6. Bridget
CHAPTER 6
Bridget
Ethan stayed through dinner before I cut him free with a short kiss at the door. For the life of me, I cannot figure out what he possibly sees in me, and I cannot let him continue chasing me. It’s a waste of both of our time. Especially now with my cyst. While it’s unlikely, and I’m basing most of my information on Google because I couldn’t ask the nurse any questions in front of Ethan, I’ve found out that while this procedure may not make me infertile, the likelihood of me having children will significantly decrease. If my age hasn’t already impacted that.
There’s a sadness that lingers in the back of my brain about it. I’ve never wanted children. But knowing now with certainty that the odds really are against me brings out a melancholy in me I didn’t know existed. Not sadness over not having children, but over the loss of the choice. I’ve felt good about my decision not to have them, but now the choice might not even be mine. And I feel guilty over that when there are women out there who are heartbroken over not conceiving, and I’m heartbroken over the lack of a choice. What is wrong with me?
And then there’s Becka. She’s going to start pestering me with questions about my test results, and if I tell her the truth, she’ll want to stay and take care of me, especially since she already knows that my parents can’t help. And she doesn’t know about the surprise anniversary trip yet. She’ll try to bail on that to help me, and Robert’s worked hard planning this for her. I’m going to have to tell partial truths and find someone who’s not Ethan to help me.
Like clockwork, my phone lights up with a text.
Becka
Any word from the doctor yet?
Are we drinking coffee or wine?
Does coffee mean everything’s fine, and wine means it’s gone to shit?
You get it.
Coffee
Seriously?
Yup, not cancer.
Also, go ahead and prepare that text for Robert
You’re going to be sitting on his face in the near future
Wait, does this mean you’re seeing Ethan again?
I saw him earlier tonight.
Then why are you talking to me?
He left a little bit ago. No sleepovers tonight. Early meeting in the morning.
For real this time.
Can we grab coffee tomorrow before?
Sure, if it’s quick.
Are you texting Robert?
He’s in the bathroom right now.
It’s one of those “I’m pooping, but I’m really watching videos” situations.
Not the best timing. I’ll do it during coffee tomorrow morning.
7:30 at our spot
____________
The next morning, I oversleep for the first time in over twenty years. I could blame it on my period and the pain I was in. Or I could chalk it up to the bad news the nurse shared with me. But I’m pretty sure the anomaly could be pinpointed back to Ethan. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw his deep green ones. And that dimple. That fucking dimple. It haunts me. What is so alluring about it?
I walk into The Daily Grind feeling sweaty and flustered and spot Becka immediately.
“You’re late.” There is a hint of awe in her voice as a Cheshire Cat-like grin stretches across her face. She thrusts an Americano into my hand as I pull out my chair and sit.
“What’s with the creepy smile?”
“Did Ethan come back for round two?”
I nearly spit out my coffee. “What? No. I went to bed after we texted.”
“But you’re never late. You practically worship numbers, and last I checked, telling time is like, all numbers.”
“I’m here to help you get your mojo back with Robert.” I texted him after I was done with Becka last night. He’d needed me to keep her distracted this morning so he could pack some of her items for their secret trip. They need some time away together without their daughter, and I’m happy to help. I didn’t tell him about my bargain with Becka, but I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.
I thrust my hand across the table, gesturing for her to give me her phone. She snatches it away quickly and holds it against her chest. “Nope, I want to hear about this date first.”
Sucking in a deep breath, I let everything out in one breath. “It’s not a big deal. I tried to cancel, but he knocked on my door at the same time I sent the text. I’d started my period and my cramps were brutal, but he said he understood because he has five sisters, and he helped and brought me tortellini from Mangia Bene. Turns out he’s a sous chef there, and we ate and talked for a little bit, and there was no sex, and it was fine and then he left. Happy?”
“That’s a lot of information in a short amount of time. I’m honestly kinda impressed.”
“I’m nothing if not efficient, and I have a meeting soon.” And I’m trying to avoid talking about my doctor’s visit, so I’m distracting you. “Now, text your husband.”
