Page 13 of Better Than Baby

The first embryo transfer failed.Yes, it was disappointing but not completely unexpected. We’d done our research and learned that this was a fairly common phenomenon. It could have been any number of factors, and there was nothing to do but try again in four to six weeks.

Lena was more upset than we were. We were almost conditioned to expect the worst at this point, but she took it hard.

The poor thing was distraught and apologetic. And Aaron was a rock star, comforting our surrogate while juggling an interview with a hot new designer from the UK and reining in our naughty puppy, who’d just enrolled in puppy training boot camp.

That wasn’t going so well either.

Side note: Our dog-whisperer-slash-drill-sergeant compiled a list of minor infractions that made us feel like the worst dog owners ever. Apparently, Murphy was spoiled, overstimulated, and had a bad habit of jumping on every new person he met. Maybe that was true, and yeah…maybe he did rule the roost. But he was also just a few months old, so give the guy a break already.

On top of that, I’d had to travel to the West Coast three weeks in a row for work. One of our new hires had acquired a new case with a cable network studio and he was too green to handle it. Someone less easily intimidated was needed to deal with the acerbic entertainment assholes, and that was me.

In other words, life was crazy busy, and the madness was a welcome respite. Whatever free time we had now was filled with a slobbery, enthusiastic puppy who loved walks, playtime at the park, and romping around our yard with our neighbor’s mutt, Lucy.

Life just…went on.

And when Lena was scheduled for the second embryo transfer, it was a regular Wednesday…no big deal. We didn’t discuss it that night or check in with her every other day for a status update. We pushed it aside and focused on our jobs and each other.

We barbecued with our friends, went to Provincetown with Curt and Jack, started taking yoga classes at Lena’s studio, and planned a weekend for my folks to visit during the summer.

“August is good.” Aaron chopped veggies at the kitchen island, flitting a meaningful gaze between Murphy, me, and the sneakers I’d left under the table.

“Who are you talking to?” I tugged the shoelace out of Murphy’s mouth.

Your mother, Aaron mouthed and gestured to his earbuds, his eyes blown wide.

I chuckled. “Hi, Mom.”

“Matt just got home from doing the basket court sport. Yes…oh, I know. Very sweaty and—” He squeaked as I wrapped my arms around his waist and buried my nose in the crook of his neck.

“Are you all right, honey?” My mom asked. “Aaron?”

“Y-yes, I’m fine.” He scowled, inclining his chin toward his cell. “But I think Matty would love a chance to talk to you.”

I fixed him with a deadpan stare before pulling his earbuds out and picking up his phone. “Hi, there. What’s happening in August?”

“Your dad and I would love to visit and meet Murphy while he’s still an actual puppy. Aaron told me he ate your sunglasses this morning.”

“He did?”That little asshole.I leaned against the counter and shot a dirty look at the adorable Lab grinning up at me. “He’s lucky he’s cute.”

“Who? Me or Murphy?” Aaron shook his hips flirtatiously.

I waggled my brows and settled in for a mostly one-sided conversation with my mother. I stole slices of cucumber from the cutting board, sharing a few nibbles with Murph in between “uh-huhs” and “oh, reallys.” My mom’s news usually covered anything from the neighbors’ overgrown hydrangea bush to my dad’s postretirement obsession with golf.

“I’m taking lessons now,” she was saying. “You should dust off your clubs, sweetheart. We can play together. Aaron golfs, right?”

“Oh…sure. Aaron loves golf,” I repeated for his benefit.

He whirled around with one hand cocked on his hip. “Say what?”

I snickered, catching the cucumber slice he threw at my head and popping it into my mouth. “Absolutely loves it. He’s got a killer stroke too.”

Aaron gaped at me and whispered to Murphy, “Your dad is in so much trouble.”

I bit back a laugh just as an incoming call interrupted my mom’s plan to set a tee time. I checked the caller ID, forgetting this was Aaron’s phone.

Lena.

Another cucumber slice flew at my head and grazed my cheek. Aaron set the knife aside and raised his arms with a triumphant “Whoop,” oblivious to my sudden rapid heartbeat.