Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Jason
Lunch was more than I had hoped for, which only went to prove that my expectations when it came to Franky St. James were startlingly low.
“I usually eat in my office.”
“Good thing I brought supplies.” I patted my backpack. “So what’s the deal with that guy?”
“That’s Dr. Bilson, head of my department.”
The guy who got the job she wanted and who she slept with a couple of years ago. Also on the list.
I followed her through the hallways of the university, which yielded plenty of funny looks. Of course, people were going to wonder what the beautiful brain was doing with a lug like me. Let ’em.
In her office, a pretty brunette behind a desk looked up. “Oh, Dr. St. James, Dr. Bilson was looking—” She broke off on seeing me. “Hello.”
“Hey there.”
“Dr. Bilson found me. In class. Where I was supposed to be.” She waved behind her. “This is—”
“Jason Isner,” the desk girl said. “Hi! I had no idea you …” She trailed off, looking to the professor for guidance.
“Old friend of the family,” I said. “Planning for my post-retirement life. Thinking of going back to school.”
“Oh, wow!”
“This is Jolene,” Franky said. “She works for the department part-time and is also a very talented malacologist. Jo, I’m taking a quick lunch in my office before the graduate seminar.”
“Got it! Do not disturb.”
We headed inside her office, which was about what I expected. Books and papers covered every shelf and surface, while the walls held diplomas and framed art of snail shells. All very Franky.
She moved to a small fridge and withdrew a minuscule sandwich.
“That’s it?”
“I also have some fruit.” She pointed at a solitary apple sitting on her desk.
“Good thing I came prepared.” I removed two containers from my backpack, along with a bottle of dressing, cutlery, and napkins.
She blinked. “You brought lunch for me?”
“Yep. I’m not convinced you’re taking this nutrition thing seriously, Doc.” I had no idea but seeing that sandwich firmed my resolve. “I made a salad, and before you can say ‘kale sucks,’ be aware that you won’t even notice it because the dressing is so damn good.”
I set it all out on her desk while she looked on, incredulous.
“You made the salad from scratch?”
“Yep. The dressing, too.” I opened the salad bowls and let her gaze at its colorful glory. Leafy greens, grilled chicken, hard-boiled eggs, vine-ripened tomatoes, red onions—all miraculously still in place despite traveling in my backpack. “And not a nut in sight.”
“This is awfully kind, Jason.”
I wasn’t doing it to be kind. I was doing it because I cared about her well-being and the well-being of our kid.
“Now let’s eat, and then we can talk.”
We sat in surprisingly companionable silence, which was usually hard for me because I was chatty by nature. Something about the doc calmed me, though, even when I was mad as all hell at her. When we were done, I cleaned up, passed her a bottle of water, and told her to hydrate.
“So that guy got your job?”
She dabbed her mouth with a napkin. “It wasn’t my job, per se. Dr. Bilson does have quite a lot of leadership experience, and it worked out because now I can devote myself to the baby.”
I supposed I should be glad that her career would take a back seat to our child’s welfare, but something about her statement niggled. I didn’t like the idea that the doc couldn’t have it all, especially when we were in this together.
“He was on the list.”
“Purely to ensure a bias-free method. Now, why do you think I’m trying to cut you out? And what has it to do with our respective sex lives?”
I had to give it to her. The doc didn’t beat around the bush.
“I don’t always express myself well. Along with being annoyed I wasn’t getting to have sex with a hot woman in my niece’s childhood bedroom during a family Halloween party, I was pissed that you were giving me permission to fuck anything that moves.
I don’t need your permission, but I sure as hell don’t like the idea that you think I’m so desperate for it, I can’t keep it in my pants for a while. ”
She opened her mouth. I held up my hand.
“Not finished. Mostly, I was annoyed about my father sending me a picture of his replacement family, which makes me a total dick because who gets annoyed at seeing pictures of little kids in Halloween costumes? Apparently I do. But I’m guessing I don’t like pictures of my father because it reminds me of his infidelity and how he screwed over my mom.
I was possibly projecting some of that onto our situation.
I can hardly look like a good dad-to-be if I’m catting around, can I? ”
She remained close-lipped.
“That wasn’t rhetorical.”
“Oh, right. So you feel weird about sleeping with someone while the woman carrying your child waits in the wings? And this brings up memories of your father’s bad behavior?”
All she was missing was a couch, the Freud beard, and a German accent.
“It doesn’t seem right. I don’t want to be … like him.”
“You’re very self-aware, do you know that?”
My body flushed at what sounded like a compliment. “Well, I do tend to act out and then figure out I was a big baby later. Does that amount to self-awareness?”
She rolled in her lips.
“What?”