“Fine! I already have it drafted.” She slides her phone over to me, and I nod my approval.
“Send it.” I grin into my cup as I take a sip.
She taps her phone a few times and relaxes into her chair. “It’s sent.” Seconds later, her phone buzzes on the table, and she looks at it with wide eyes.
“Is that Robert already? What’d he say?”
Becka’s face turns a deep crimson as her eyes meet mine. “He said, ‘Fuck yeah, babe, suffocate me with that sweet pussy.’” She whispers the last part, her eyes darting around as though she’s worried someone might hear.
“This is going to be so good for you! I have a feeling your rut is ending soon.”
“I don’t get it, though. That’s not at all what I expected him to say. He sounds excited.”
I had no idea it had gotten this bad between them. “Why wouldn’t he be excited? How often does he do that kind of stuff to you?”
“Um, like, never lately. Ever since we had Hallie, we basically have to schedule our sexy times, and even then, we rush through it with little foreplay, afraid she might wake up or interrupt us. She normally sleeps in our bed, so when we want to have adult time, it’s usually not long before Hallie wanders into our room, wanting to snuggle with us. She doesn’t seem to sleep as well in her bed.”
“And that’s another reason why I don’t want kids,” I say. “Wait, Hallie is four. Are you telling me you’ve had boring sex for the past four years?”
“I wouldn’t say boring, just… routine. It’s been a while since we’ve mixed things up.”
“Do you ever ask for what you want? Boss him around or even push his head down there?”
“Oh, hell no. Even texting him something like that was a first. That’s why I made that bargain with you. I didn’t think you’d hold up your end. It’s hard for me to ask for what I want in the bedroom, especially that. I always feel so awkward because I’m too much of a people pleaser. I wish I were one of those women who own their sexuality, like the ones I read about in romance books.”
“You shouldn’t feel bad or nervous about asking for what you want. I do it all the time. In the office and in the bedroom. It’s always a no if you don’t ask. And from the looks of that text, it seems like Robert isn’t upset you did. And the whole point of our bargain was to push each other out of our comfort zones. Right?”
“I didn’t even think about that, but you’re right. Are you going to see Ethan again?”
“I might not have a choice,” I mutter under my breath.
“Come again? Always with the breadcrumbs.”
“Well, he does make my favorite dish at my favorite restaurant so I’m sure we’ll see each other.” I leave out the part that I might have to let him take me to and from my surgery.
____________
Over the next few days, I think about asking a handful of different coworkers for help. Think about it, but don’t act on it. It takes very little small talk with each person to figure out that I don’t actually know or trust any of them well enough to ask for that kind of favor. Fuck, Becka is right. I need more friends.
I love my life and the limited people I allow in it, but when you are as fiercely independent as I am and suddenly find yourself needing to depend on outside help, you start rethinking your choices to keep everyone at arm’s length.
“Bridget, can I see you in my office?” our CEO Mark asks from my office door, pulling me out of my thoughts.
“Sure,” I say curiously, following him down the hall. I take the seat across from him as he taps at his computer, not giving me his full attention.
“I want to make sure all of the reports are up to date before you take off on your little vacation.”
“I’m having surgery, not going on a vacation,” I snap. I know this man didn’t bring me to his office to talk about something that could’ve been an email.
“Ah, that’s right. What’s this for again?”
“Respectfully, Mark, you’re not allowed to ask me that, but it’s fine. I’m having a cyst and ovary removed.” The rules don’t apply to men like this. He has enough money to make any problem disappear, so I opt for honesty.
“Trying to become one of the guys?” He laughs, proud of his joke as I swallow down the retort I really want to make at his blatant misogyny.
“I still have more balls than half the assholes you have working around here,” I shoot back.
“That you do. How long till you’re back up and running?”
“I’ll be off for a couple weeks, but working remotely for a month after that, so six weeks out of the office.” I need him to see me as irreplaceable.
“Sounds good,” he says, still looking at his computer as he waves me off.
During the walk back to my office, it becomes painfully clear that I may need to consider Ethan’s offer for help. The quicker my recovery, the sooner I can get back to work, where I belong.