Page 73 of Love is a Game

A group of them paddle around on inflatable rings, laughing as they bump into each other, while a couple of older ones take turns launching themselves off a floating dock. Further out, a boy wobbles on a stand-up paddleboard, a younger girl shrieking with delight as she clings to the front, urging him to go faster.

Vivian watches them for a long moment. Then she shakes her head, dreamily.

“I can’t believe how fast it goes,” she murmurs. “You spend years drowning in the exhaustion and the crying and the constant neediness, thinking it’ll never end. Then you blink, and suddenly, you have a teenager. Finn used to be that little, you know? And now he’s planning his own Friday nights.”

“I haven’t asked you, Viv,” Misha says, idly stirring her drink with her straw. “Now that you and Brady are together, have you talked about having more kids?”

Vivian exhales, considering. “We’ve talked about the future…at least business-wise. In the next eighteen months, we want to step back from the restaurant’s daily grind, hire a qualified chef to run it, and focus more on expanding the tours. If we pull that off, we could theoretically have time for another child…”

“That’s a lot of planning,” I remark, biting into the wedge of pineapple garnish from my daiquiri.

“It’s also about Finn,” Vivian says, her tone more thoughtful now. “Things are great between Brady and me. But I don’t want to bring up the idea of another child when Finn’s still getting used to having an actual dad.”

She meets my eyes. “You know the story, Pen,” she says. “You’re one of Brady’s closest friends. I’m sure you get how huge this was for him. All of a sudden, learning he’s the father of a teenager.”

“Absolutely,” I answer. “It was definitely a surprise. But Brady really stepped up. Embracing fatherhood way more naturally than I would have guessed. It’s amazing.”

I hold back my lingering disbelief that the same Brady I used to know—the party guy, the one who never took anything seriously, is now a responsible adult with a kid.

“So yeah, I’d love to do it,” Vivian confirms. “And I hope we can. But you never know what lies in store. I got pregnant a little too easily at nineteen. It might be a different story now.”

Misha glances at me, an attempt at subtlety that fails miserably. I know exactly what she’s thinking. She’s itching to bring up what I told her about my own thoughts on having a baby.

Well, fuck it. What’s the point of female bonding if you can’t share some stuff?

I roll my eyes but give her the green light. “Go on, then. You can say it.”

Misha wastes no time turning to Vivian. “Pen wants to have a baby!”

“Oh!” Vivian swivels toward me, eyebrows lifting. “Um—that’s great?”

“Except I haven’t exactly planned things out the way you’re saying,” I admit. “My approach is way more…abstract.”

Vivian lets out a sharp laugh. “Ha! Okay, let’s be real for a second. I had a baby as a single nineteen-year-old while I was overseas. I didnotplan shit.” She grins. “And Finn survived. So don’t let my overthinking scare you off.”

I straighten, emboldened by her words. “So—what? Instinct just kicks in? You figure it out?”

Vivian leans back, smiling at the memory. “Well, I got lucky. In Switzerland, I had an amazingDoula—someone who helps with the birth and, just as crucially,afterwards. Like with the mother’s rest and recovery, nursing advice, emotional support, even household help. And, when I came back home, I moved in with my parents…and basically never left.”

“Well, whywouldyou?” Misha interjects. “They live in a giant mansion in Beverly Hills.”

“Right.” I nod, my excitement momentarily tempered. “But in theory, it can’t bethathard, right? I mean, we’re tough. Women are strong and adaptable.”

“Totally,” Vivian agrees. “Except…wow, the emotions. That baby has you from the very beginning. Your whole existence gets tied to them, and suddenly, being apart feels impossible.”

Her eyes glisten as she dives into the memories of early motherhood.

“Going back to workhurts.But staying home 24/7? It’s amazing butexhausting. Sleep? Forget it. Privacy? Gone. And just wait until they hit their teenage years. It’s like they get revenge. They call you out on everything. What you say, how you dress, what you think is cool. It’sbrutal.”

Then she shifts perspective and lets out a laugh. “You should hear what Violet and I talk about.” She shakes her head. “Weloveour kids, but parenting a teenager? Very tough. I’m glad I get to vent with someone.”

“Okay, well, on that note,” I say, pushing aside any illusions of effortless motherhood, “can I slip in one more drink?”

Vivian looks to her barely touched mojito. “Oh, of course,” she says. “Let’s enjoy the rest of the sunset.”

I signal a waiter, and Misha takes the opportunity to loop the conversation back to Steven—“Wouldn’t his genes make excellent children?”Which spirals into who has the best fatherly attributes, and—shit.The last thing I need is for Vivian to find out that Tuck, of all people, has thrown his hat in the ring.

If Brady catches wind of that, it’s game over. Our whole private arrangement—our neatly contained, no-strings-attached understanding—would be out in the open, and everything wouldexplode.

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