Doctor Dearest

Pregnancy looks good on her. It’s so subtle now, but I can feel the changes, and it’s primal, I think, the idea of knowing she’s carrying my child, knowing she’s mine in a way no ring or vow or ceremony can mimic. I hold her close as she orgasms, and then I get greedy and give her another. I want us to stay in this bathroom locked away forever. I want to pretend that party downstairs doesn’t exist.

It does though, of course. The high ends sharply as we stand catching our breaths. My scrub pants are gathered at my ankles and Natalie’s panties are slightly torn. She has a bruise on her lower back from when I accidentally knocked her back into the sink faucet. I spin her around and bend down to look at it.

“Does it hurt?”

“Not at all,” she swears.

I press a kiss to the skin beside it and fix her panties.

We don’t discuss an escape plan, but I turn on the shower, and after Natalie cleans herself up, she slinks out of the bathroom first.

I feel like a grade-A asshole as I rinse off. I’ve really messed up here, with her. I had no intention of following her up here to seduce her. She deserves better than what we’re doing—sneaking off at parties, screwing in bathrooms, keeping this all a secret.

I have to talk to Noah.

After I change and head downstairs, I immediately go in search of him, but it’s not as easy as I’d hoped it would be. I know everyone here. They’re my friends. On another night, I’d be glad to stop and talk to them. Now, it’s an inconvenience. I can’t muster enough energy to shoot the shit about college football when my relationship with my best friend and his sister, the woman I’m in love with, hangs precariously by a thread of semantics. Up until tonight, I could sleep at night because I’d convinced myself I wasn’t lying to Noah; I was just waiting for a good time to tell him about Natalie and me in person. From Noah’s point of view, however, I could see how he might think it was a lie of omission so, I’m sorry, Greg, I can’t really get into whether or not LSU is going to win it all this year or if it’ll be another year for ’Bama. I don’t fucking care.

On my way through the kitchen, I spot Natalie on the couch talking with Lindsey. She must have arrived while we were upstairs, and I’m relieved to see her. She’s an ally in this. She sends me a small wave and I nod back before turning toward the garden out back. That’s where I find Noah manning the grill.

Miguel, Daniel, and Joel are with him, drinking beers. The last time I saw them was at the bar when they all found out how I really feel toward Natalie. Panic spikes my blood. They’re good guys, but there’s still a chance they accidentally (or on purpose) let something slip with Noah. I definitely don’t want him finding out about Natalie and me from someone else. There’s no way that will go down well.

I chance a glance at Daniel, and he holds his beer up to me in a small salute. It’s an act of solidarity, a way of telling me he hasn’t fucked me over big time.

Noah turns as I close the back door and waves me over.

“Noah, hey, can I talk to you for a second?” I ask hurriedly.

“Later. I have to tend these ribs or they’ll burn.” He lathers up barbecue sauce on a brush and coats the ribs until they shine.

Ribs. Right. I’m seconds away from flipping the grill on its side, but sure, Noah, tend your meat.

A beer is passed to me from a nearby ice chest. Daniel’s holding it out and I think it’s a peace offering, a way of saying, You got the girl, but no hard feelings.

I accept it happily. The drink I had earlier was downed in three sips, and this one disappears just as quickly. I don’t go for a third even though it’s tempting. This night could go a million different ways, and it’s probably best if I have my wits about me.

“How’s everything been while I’ve been away? Connor?” Noah asks. “Anyone catch your eye? I heard Shannon was in town for a lecture.”

My voice comes out strained. “Oh, yeah, she was. We’re just friends though. You know that.”

Daniel and Miguel catch each other’s gazes and then clear their throats awkwardly. This is so screwed up and I try again to get Noah to come talk to me.

“Later, man. The ribs.”

THE RIBS.

I’m going to flush his ribs down the toilet.

I realize then that it’s not going to happen tonight. Noah’s been drinking and all our friends are around. I should just relax for the evening and worry about this in the morning, but that’s easier said than done.