Page 41 of The Work Boyfriend

“I’m so sorry,” I said, leading her into the bedroom, and turning on the lights in our bathroom, then handing over a box of tissues. “I don’t even know what to say. It just came out. Rob’s sister, my sister, they’re both pregnant. A couple of glasses of wine and nonsense pops out of my mouth—”

“It’s okay,” Jen said. “It’s not your fault. Garrett and I have been fighting about kids for weeks. I want them, he doesn’t.” She laughed a little. “Sometimes I wish Marianne would learn to shut up.”

“Shereallyhas a problem with that,” I said.

“She does, right?” Jen said. “Can you give me a minute?”

“Of course, I’ll wait out here.”

The water ran in the sink. I thought of all the times Rob had been in there shaving in the morning, the sound of the tap turning off and on as he shaved, rinsed the blade, shaved, rinsed the blade. I wished my furniture in the bedroom wasn’t so beaten up, wished that I hadn’t thrown all my rejected outfits all over the floor. Jen came out of the bathroom a moment later, and saw me sitting on the bed.

“Sorry about this mess.”

“Kelly, good grief, please don’t even worry about it. You’ve never seen our place, but I can assure you, it’s piles of video games, DVDs, tapes, various chips bags, and now the mess from the presents Garrett’s family sent. He’s dumped it all in a pile in the living room while he watchedLord of the Rings.”

“Are you sure you’re okay? Did you spoil your makeup? I’ve got cotton and makeup remover—”

“Please, don’t fuss,” Jen said. “I’ll be fine.”

She sat down on the bed, near the foot. The space between us was awkward and odd—it’s not like I imagined having a serious heart-to-heart with Garrett’s girlfriend tonight.

“It’s such a sore spot, us wanting different things.”

“It might not seem like it, but I do know how you feel,” I said.

“We had a huge blowout on Boxing Day. I’ve been sick. This bronchitis that won’t go away. I want to go back home, hate this city, hate the weather. Get married, start ourreallives.”

Jen smoothed the folds on her jeans, pulled her sweater down. I didn’t know what to say, and absolutely didn’t want to put my foot in it again.

“If he was remotely interested in having kids, which he’s not—it’s all one big mess,” she said. “At least you’re getting married.”

“I’m not sure I want to get married,” I said.

“You don’t?”

“I’m living with it for now.” Admitting it seemed easy. But the rumble of emotions underneath threated to sweep me away. Rob and Jen were the same, and if it wasn’t so ironic, it might actually be funny to swap, set them up. What the hell was I thinking?

“You seem so settled here.”

“The condo’s a good investment. Rob’s nothing if not a very practical man when it comes to finances. Being settled is easy; a permanent, legal, binding commitment is much harder.” I rummaged through my side table. “Here you go.” I handed over my spare makeup bag. “If you need powder or anything, help yourself—there’s tons of samples in here. I collect them unnecessarily.”

“Thanks Kelly, you’re”—she sighed—“being too nice.”

“Hey! No tears, remember. It’ll all work itself out. I’m going to head back out there. Take as much time as you need.”

Garrett came into the bedroom as I walked out. He held a tumbler of wine tightly in his hand. I wanted to reach out and grab him, clutch him tightly to me like in the best drunken hugs.

“She’s all right,” I said. “She’s not used to the asshole Kelly.”

“You’re not an asshole,” he said quietly.

Not surprisingly, none of the daydreams I’d had over the last few months about finding myself in my bedroom with Garrett included him being mute with shock over the fact that his girlfriend had burst into tears at a dinner party. My sister, Rob’s sister, Jen wanting a baby and not being able to have it. I didn’t get it. My mother warned me my biological clock would tick into oblivion the more I ignored it, and no amount of me telling her it was simply absent made her believe I was being truthful. Still, I made a mental note to double check my birth control pills and perhaps abstain. The last thing Rob and I needed was to throw a baby into this mix.

I closed our bedroom door to give them a bit of privacy. Every bit of me wanted to hover outside and listen, see how he was reacting, listen to what they were saying, justknowwhat was going on, but I’d interfered enough. The whole episode had a bad soap opera tinge to it, like something my mother might see onCoronation Street. First dinner party: ruined.

Back in the living room, Rob was making small talk with Cash, and Marianne was sitting on the couch, sipping her wine, and looking off into space.

“I think I should go in there, you know, offer Jen some moral support,” she said.

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