Okay, that one is a little weird. I’ve worked for him for nearly seven years, so why is it that he’s only noticed me now? Were my “juicy” breasts really that enticing?
“Why do you like me?” I ask.
But at the same time he says, “Will you go with me to the Hamptons for Valentine’s weekend?”
I stare at him in shock. “The what?”
He smiles his bright white smile. “The Hamptons. I have a little cottage there and I thought you might like a romantic escape from the city.”
Holy crap.
My stomach rolls and I grip the arm of my swivel chair.
“Did you just ask me to the Hamptons?”
“Yes.” He nods.
“To stay with you?”
“Yes.” He gives me a bemused smile.
“For Valentine’s Day?”
“Again yes.”
I stare at him, unable to think of an answer.
He lets out a low chuckle as he waits.
This isn’t just fancy dinners and coffees and heavy petting back at his place, this is serious. This is the next level.
“But why?” I blurt out.
Ian slicks his thick hair back from his face and gives the low vee in my shirt another steamy look. “Because the contents of your heart shine through, and I see beauty.”
Oh.
Ohhh.
He’s not looking at my breasts, he’s looking at my heart. That’s actually really sweet. Then, I remember what a good guy Ian is, how he’s been upfront about where he wants our relationship to head.
I think about Josh.
Josh.
My friend.
“What else, Gem?” he’d said. What else?
I don’t know about what anyone else thinks, but it’s pretty clear to me that Josh and I are meant to be friends. Maybe co-parents. But mostly friends.
Not more.
And that’s okay.
Really.
Haven’t I always said that I’m not interested in Josh Lewenthal? Hasn’t that always been true?
I sigh.
Life’s complicated.
“Well?” asks Ian. “What do you think?”
“Yes,” I say. “I’d love to go.”
It’s nearly time for my egg retrieval. Josh and I are in the waiting room at Dr. Ingraham’s office.
There’s a large rectangular space on the wall with slightly darker paint where the Georgia O’Keeffe painting used to hang. I’ve been staring at the wall for the last ten minutes.
For some reason I’m horribly nervous. Like, feel-like-I’m-going-to-throw-up nervous.
Joy is making phone calls behind the desk, completely ignoring us and the other patients in the waiting room. The TV in the corner is playing a survival show marathon. I focus on the wall and try not to fidget.
Josh leans over and presses his shoulder to mine. He dips his head close and says, “You okay?”
I don’t turn toward him, instead I keep staring at the wall. “I’ll be alright.”
He gives a slow nod and says in a quiet murmur, “Don’t worry, Gem, I’m nervous too.”
Finally I look away from the wall and glance at him. “Really?”
He leans forward in his chair. “Heck yeah. Think of the pressure. I’ve got to produce another sample in ‘The Production Room,’ and since you’ll be conked out on anesthesia you won’t be able to send me any kinky photos. What do I do if that visual of you getting off to your phone in the park just doesn’t carry me through?”
I let out a surprised laugh and shove him away. “Pervert.”
He smiles and his eyelids lower until they remind me of what he probably looks like when he’s lying in bed, about to make love.
I shake my head. “I can’t believe you.”
“Yeah, but it’s a valid concern. All you have to do is lie there, I actually have to perform.”
I press my lips together to hold back a smile. I’m not nervous anymore. I don’t know how he does it, but he’s able to make everything easier.
He’s still looking at me with a woeful, pity-me sort of expression, so I say, “Ahhh, the misery of man, your untold woe over the centuries. Even your stone age ancestor lamented his lot. Me, Kral, do all work, woman just lay there. No fair. Kral not happy.”
He starts to grin, then laughs when I do my stone age voice impression.
“Who’s Kral?” he asks.
“Your alter ego.”
Josh snorts. “Really?”
I nod. “Mhmm.”
“Well, Kral could use some inspiration for ‘The Production Room.’”