Page 74 of The Best Worst Thing

Thirty-Three

Okay,” Mari said, talking over Nicole and Valerie’s chatter as she ran her hand across the menu.

They were at Nicole’s birthday dinner—the final night of a girls’ weekend Valerie had flown out to California for.

The festivities had gone, all things considered, exceptionally well.

“I think we get the citrus salad, broccolini, and maybe two pastas and a pizza? Or two pizzas? How hungry are you guys?”

“I’m seven months pregnant,” Valerie said, rifling through the breadbasket. “I could eat all that myself.”

“I’m easy,” Nicole said. “Whatever you guys want.”

“Love it when Nic claims to be chill,” a voice said from behind the table. Paige plopped herself down in the booth next to Nicole, then dropped her head onto her sister’s shoulder. “Considering she’s literally the least chill person I’ve ever met.”

“Wait, why are … ? Aren’t you supposed to be in Portland with Nina?”

“Yeah, well, Mari called me last night and told me to get my butt on a plane. Asked me what kind of awful human being would miss her sister’s thirty-third birthday?”

“Uh, any human being? It’s a total throwaway birthday.”

Paige chuckled, then turned to Valerie, told her how happy she was to meet her, and instantly began rambling about how she couldn’t wait to meet her niece, how she was pretty sure her ovaries had just turned on, how she’d just started seeing someone, how she was very confused and probably just midcycle and could someone please get her a drink.

Valerie, glowing, laughed right along with her.

“They make a good old-fashioned here,” Mari said as she inched the cocktail menu toward Paige.

“And this fun twist on an Aperol spritz, but with tequila and habaneros. Always appreciate tequila at an Italian restaurant. Although it’s that celebrity-backed, hardly Mexican crap, which you know is total bullshit, and now the billboards are everywhere, and I think PS is going to win an award for it, and”—Nicole’s face, for a split second, had fallen, and Mari saw it—“you know what, I think we need at least three pizzas now. Squash blossom? Mushroom? Bianca? Paige, the Bianca, I think you can eat …”

Paige was staring at a dinner roll.

Nicole was staring at her cuticles.

Mari was staring at the menu, still talking about pizza.

And Valerie was just sitting there, extremely pregnant, staring back at them.

“What’d I miss?” Valerie said.

“Nothing,” Nicole said. “I vote zucchini blossom, since we already have a—”

“Can someone just tell me what’s going on? Please?”

Paige nodded at Nicole. Mari reached for Nicole’s wrist and gave her a squeeze. And Nicole—pulse pounding—took a deep breath, then began tearing a hunk of ciabatta to absolute shreds.

“Earlier this summer,” she said, “when I first found out about Gabe, back when I thought the transfer would never work, I reconnected with this guy from my old job. Nothing ever happened between us. We were friends, you know? Work friends.”

Valerie nodded. Mari and Paige sat in silence, looking on. The server stopped by to take their order, but Mari shooed him away.

“Things got out of hand. After the first ultrasound, I realized I could never forgive Gabe. That I didn’t even want to.

I think—well, I know—that the infertility stuff, it’s not what broke our marriage.

And it wasn’t his years of cheating either.

I mean, it was all too much, but I don’t think that’s why I couldn’t take him back. ”

“Then why not?” Valerie said.

“Because,” Nicole said, “I think my marriage had been over for a long time. For years, there was this emptiness that I felt inside, this disconnection I felt from the world around me, and I’d just assumed it was the baby.

That motherhood would make everything click.

That a baby would make me feel whole, make my life mean something again, make the world I was building with Gabe make sense the way it used to.

And by the time I realized what had actually happened, you were already pregnant and …

I was already falling in love with someone else. ”

Valerie burst into tears.

Nicole put her head in her hands.

“I’m so sorry. It was an accident. It was supposed to be this stupid little thing.

It got so out of control. Every minute I spent with him, I felt so good.

And then whenever I talked to you, I felt so bad.

I felt like I was betraying you and this baby and everything we worked so hard for.

But it’s over now, I promise. It’s been over for months.