“I think you have a very clear sense of honor, Jason. Your father has repeatedly disappointed you, has broken what you consider to be the code of a parent. Now I’ve put you in a position where you’re worried about looking like a creep.
If you sleep with someone and everyone knows you have a so-called ‘baby mama’ back in Chicago, the optics are concerning. ”
That was my baby mama, smart as a whip. “In a nutshell.”
“I understand your predicament, but I still can’t agree to be on deck for your needs because it would make you feel better about where you decide to insert your penis. I’m not here for your convenience.”
“Damn, you think it’s convenient I want to bang you? I’ll tell you right now it is very inconvenient.”
“I can see that.” She picked up what looked like a fake snail on her desk, turned it over, then put it down again.
“I’ve had chances, you know,” I said.
“I’m sure you have.” Was that a tremor in her voice?
“Plenty of ’em. Hot blonde in Dallas last week couldn’t keep her hands off me.”
“Yes, the gossip sites couldn’t keep their hands off it, either.”
So, she had seen that photo. To be honest, it was a good thing there was photographic evidence because the memory of Farrah was kind of fuzzy, not because I’d had too much to drink or the night got away from me.
There was only so long a man could be entertained by a pretty pair of tits accompanying dull-as-dirt conversation.
I had found myself bored stupid halfway through my first Sam Adams Winter ale, long before Farrah’s breathily verbalized offer to “suck you so hard you’ll see stars. ”
Franky raised her gaze to mine. “That must have been very gratifying for you. Still got it.”
This woman was impossible! I stood and pointed. “I didn’t go for it, even though I could have. I don’t need your permission to bang anyone, Doc. We’re not a couple.”
“Exactly the point I’ve been making. But I will leave it to you to decide how you want to deal with your epididymal hypertension.”
“Oh, please educate me.”
“Commonly known as blue balls.”
I clutched my chest, all affront. “I think you know exactly how I’ll be dealing with it. Playing a little Taylor Swift and imagining you stroking your pus—”
“Jason!” She burst out laughing, and that sound was enough to lift that slab of pressure off my chest.
I retook my seat. “So, you and that Bilson guy?”
“There is no me and ‘that Bilson guy.’ I know I indicated at Halloween that I might want to sleep with someone. However, I was merely making the point that I could. Dr. Bilson would be the last person on my list.”
“And you don’t want to with anyone else?”
“It had been a while before …” She waved her hand between us. “So that should tide me over for the foreseeable future.”
“Glad to give you some spank bank material. Or whatever a lady calls it.”
“Rosie calls it the rub hub. Or Netflicks.” She sounded so serious, so Francesca. I loved when she got that look on her face.
I’d gone into this, offering up my superman genes so my kid would be athletic and strong.
Now I was thinking that if our little one didn’t have a sporty bone in their body but instead grew up with this woman’s intellectual curiosity and interesting way of looking at things, I would be unbelievably blessed.
She met my gaze head-on. “I feel like something else is bothering you.”
She was right, but then she so often was.
“It’s killing me, not being able to share the news.” Mostly, it hurt not to be able to talk about it with her while I was throwing a hissy fit about not getting any. “Eventually we have to tell people, unless you don’t want to.”
We had verbally discussed the secrecy aspect during the trying phase, but there was nothing in the contract about who we would tell and when it would happen.
Sure, it would eventually have to get out because I couldn’t be in my kid’s life incognito, but the longer we kept it under wraps, the deeper the wound of inadequacy festered.
While my mind ran all the way to the finish line, Franky said, “Jason, of course we will be sharing the news when it’s a good time to do that. Maybe after the first ultrasound in early January? I just want to get through the first trimester first.”
Of course she would be worried, especially being older. A lot could go wrong in the first three months.
“Sounds good. I want to tell people, but I also like the fact it’s our secret.”
She smiled. “So do I, and I kind of want to hold onto it a little longer. As soon as it’s out there, everyone will have an opinion. They already did when they found out I planned to do this my way.”
“You’re worried about what people will think? Or that they won’t understand why you chose me?”
Frowning, she pushed her glasses back. “What’s to understand? You’re an incredibly viable candidate. Anyone could see that.”
Everly didn’t. But what did that matter now? My ex was happy. I was happy. No sex in my immediate future, but at least Franky and I were talking.
The world, previously tilted off its axis, was right again.
“If anything, people will wonder why you chose me,” she added. “That’s the true oddity here.”
I chuckled. “Why wouldn’t I want a brainy mom for my kid?”
Her smile froze for a moment. Before I could ask if I’d said the wrong thing, there was a knock on the door and her assistant called out, “Dr. St. James, your graduate student seminar starts in five.”
“Thanks, Jo.” She turned back to me, her expression smooth again. “Are we good?”
“Yes, Doc. We’re good.”