Page 56 of Screwed (Dad Bod Contracting 4)
“So where do I come into this? I feel like you wouldn’t be talking to me about this unless there was some issue.”
He nods. “She went off birth control and we’ve been trying for a while.”
“Nothing doing?” I surmise.
“Right. And she recently went to her doctor to see what’s up.” He pauses, considers his words. “Fact is neither of us are exactly young anymore, you know? And her doctor basically said it wouldn’t be impossible, but unlikely for her to conceive, and a pregnancy would be difficult and risky at her age, even if she did.”
“I see. That’s tough.”
Franco nods. “She’s struggling with it. She needs to talk it out, and I know Imogen knows something’s up, but I think it may be more than a one-woman show, you know?”
I smile at him. “Absolutely. I’ll talk to her.”
“Thanks.”
Chapter 10
A week and a half later, Audra, Imogen, Laurel, and I are at Imogen’s house. I talked to Imogen, and we decided this was a conversation for the whole crew, so we talked to Laurel, and decided to blindside Audra with a dinner party intervention.
We planned an Italian night, so Audra and Laurel are working on a lasagna, Imogen is making an antipasto salad, and I’m doing cheesy garlic bread. Out of deference to the fact that Imogen can’t drink, being pregnant, we made it an alcohol-free dinner party, serving sparkling water instead of wine.
Which, considering the seriousness of the subject at hand, is probably a good thing.
We collaborate on a fabulous nineties music playlist to cook to, put Friends on in the background, and basically just have fun. Dinner is delicious, and drama free. Dessert is a tiramisu purchased from a local bakery—because we’re committed to the theme, but not that committed; tiramisu is hard.
Finally, we’re all sated, full of salad, lasagna, garlic bread, and tiramisu, and we’re sitting around Imogen’s living room sipping herbal tea and watching Friends. We’re all having so much fun.
Imogen eyes me, and I eye her back, and she gives me a significant look and I return it.
Finally, Audra snorts. “You two are so fucking obvious, it’s adorable.” She gestures at the four of us. “What’s this intervention about? Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had more fun than I thought was possible without booze, but you two have something up your dorky little sleeves.”
I laugh. “We’re that obvious?”
She laughs. “You’ve been making weird eyes at each other all evening. If I didn’t know you two were both slutting it up for sexy men, I’d think you were going lesbo together.”
Imogen blinks. “There are so many offensive elements to that statement, I don’t even know where to start listing them.”
“I’m not slutting it up for anyone, thank you very much,” I say.
Audra arches an eyebrow. “What, no repeat of the kitchen incident?”
I narrow my eyes at her; I only told her about that. “Nope.”
Laurel leans forward on the sectional. “Kitchen incident? What incident?” She eyes Imogen. “Do you know of any incident?”
Imogen shakes her head. “Nope.” Her eyes go to me. “Do tell, Nova.”
I give Audra the finger. “Nice redirect, bitch.”
She just cackles. “Can’t corner me, slutty-buns.”
“James and I had a little…moment of intimacy,” I say. “In my kitchen, a couple weeks ago.”
“You slept with him?” Laurel says, squealing.
“In your kitchen?”
I groan. “No, I did not sleep with him.” I hesitate. “We just…fooled around.”
“And?” Imogen presses.
I shrug. “And…he’s not there, yet.”
“Meaning?”
I focus on Phoebe, who’s doing the “Smelly Cat” song. “Meaning…we talked again in his kitchen, a few days later, and he just needs time.”
“Needs time for what?” Laurel asks.
“To figure out…life,” I say. “To figure out singlehood and moving on.”
“Oh.” Laurel nods. “That makes sense.” She stares at me, scrutinizing, searching. “And you?”
“And me, what?”
“Where are you in the whole thing?”
I shrug again. “I don’t know. I like him. I really enjoyed…what happened with us. I’d like more, but only if he’s all in. And he just can’t commit to that. At least, not the last time we talked, which was almost a month ago, now.”
“A month?” Imogen says.
I nod. “He’s been MIA and totally beyond communication, at least for me. I see plenty of Jesse and Franco though, and they say he’s around and still going on those mysterious long lunches. Two or three days every week.”
“Are you okay with that?” Imogen asks. “Him being incommunicado? And not being ready?”
I make a face and shrug a third time. “I mean, do I have a choice? It’s not something you can force.” I groan. “And why are we talking about me? This was supposed to be about Audra.”
Audra looks around at everyone. “Why is this supposed to be about me? I’m fine. Everything is hunky-fucking-dory in Audra’s life. Legit, I’ve never been happier.”
I sigh. “I talked to Franco.”
She goes…opaque. “Okay?”
“Let me just preface this with the fact that the only reason Franco even talked to me about this was because he loves you and he’s worried you’re not dealing with this very well.”
