Page 29 of Unexpecting

″Since when do I stalk anyone?” I exclaimed.

J.B. gave a cough; Cooper raised his eyebrows. “Well, last summer when George Clooney was in town shooting that movie…” Emma trailed off, giving me a little smile.

″That was George Clooney,” I told them, like that explained everything.

″Do you really think it’s a good idea to try and reinvent the past?” Coop asked me, this time all serious-like.

″There’s no way it would work,” J.B. scoffed.

″I’m not trying to reinvent anything!” I protested. “And why wouldn’t it work? I may be older and maybe a little wiser and more experienced, but I’m still me. I’m still the same Casey he was in love with.”

″It’s been twenty years. There’s no way you’re the same person. Everybody changes. Look at me,” J.B. offered.

″No, I think you still have the maturity, not to mention the mentality, of a fifteen-year-old, so what’s your point?”

″Hey, I’m trying to be nice here!” J.B. protested. “You don’t know anything about this guy anymore, do you? He could have spent the last ten years in prison for all you know. I’m just trying to watch your back.”

″Thank you,” I say grudgingly, only after I realize there is genuine concern in J.B.’s voice. “But I’m fine. And I doubt that David has ever seen the inside of a prison, so you shouldn’t worry about that.”

″How many times did you Google him?” J.B. asked with his usual smirk, the concern in his voice vanishing into smugness. I ignored the question. “It’s like me trying to hook up with my ex-wife—it’s a stupid idea.”

Cooper turned down the burner and stepped away from the stove, which told me he had a lot on his mind because he can normally hold up his end of any conversation while continuing to cook. “Look, Casey, if you’re planning on something with this guy, I really think you’re opening yourself up for a big world of hurt,” he began, already full into lecture mode. “So many things have changed since you were twenty. It’s not going to be the same between you. I can’t see how you would think it would possibly work out.”

″I’m not planning anything. Yesterday was really good. Maybe—”

″Yesterday was one day,” he interrupted. “He was probably surprised to see you, and yes, probably pretty happy. And he probably spent all of last night thinking about you and how great it was back then, but what if he remembered how he felt when you gave him the boot and wants to get back at you?”

″David would never do that!”

″It’s been twenty years, Casey; you don’t know the guy anymore!” J.B. interjected.

″Twelve,” I muttered. “Only twelve.”

If I were listening to my head, I would have realized the two of them were making sense, but for once my heart seemed in command.

″I need to try,” I told them truthfully. “It might be my only shot.”

″At what, getting pregnant?” J.B. scoffed. “You really should—”

″At being happy,” I said quietly, with my face turned down at my half-eaten plate of breakfast.

″Casey, this isn’t your only chance,” Emma told me softly.

″No?” I asked her. “It feels like it might be.”

The kitchen was quiet, and I finished my breakfast without glancing up. Yes, these were three of my closest friends and we discuss a lot and they probably know too much about me for their own good, but I’ve never gotten into in-depth emotional insecurity stuff. Usually, I just store that stuff in my do-not-think-about file and leave it there. But yes, now that it’s out there, I believe that David might be my last chance at getting everything that I want.

I want to have a baby. I want to have a baby so bad it hurts. I want a baby to cuddle and care for and give all the love I have in my heart, all the love I’m wasting on my friends. Okay, maybe not wasting, but I seem to be living these days vicariously through them. I’m involved in a wedding through Brit. I’m involved with kids through Libby. I’m involved with Cooper and Emma’s life as they move in together. Yet I have nothing—no marriage prospects, no children of my own, no one to share my life with. Nothing. Do you blame me for thinking David might be the answer?

I went back and thought what might have been had I not broken up with David. I would have gone to Europe with Brit—David had been fine with the idea—but when I came back, we would have found an apartment together. And then we would have gotten engaged and started planning our wedding. And two years after getting married, I would have had our first baby, at twenty-seven. Two years later, I would have had our second baby, then a year and a half later, a third, so by the time I was thirty-two, my family with David would have been finished and we would have enjoyed raising them together. I’d have an eight-year-old daughter (or son) by now if that’s what had happened. If I hadn’t been so stupid.

But maybe it’s not too late. Maybe I’ve got another chance at the life I’ve always wanted.

When I finally looked up, J.B. was staring at me with an expression in his eyes I couldn’t read. It was sort of a mixture of affection and pity—and something else I’d never seen before. “What?” I muttered.

″I never thought you were the type to need a man to make you happy,” he asked seriously.

″I’m not,” I told him, stung by his observation.

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