I wiggle in his arms. “You can put me down now,” I say. I’m not exactly light.
He shakes his head and pulls me tighter against him. “Five more minutes.”
I sigh and then lean my head against his shoulder and let him carry me through Midtown Manhattan. My coat is in my arms and acts as a sort of blanket against the chill. It’s Saturday so there are window shoppers, couples, and families ambling down the sidewalk. Still, no one except curious little kids look at the tall handsome guy carrying a woman down the street.
I wrap my arms more tightly around Josh’s neck and shoulders. They’re solid and muscular, thicker than they were sixteen years ago. You know, the last time I was this close to him. His body is different. To be honest, a lot different. He was seventeen then, and he’s thirty-three now. I’m sure…I know, a lot has changed.
I remember how much I’d idolized him. How much I fantasized about him as a teenager. Now I know, even then, I didn’t really know Josh, I just fantasized about the idea of him.
It’s sad to admit that you never really liked someone, that instead, you liked the idea of them.
And then, just as easily, I discarded the idea of him.
For all these years, I never, ever knew Josh.
Not a bit.
I sigh and lean my head against his warm chest and stare up at the winter blue sky.
The sounds of the city, the whoosh of the buses, the taxi horns, the screeching of the subway rising from the sidewalk grates, all of those sounds mix with the steady beating of Josh’s heart.
Finally, he comes to the southern edge of Central Park. He heads down a path that leads toward the little iced-over pond. There’s a green bench looking over a flock of geese that have found a small bit of water not yet iced over. He settles down onto the bench and sets me down so that my head rests in his lap. I bend my knees and put my feet on the bench.
Josh gives me a rueful smile. “Well?”
Then, I can’t help it, I grin back at him. Because we did it. We did it.
“In less than two weeks we’ll know—” I begin.
“What are you doing for Valentine’s—” He stops, clears his throat, and then says, “I was wondering what you’re doing for Valentine’s Day?”
He asked, “What are you doing for Valentine’s Day?”
Embarrassed heat flares over my cheeks and I look away. “Oh, um.” I scramble up and sit upright on the bench, then shove my arms into my coat and zip it up.
Josh avoids looking at me and I realize that my reaction wasn’t exactly what he was expecting. I cough into my hand and then shift uncomfortably, because darn it, my bum still hurts.
“Well,” I say. Then I stop, because suddenly nothing makes sense anymore. Or maybe it wasn’t sudden at all. But still, nothing makes sense. “I have a date.”
Josh looks at me quickly, then away, back toward the pond and the geese flapping their wings at each other.
I swallow and rub my hands up and down my arms. It’s cold out.
“No problem. I was only asking,” Josh says, “because you’ll find out the results around then, and I thought you might want company. Your mom said you didn’t have a date.” He still won’t look at me.
I nod. “Okay. Yeah. No. I’ve got a date.”
“Right. Good.”
“Mhmm,” I agree.
We sit for a minute, just watching the geese honking and being jerks in the water, and then I stand. It’s too awkward. It’s awkward again.
“Thanks for today, I’m going to head home.” I pause when he looks up at me. His eyes are so dark that I can’t read the emotion in them, but his lips curve into his usual laughing smile.
So, maybe the entire dirty talk thing was just a joke. The near kiss was just momentary madness brought on from the emotions of the situation. If Josh can laugh it off, brush it off, so can I.
“Who’s the date with?” he asks. Okay, maybe he’s not brushing it off.
I bite my bottom lip, then say, “Ian.”
Josh gives me a look almost like I’ve disappointed him.
“He’s a good guy,” I say defensively, which was a stupid thing to say. So I add, “The worth of a person is measured in the fruit of their actions.”
Josh stands up and puts his hands into his pockets. “True. Another Ian quote?”
“Yeah.” Then, because I don’t actually want to go, I ask, “Do you want to stay for the day? We could get lunch? I mean, I do owe you a meal or three. And I can’t ever…I can’t ever express how thankful I am to you.”
Josh reaches up and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. I shiver as his fingers trail along the sensitive edge of my skin.
I stare at him as he concentrates on smoothing my flyaway hair down. Finally, he pulls away and catches my expression.
“Your hair was all…” He makes a messy gesture with his hands. “From me carrying you around the city.”
My heart thumps. “Do you think she’ll stick?” I ask. In less than two weeks we’ll know whether or not the transfer worked.
Josh pauses, thinks for a long minute, then, “Whether she does or not, she was loved.”
I put my hand to my belly and nod.
Right now, there’s a day five embryo knocking around in there, and if I’m lucky, someday I’ll get to meet her.
“Come on,” Josh says, “you’re right. You owe me some pizza.”
So, we walk out of the park and head toward the nearest hole-in-the-wall pizza joint and then we spend the day together just walking around the city, messing around, taking in the sights, being friends.
When I climb into bed that night, I stare at the ceiling and try to do one of Hannah’s fertility meditations. I imagine my uterus as a fertile garden, ready to nourish and provide life. But halfway through the meditation I open my eyes and stare at the far wall.
It’s dark, so I can barely make out the painted quote, but long ago I memorized what it says. Love is the best gift I’ve ever had the privilege to give.
I hold my hand to my abdomen and stare at the wall, at the words.