I chose the baby. I chose being a good mother. And I am so, so sorry.”

Valerie, drying her eyes, was quiet for a minute.

Nicole pushed her breadcrumbs into a tiny pile.

And then, finally, Valerie said this:

“Why would you ever think I wouldn’t want you to fall in love again?”

Nicole stared at her. “Because I wanted to be the kind of person you were proud to make a mother. I wanted you to really believe it, that I deserved this. I already put all that on the line, walking out on my marriage. Not even bothering to try and repair it. I wanted to be the kind of mother you are to your boys. I went through hell to be a mom, I …”

“Nicole, no. You’ve got this all wrong.”

“I don’t, though. I want to be the kind of mother your mom was to you. I want to do this one thing perfectly. It’s the least I can do, after everything I’ve put you through.” Nicole glanced at Valerie’s stomach. “After everything I’m going to put her through.”

“Listen to me,” Valerie said. “I love you. You are one of the best friends I’ve ever had.

I think God brought us together for a reason.

And I have no doubt in my mind that when you meet your little girl, you’re going to put her first. But to think you believe that motherhood is some kind of punishment, that you need to pay for what you’ve been through, that your kid is going to have a better life because you turned your back on love …

I think you know better. I think you’re just scared.

And I think you’re making a huge mistake. ”

Nicole’s eyes welled.

Valerie grabbed her hand.

“What’s his name?”

“Logan.”

“Where is he now?”

“Twenty blocks from here,” Nicole said. “Or Chicago. Probably Chicago. I don’t know.”

“You have to find him.”

Nicole shook her head. “It’s more than that.

It’s more than you thinking I’m a good mother.

That’s not the only reason why it ended.

That’s not really something I could even see until he was gone.

He wants kids. He says he doesn’t need them, but it’s not true.

He did, at least before we were together, and he’d be the most incredible father, and he’s either going to leave, or he’s going to stay and hate me for it, or I’ll hate me for it, and I …

I’m just done fighting my body. IVF is wonderful, it’s a miracle, I’m so grateful for it, but I don’t want to go back to that chapter of my life.

And adoption, it’s not just this solution, you know?

It’s a whole other journey—and a huge responsibility.

I don’t want to bring my kid into the world, and then get so wrapped up in having the next one I forget to love the one I’ve got.

And Logan, he deserves his own children.

He should have that. He should have it be easy, and—”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Paige said.

“Wh-what?”

“I mean, goddamnit, Nicole. Listen to yourself. This man loves you, he’s told you that he’s all in, that he understands you’re done, that he’ll do whatever’s best for you, that you’re enough, that loving your kid is enough, and that’s still not good enough for you?

Because you think he needs biological children?

Because you think it’s your job to give that to him? ”

“Well, yeah, I—”

“What do you think is going to happen when I fall in love? If I want kids? You think the same damn thing isn’t going to happen to me?

That I’m not going to have to build a family that looks a little different?

Or do you not even think about me? About anyone who isn’t experiencing the exact same struggle as you?

About anyone who doesn’t happen to have a zillion dollars to solve their problems?

I mean, you have this podcast, so I know you know better.

What happened to you was horrible, okay?

But you are not the first fucking person on this planet to go to war with your body. ”

“I don’t think that. I …”

But she did think that, didn’t she? How else would she have gotten through the past few years?

She’d been in survival mode, and she’d lost perspective.

You don’t go through what she went through and wake up thinking about anybody other than yourself.

But those days were over—they were long gone.

And here she was, clinging to that same old story.

She was full of shit, wasn’t she? Every inch of her armor, scar tissue. Trauma, thick and ugly, holding her back, forcing her hand. Telling her what to do, who to love, when to run.

“Paige, I’m so sorry,” Nicole said. “I never—”

“If he says he picks you, let him pick you. If that makes you feel guilty, then do the fucking work. Because this happens to people like me every single day. This is the price we pay for love.”

Nicole stared at her sister, heart racing.

Had it really been this simple all along?

What had she done?

And how was she ever going to make it right?