Rosie and I chat about her day at school, then I say goodnight. “Love you, cupcake,” I tell her.
“Love you too, Daddy,” she says as a fork clinks on a glass from the dining room.
I hang up the phone and prepare to enter the lust zone once more.
STANDING WOULD BE A BAD IDEA
MARK
As I head toward the dining room, the conversation grows louder.
“Asher, if you’re going to make one of your epic toasts, may it not take an hour this time,” Danya says with a laugh. “We’ve got to get home to our sitter by ten. Ticktock.”
“And how is my adorable little Elizabeth Ann the Second doing?” Asher asks.
“Such a darling. We love her so much,” Danya says. “Thank you again.”
Why is she thanking him for her kid?
“Here’s to shivering puppies in newspaper kiosks finding their forever homes,” Asher says. “Apparently, I’m a dog matchmaker now too.”
Are you kidding me? Elizabeth Ann is a dog, and Asher both saved her and found her a home? Can’t he just be hot? Nope. He’s hot, and cocky, and he’s a dog superhero.
Fuck you, lust.
As I enter the dining room, Asher clinks his glass to Danya’s.
“Mark, isn’t this amazing? Asher found a home for Elizabeth the shivering Border Collie,” Hannah calls out.
“Amazing. Should have named her Dictionary,” I say, turning to Hannah and plastering on a smile—as I walk straight into Asher’s outstretched arm.
The one that’s holding his glass.
And the drink goes upside down.
All over me.
Great. Just great.
Now I’m wearing his champagne on my chest. I stare down at my navy polo, soaked through with expensive bubbly.
“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck. I’m so sorry,” Asher says.
“It’s fine,” I mutter.
“Mark, I can get you a fresh shirt,” Flip calls out.
Yeah, that’d be a no. But I don’t have time to politely decline, since Asher says, “Here. Let me help.”
How does he plan to help?
I look up.
Wait. Nope. Not that. That is not helpful.
This can’t be happening. No way is he taking off his shirt in front of all of us. In front of me.
“There’s no need for you to wear a soaked shirt all night when that was my fault, Mark,” Asher says.
“I’m fine,” I blurt out, because his shirtlessness must stop. I can’t handle it.
It’s possible Danya is laughing.
Hannah might be catcalling.
Flip is shouting something about Magic Mike.
And I do nothing, because the guy standing next to me undoes the last button on his tight, designer shirt, exposing all of that smooth skin, flecked with chest hair that I want to run my hands through.
My mouth waters, and I officially hate lust right now.
Clenching my fists, I fight the overwhelming urge to rip that shirt off him the rest of the way, explore that unreal six-pack. Wait. Is that an eight-pack? My eyes dart briefly, taking in the details of those muscles as I sit down.
Standing any longer would be a very bad idea.
Asher strips off the shirt completely, then hands it to me. “Here you go.”
Not sure I can speak right now. But at this point, the only thing I have left is my dignity, so I wave off the clothes. “I’m fine.”
When Asher sits next to me, still shirtless, he spreads a napkin across his lap and shoots me a cocky grin. “Yeah. You said that already, Banks,” he says, then returns his focus to the dinner party, telling a story about a photo shoot in Paris.
I settle in for a long, painful meal in my champagne-soaked shirt.
In spite of my warnings, Hannah moves in with Flip a few weeks later.
This is awful news. On the phone walking home from work, I plead with her to be careful.
She just laughs. “It’s all good, but I do want to come see you on Saturday. Do you have Rosie?”
“Of course,” I say, since I usually do.
On Saturday, Hannah comes over for dinner and bath time, then insists on reading ten books. Rosie’s in heaven, and still begs for more.
Hannah tucks her in after the eleventh. “Goodnight, sweet girl,” my sister says.
I give Rosie a goodnight kiss, then we leave, shutting her door.
“Are you thinking about taking up a new career as a nanny?” I tease.
Hannah shakes her head and bites her lip as if she’s hiding a smile. She tugs me to the kitchen, yanking me there in seconds flat. “That’s going to be me soon,” she says, pointing at Rosie’s room.
Somewhere in the back of my mind I can add up what she said, but it feels like a complex math equation. I’ve got to get it just right. “Explain.”
Hannah sets her hands on my shoulders and squeezes hard. “I’m pregnant. We’re due in the fall. I’m so happy.”
Tears of joy roll down her face as she throws her arms around me. But me? I’m numb. I feel like I’ve slipped back in time to when I last heard those words.
When I got my college girlfriend pregnant.
Honestly, I feel like screaming.
This thing with Flip is moving way too fast.
My sister could get hurt. And her kid could too.
But, wow, a baby. A tiny Hannah. My heart squeezes. Just the idea makes my throat feel tight. My little sister is going to be a mom? That’s incredible. Wonderful. And also terrifying. Rosie’s newborn days were so hard. But so amazing.
And so hard.
This is a lot.
Hannah is still waiting for me to say something nice. But my throat is made of ground glass. “Congratulations,” I choke out, trying to sound convincing.
This news moves me in a hundred ways. But I can’t shake the feeling that she’s heading down the same road I just traveled. I know how stories like this end.
I’m living the end of this tale.
And it ain't pretty.
THE HOT NERD VIBE
ASHER
As we head to the tennis courts on a gorgeous May morning, I clap my good friend on the shoulder. “I only have one question for you today,” I say to Flip.
“Is this where you ask me again how on earth I convinced Hannah to marry me?”
The man simply can’t stop talking about the whole she said yes moment since he asked Hannah to be his wife a week ago. He even showed me her Instagram post where, in fact, she wrote I said yes.
Side note: I was the first to know her answer, because I was the engagement photographer. Felt a little like James Bond, waiting patiently behind a tree in Central Park, then popping out to snap photos when Flip went down on one knee on Bethesda Terrace.
“No. The question is,” I say, swiveling the racquet in my hand as we walk to the courts in the park, “are you going to need a handicap since I plan on utterly destroying you today?”
Flip scoffs. “I never need you to spot me any points. And I have beaten you on occasion. Just because you played some god-awful sport nobody’s ever heard of doesn’t mean you win all the time at everything.”
But I usually do.
I clutch my chest like I’ve been wounded. “Some sport nobody’s heard of? Try the best sport in the world.”