Page 58 of Knocked Up in Alaska

Now she stared at her friend. “I was breastfeeding her.”

“Ohhhh. Well, I mean, I guess that would be startling, but I’ve watched you feed Shayla. You can’t really see anything.”

Though she wished she could leave it at that, her honest nature stepped in. “Oh, no. That poor man got an eyeful of all this”—she gestured at her chest—“because Shayla had filled her belly and fallen asleep, and then I’d fallen asleep, and by the time he wandered in, I was stretched out with my feet on his desk, my skirt hiked up and my big mom boobs hanging out.”

“Oh, shush about poor Ford and your mom boobs. First off”—Bridget raised her index finger—“your tits are spectacular. More so now than ever. Second”—she extended her middle finger as well—“heterosexual men—and we believe Ford qualifies—love boobs.”

“Not this kind.”

Bridget rolled her eyes. “All kinds.” She looked at Izzy. “Am I right?”

Izzy nodded. “In my experience, yes. I guarantee you Ford wasn’t feeling sorry for himself while he was taking in the view.”

Bridget pointed at Izzy. “Exactly. What’d he say?”

“He said he was sorry…again.” Admitting it suddenly made her want to cry. “And he ran out like his retinas were burned.”

Izzy crinkled her forehead. “That’s how you left it?”

“No. I got myself together, opened the door, and he was standing there, so I apologized, because he shouldn’t have to worry about coming into his own office. And he said he didn’t mind—”

Bridget snapped her fingers. “That’s what I’m talking about.”

“—but he only meant he didn’t mind me using his office to feed the baby. He promised he’d knock from now on.”

“Well, okay,” Izzy said cautiously, “problem solved?”

She nodded, but then that honest nature of hers spoke up again. “No. The problem isn’t solved.” Her face felt about a hundred degrees hotter than the water, but she plunged ahead with her confession. “I like him.”

“Of course, you do,” Bridget said. “Everybody likes Ford.”

“Not everybody likes him the way I like him. The thing that happened before, that night at his house when I was staying with him? That wasn’t just the pregnancy hormones at work. I’m attracted to him. I have been for a long time.”

“How long?” Bridget asked.

“Remember the night you passed out on the pool table at The Goose?”

“Yeah.” She cringed at the memory. “Vaguely.”

“I’m the one who called Archer and told him where to find you.”

“Oh. Thanks. I owe you one.”

“No. You don’t understand. I called Archer because I knew Ford wouldn’t let you sleep there all night on your own, and I didn’t want him staying there with you. I called Archer for you, but also a lot for me, because I didn’t want anything to happen between you and Ford.”

“Ha. I’m flattered by your misplaced jealously, but—”

“I didn’t mean to be,” she protested, genuinely miserable. “Jealous, I mean. I wish I didn’t feel this way about him, but I can’t seem to help it. He’s strong, and smart, and kind, and understanding, and…” She trailed off. Could she be any more hopeless?

“He’s all those things,” Izzy agreed.

“Also, hot,” Bridget interjected. “Don’t forget hot. As we decided before, the man is doubly hot.”

“Agreed,” Izzy said. “Why wouldn’t you be attracted to him? And more importantly, why do you wish you weren’t?”

She simply stared at her friends for a long minute, but either they were playing dumb or they honestly had no clue. “Because he doesn’t want me that way.” There, she’d said it out loud. The pathetic truth. “He doesn’t want me.”

Bridget narrowed her eyes. “Who says?”

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