Alright.

I push the door open to the candy store and am rewarded with the scent of fried dough and sugar. “Three dozen beignets and four chocolate egg creams,” I tell the older man behind the counter.

“Where are you?” Leah asks.

“I don’t know. Getting delicious food.”

“Are you with Ian?”

“Why would I be with Ian?”

“Who knows? Why are you getting so much food? Hang on. Mary! Stop vacuuming your sister’s hair. Maemie, put the Kool-Aid down…don’t you spill it, don’t you do it. So help me, Mary, pull the vacuum away.”

“Thanks,” I mouth as I’m handed a warm bag of beignets and a cardboard container full of drinks. I head back onto the street. I’m only a few blocks from Clive’s Comics.

“Maybe I do need you to babysit,” jokes Leah.

I chuckle. “You guys having fun?”

“Mhmm. Speaking of…what’s this I hear about Josh coming by the other week?”

I wrinkle my nose. Leave it to Leah to ask about this.

“Eh. He’s bored at his dad’s place, I guess. He’ll take whatever company he can get.”

She makes a disbelieving noise. “I guess. I didn’t think you guys were close—” She lets out a gasp, and then, “Mary are you vacuuming Maemie’s Kool-Aid out of her glass? That is not a safe choice! Sorry, Gemma, I gotta go. I cannot wait until Oliver gets back from his business trip. Lord, give me patience.”

I stifle a laugh. “Okay. Bye, give the kiddos kisses for me.”

I let out a sigh of relief. Saved by the proverbial bell, aka the twins at the height of mischief making. I’ll have to bring them an extra-special present next week.

Leah hangs up, and my phone earbuds start to play music again. But I’ve made it. I’m at the sidewalk cellar door to Clive’s Comics.





The beignets and egg creams were a hit. The pink room is filled with the scent of fried sugar and my stomach is happy. I lean back in my metal folding chair and lick the sugar from my fingers.

“So, explain to me how this works,” Brook asks. She scowls at me, but the effect is ruined by the dusting of sugar on the tip of her nose. “You’re dating Ian Fortune, he says he wants a serious relationship, and he doesn’t care that you’re using another man’s sperm to have a baby.”

“Correct,” I say. Then I take another sip of my delicious chocolate egg cream. Ian and I talked about it last night at his place. He said that he respects my modern sensibilities and my refreshing view on relationships. I have no idea why after so many years working for him Ian has finally noticed me, but I’m not going to question the intervention of fate.