I hesitate, feeling torn. As much as I want to end the evening on an easy, high note—and delay the inevitable for just a little bit longer—I know this isn’t fair to Pete. He deserves the truth. So with a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, I nod and say okay, I can come in for a few minutes. We get out of my car and walk back to his front door, our shoulders touching as he unlocks it.
Once inside, he instantly takes me in his arms, and I can’t resist the amazing, warm feel of him against me. My heart races with attraction and anticipation as our foreheads touch, then our cheeks and noses. I hold my breath as his lips brush against mine, and he whispers that this is our official first kiss, not the one at Johnny’s. My heart breaks a little as I think, more likely, that it is our last. I make myself pull back and say his name.
“Yes?” he says, staring intently into my eyes.
“Can we sit for a minute? And talk?”
He nods and says of course, then leads me into his living room filled with Packers memorabilia and framed photos of his family—all as happy, wholesome, and midwestern-looking as he. We sit beside each other on the sofa, and he takes my hand.
“So. I did want to talk to you about some things,” I say, my heart pounding with so many competing, overwhelming emotions.
I can feel him staring at me as I take a deep breath, then tell him that I’m not sure where to begin.
“Start anywhere,” he says. “Just talk to me….”
And so I do, the words pouring out of me as I tell him everything about my past. I begin at the hardest part, with the night my brother died, then fast-forward to our dinner with Sophie, and my fight with Meredith, then go back and cover the pivotal middle part, when Will caught me in bed with Gabe and broke up with me. Pete listens intently, asking only a few questions of clarification along the way, mostly about the time line. When I’m finished, I take a deep breath, then say, “So. That’s the last fifteen years in a nutshell.”
He takes my hand in his, holding my gaze. “I’m so sorry, Josie.”
“Thank you,” I say. “Thanks for listening to all of that…shit.” I let out a laugh, so that I don’t cry.
“It’s not shit. It’s life,” he says, finally letting go of my hand, but only so he can put his arm around me. “So what now?” he asks.
I shake my head. “I don’t know….The only thing I know for sure is that I am ready to move on with my life. I am ready to be a mother. I want my own family. Not as a do-over, but maybe as a way to heal…” I say, wondering if that sounds selfish—if it is selfish. “I want to have a baby.”
He nods and says he understands.
“And I haven’t told you this yet, either—but I got my test results back…and unfortunately, my eggs are a little on the low side for my age….So I have to do this. Now.”
“I understand,” he says again, then swallows. “Did you…did you decide on a donor?”
“Yeah,” I say, feeling a fresh wave of deep sadness, yet no uncertainty about my decision.
“And?” he asks, with a heartbreakingly hopeful look.
I take a deep breath, then force myself to tell him the rest. “I’ve decided to have a baby with Gabe,” I say.
“Gabe?” he says, looking more than a little surprised. “Are you guys…together?”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “Not at all. We’ll never be together like that. But he’s my best friend, and I know I can always count on him. It’s safer…less complicated….”
“Less complicated? Really?” he asks, his brow furrowed.
“Well, less complicated than using you,” I say, feeling a pang of guilt, hoping that I haven’t hurt him—that he doesn’t think I’m being cavalier about his feelings, whatever, exactly, they are. “Was that ever even a real offer?” I ask, unsure of what I want his answer to be.
“Of course it was,” he says, looking into my eyes. “You know it was.”
“Thank you, Pete,” I say, blinking back tears. “You’re an amazing person.”
“So are you, Josie,” he whispers.
We sit in silence for a torturous few seconds, before I tell him I’d better go. He quickly nods, then stands and walks me to the door.
“Good night, Josie,” he says when we get there, giving me an awkward little side hug.
“Good night, Pete,” I say, then lean up and kiss his cheek, my heart fluttering with wistfulness over what could have, maybe, been.
chapter thirty-two
MEREDITH