“The mom isn’t in the picture?” I asked.
“Not anymore. So he thinks he’s doing the noble thing by throwing away his career for the kid.”
“Then find him a nanny,” Chris suggested. He had picked up an apple from Damon’s desk and taken an exploratory bite in it.
“A nanny,” Damon repeated dryly.
“Yeah. A woman who takes care of his kid till things settle down.”
Damon looked like he was about to tell Chris what a horrible idea that was when his eyes found my stomach. “Is that…”
I wiggled my eyebrows.
Damon covered his face with his palms. “Oh, no. You let him put a baby in you?”
“Against my better judgment,” I said.
“I mean, statistically speaking, the way we’ve been since… well, since before the wedding honestly. It was bound to happen. Condom’s aren’t perfect. Birth control isn’t perfect. And as it turns out, when you use neither, the statistical chance really sky rockets.”
Damon shook his head. “Please just tell me this isn’t going to make you quit football.”
“Oh, no. Belle seems kind of excited about taking care of the little thing.”
I nodded. “I’m still going to keep up with my business, but,” I gave a cocky little shrug. “After the way things picked up from our wedding, people are willing to work around my schedule now.”
Damon nodded. He looked to be calming down and taking things in quickly, as he usually did. Damon was prone to grumpiness and bursts of irritation with his brother, but the man had a remarkable ability to calm himself down and look at things rationally. “What ever happened with that clown in the turtleneck? The one who interrupted the ceremony.”
“Lance,” I said. “And he apologized. Profusely. He even went through considerable effort to patch things up with Chris.”
“I’ve magnanimously decided to forgive turtleneck,” Chris said in a ridiculously sanctimonious tone. “I’ve even allowed him to try to fix his friendship with my wifey.”
I grinned. “We’re not friends like we used to be, but we’re civil now. And he has agreed to stop trying to convince me we’re soul mates. So I’d say he’s doing much better.”
“What about the woman who tried to burn your career to the ground?” Damon asked.
“Oh, she’s not doing as well. She got rebound married to spite Lance. But it turned out the guy she married was just after her trust fund, and he got half of it in the divorce.”
“Two divorces in less than a year? That’s almost impressive,” Damon said.
I laughed. “Karma has a way of coming around, I guess.”
“Speaking of karma,” Chris said. He balled up a napkin and expertly tossed it straight between Damon’s eyes. It quietly ricocheted and landed on the desk.
Damon blinked. “What the hell was that for?”
“I don’t know. Something shitty you most likely did in the past twenty-four hours. So, anyway, about this whole nanny thing. I’ve got a brilliant idea.”
“The last time you had a brilliant idea, it turned into a fake marriage that wound up getting a poor, innocent girl pregnant.”
“Wait, was that whole thing my idea?”
“Honestly,” Damon said. “I don’t even remember anymore. I just know that when you get involved, innocent women tend to get knocked up, locked down, or otherwise led into relationships with bad men.”
“Wait, are you talking about me and Belle, or you and Chelsea?”
Damon shook his head. “I’m just saying that whatever your idea is can’t be good.”
“Oh. Yeah, whatever. What I was going to say is I know exactly how you can help this guy out. Wait, you said he plays baseball, right? Is it that Kerrigan guy? The pitcher?”
“Yes,” Damon said slowly.
“Ohhh, shit.” Chris was wearing a huge smile. Judging by the look on Damon’s face, he knew as well as I did how dangerous that was. “He and I played together in college before he committed to baseball. I know exactly who you could get to be his nanny.”
“His kid’s nanny,” Damon corrected.
“Yeah, whatever. Same difference. Anyway…”
When Chris and I were finally together in the back of a cab after meeting with Damon, he stretched out as much as he could in the back and laid his head on what was left of my lap. His ear was pressed to my swollen belly, and he looked up at me with his crooked smile. “I love your ass.”
I snorted. “You love my ass, or you ‘love my ass’, like the whole package?”
“I love those cute little buns of yours and you. The whole package.”
“Just checking.”
“Say it,” Chris teased.
We’d made a little ritual out of me sharing affection for him. I guess I’d gotten so used to acting like I didn’t have feelings for him before our fake wedding that it was only natural. Now it had morphed into its own strange routine. “I almost love you,” I said, shrugging as nonchalantly as I could.
He got up from my lap, putting his index finger to my chin with mock menace. “Do better.”
“I love you most of the time.”
Chris brought his lips close to mine so I could feel the heat of his breath. “Better.”
I bit my lip. “I love you so much it hurts. I used to hit the snooze button every morning, but now I’m too excited to get up and get on my Big Boy. Now it’s—”
Chris groaned, but was smiling, too. “You weren’t supposed to give in that easy.”
I playfully took his lip between my teeth and gave a little tug. “You shouldn’t make it so easy.”
“That’s fair,” Chris said. “I am pretty amazing.”
“Okay,” I said, putting my fingertips on his chest and trying to push him back. “Maybe I do only sort of love you again.”
Chris balled my blouse in his fist, tugging me toward him. “That’s better. And when we get back home, I’m going to make you scream how much you love me by the time we’re done.”
I let him kiss me, and I let the feelings wash over me. Satisfaction. Happiness. Relief.
They were the same blissful blend I’d grown used to around Chris. He felt like my very own Hallmark movie. My ticket to that world where it’s always the first few weeks of fall and everything is wrapped in a warm, puffy sweater. Where it’s always that first day of putting out decorations and making fun desserts by the kitchen window while the colorful leaves drift down outside.
Chris was my happily ever after. He was that risky business decision I’d made six months ago that paid off beyond my wildest dreams. Except instead of fancy cars and big houses—although I guess he came with that, too—I’d been rewarded with love. Not kind of love. Not mostly love.
It was the real deal. The top shelf love you had to put special orders in from Europe. The kind people wished they could get their hands on, but usually had to settle for the imitation version of.
I’d found love, and I wondered if that thought would ever stop making my insides want to explode with happiness.
Probably not.