Getting Her Back

“I kept counting backwards from 100. Over and over. For three hours.”

I start laughing as he pulls out of me and sets me down. “And here I thought you were staring at me like that because you wanted me.”

“Oh, I was,” he says, pulling on his pants. “Believe me. But it was also a little concentration.”

We both get ourselves together and I wince as we open the door, expecting someone from the staff to tell us we’re banned from ever coming back. But there’s no one, and it makes me wonder how often stuff like this happens and goes unnoticed. Does that mean I should do it a little more? More of Christian’s little adventures.

“Still hungry?” he asks as we leave.

“Hell yeah.”

13

The next morning Ellen and I get breakfast before work. We used to do it every Tuesday, but less now since both of us have been so busy. Usually our brunches consist of Ellen spilling the details of her latest escapade—today included. Ellen likes to have her fun on weeknights because she feels like there’s less pressure. Both people have to get to work in the morning, so there’s no question of whether or not you’re going to spend your days off together or perhaps have a second night stand.

“So,” Ellen says, shoveling a piece of omelet into her mouth, “we finish, and we both finished so everything was fine. Like, not great, but fine, right? But he’s giving me all those signs, like he wants to go again and go all night type of thing. And that wasn’t going to happen. I swear, Audrey, I think he almost cried.”

I laugh. “Really?”

“Literal, actual tears. I mean, I know I’m amazing, but this is the first time that my vagina has reduced a man to weeping.”

“I can’t say that mine has done that.”

She rolls her eyes. “You’re better off. It’s very disconcerting.”

I raise my glass of coffee in cheers. “I actually have a story of my own.”

“Oh?” Ellen freezes. “Audrey Robinson has a tale of debauchery to share? Please do.”

“As debaucherous as you can be when you’re trying to get pregnant with the same man.” I fill her in on how I volunteered Christian to be the class’s nude model, and the little quickie we had in the closet.

“Holy shit, girl. Way to go.”

I clear my throat. “So we went to dinner, and basically gorged ourselves on pasta. And we talked a lot. Even though we didn’t talk about anything we actually need to talk about. It was…nice. It reminded me of when we were first getting to know each other.”

“Is that good or bad?”

“I’m not sure?” I say. I have so many things I need to ask him. Why he did what he did, and even more, why he never talked to me again. Never even tried. I think that might have hurt more than his words in the bar. Was I really not worth even reaching out to? But now, that hurt is contrasted by his kindness and all the pleasure. I’m definitely confused. “I never thought I would enjoy being around him again. Frankly, apart from the good sex, I thought this whole thing was going to be a nightmare. Basically, I said yes to prove to him that I could.”

Ellen thinks for a second. “Well, I’m glad that it’s going better than you thought it would. But where does that leave you with him?”

“I have more,” I say. “After the restaurant, we did end up going back to the place on the Upper West Side. It felt…perfect and natural. We had sex two more times.”

“You’re fucking joking.” Ellen’s eyebrows rise into her hairline.

“I’m not.”

She starts to laugh, loud enough that the people around us in the immediate vicinity start to look. “Well damn.”

I’m pleasantly sore after last night, and three chances for him to get me pregnant raises the chances by…some. I’m not ovulating, so it’s not likely, but there’s always a tiny chance. And I also had…fun. I liked that I was with Christian, and it was like going back in time to where everything was perfect between us. And it was easy for us both to ignore the reality staring us in the face, the chasm of unsaid things between us that we need to talk about. But why would we do that when we can ignore it in favor of pleasure and easy conversation?

“I know, I have to talk to him about it,” I say. “But it’s nice to have a break.”

“And you deserve that. It’s okay not to be broken up and a living tragedy all the time.”

“I’m not a living tragedy.”

Ellen laughs. “Of course you’re not. And that’s good. I just don’t want you getting in so deep that you can’t get back out again without going through the same thing.”

“I can’t say I haven’t thought about that.”