When Girlfriends Step Up (26 page)

***

The evening of our date, I was so nervous I couldn’t keep my hand from shaking long enough to apply my eyeliner properly.

“Lara, I need your help!” I called out.
 

Lara rushed to my side. She was all sweaty, wearing gym shorts and a ratty U Dub t-shirt she’d had for nearly a decade.

“Something wrong with the baby? You all right?” she huffed, arming away some sweat from her brow. She must have been getting some time in with the treadmill.

“No, nothing like that. I can’t put my darn eyeliner on, I’m so nervous. Can you help?”

Like a trooper, she applied the perfect thin black line all around, just how I liked it.

“I’m really happy for you, Robin,” she said.

“Aww, thanks. I can’t believe it’s actually happening. It seems like yesterday when I was bitching about this day never coming. And now…wow! Hey, do you think my new black dress will look fine?”
 

Last night after work, Lara and I dashed over to buy a new dress for my big date. It looked lovely in the dressing room, covering the extra two dozen or so pounds of me I’d put on since I became pregnant. Although I wasn’t so sure now, with only minutes before Bobby was to pick me up.

“Of course it’ll look fine. Better than fine!” She blew away any excess powder on my face. “And he’s going out with
you
, not your dress. I’m sure he couldn’t care less about what you’re wearing.”

I gave myself one last look-over in the mirror once I was ready. The gold heart pendant necklace that Lara lent me looked stunning with my solid black dress. And the dress itself really was both beautiful and comfortable. Probably my favorite maternity dress I owned, actually. It had t-shirt-like sleeves, and the neckline scooped down into a crescent-shape. Below the breast line it had a black ruche ribbon, giving way to an A-line skirt that fell right to the knees. The fabric was of high quality (for nearly two hundred big ones it ought to be), and it draped perfectly over my six-month pregnant tummy. I even managed to slip into a pair of my favorite statement-making ruby-red high heels. Special heels for a special occasion. I couldn’t last long in them with all of the extra baby weight and the water I was retaining (and since my feet were so swollen), but for a date with Bobby I’d make it work.
 

I don’t know why I doubted the dress. It was beautiful, and I thought I looked really nice in it. I wanted to look my best for Bobby without noticeably overdoing it, like I wasn’t trying too hard. I’ll admit, whenever I was around Bobby my self-esteem sort of got a boost. I felt beautiful, and more confident than usual. I felt, like he’d said at lunch the other day, really good around him. I felt like myself. And I was comfortable feeling like myself, and being simply Robin around him, even when six months pregnant.

Now I couldn’t blow it. This was a big step in our relationship. The chips were falling, and I wanted them to fall in my favor, naturally. One side of my brain reminded me to take things slow. To think of my little girl, of the big changes going on in life. The other side was shouting out vociferously, “Land the man!”

“You’re sure I look my best?” I asked Lara. I nervously picked at the hem of my dress. “Not over the top like I’m trying too hard, but I look…confident? Right? Comfy in my own shoes?”

“He won’t be able to resist you,” she said, looking at me fondly as I sat on the sofa, eagerly awaiting Bobby’s arrival. “Now try not to be nervous, Robin. Think of this as another fun and easy-going lunch with him. Remember: Let the chips fall where they may. And have a good time!”

When Bobby arrived and I saw him standing at the door, his auburn hair slightly slicked back with gel, a few stray locks freeing themselves and lying limply to one side, and his bright blue eyes, seeming to shine the moment he laid his eyes on me, I was positively smitten.

When he smiled and took my hand in his, telling me that I looked “exactly like an angel,” I knew I was falling in love.

So much for taking things slow.

Bobby had made reservations at one of the finest restaurants in Seattle, located in one of the ritzy hotels downtown. It was the place to dine for many of the city’s literati, well-to-do, and up-and-coming businessmen and artists. The price of the food nearly made me choke, but the taste was worth every heavy dollar. He insisted I order anything and everything I wanted from the menu, since we were both celebrating my stellar review at work (for a second time), and our first
official
date. Even though he made it clear that night that he considered most all of our lunches together dates. And the coffee runs, too.

“What?” I said, taking a sip of my sparkling water. “So those were all
secret
dates?”

“You know what I mean. No two co-workers go out together for lunch—just the two of them—
that
often. We definitely had some dates in there.” He gave me a wink. “This one’s only
official
because I finally worked up the nerve to ask you out, on a
date
, outside of work, for dinner. A real date.”

“Been wanting to ask me out for a while, have you?” I was enjoying our lighthearted and flirtatious banter—this time without the pretense of a strict business lunch.

“You have no idea. I don’t know if I should say this or not…”

I was madly curious; I urged him to share.

“Part of the reason I’d split up with Chrissy was because I’d been wanting to ask you out for a while. Things were already going sour with that relationship, but after you and I’d spent a little more time together…and I got to know you better…well…you charmed me, Robin.”

“I don’t want to be the cause of a breakup,” I said, hoping to God that wasn’t the case.

“No, no. That’s not what I meant. That’s why I wasn’t sure if I should say anything or not.” His voice was a tad hushed. “That’s not it at all. It’s only that you made me realize that sparks…that—that passion really
can
exist. I know that us dating is still very new. Obviously there are sparks.” He smiled softly. “Being with you feels so natural. So right. I enjoy being with you.”

“I enjoy being with you, too.”

“I’m twenty-nine years old.” He took a sip of wine. “I know what I want now. And that relationship wasn’t it.” He cupped my hand in his, his touch gentle, yet strong. “I’m really fond of you and I hope we can keep seeing each other.”

“The date’s not over yet, Bobby. You could run away screaming by the end of the night.” I infused some humor into the conversation.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he said in response to my poor attempt at a joke.

“I’m only saying that, well, I come with a lot of baggage, as you know.” I pointed to my stomach. I again reminded myself to listen to the rational side of my brain, arguing for moving slowly with Bobby, no matter how attracted to him I was, no matter how much I really did want a happily every after scenario. I told myself not to be cynical and expect all relationships to wind up in the gutter, however, but to still be reasonable and take things slowly, because I was living and planning for two now. My situation wasn’t that of a typical single, twenty-five-year-old woman. I’d had a rough year, and there was a lot going on. Bobby could be a welcome addition to my life, but we’d have to move slowly. That’s right, slowly. I couldn’t take any heartbreak, if it came to that. And that’s not being cynical. That’s only being prepared. Being realistic. And life’s a reality, not a fantasy, after all.

“I hope you understand,” I added.

“Robin, we went over this yesterday.” His voice was serious, yet still kind and warm. “I’m well aware that you’re going to have a baby. That doesn’t change anything for me. I told you: I’m twenty-nine; I know what I want in life, and I know what I don’t want. How’s this? Would it be too forward to ask for another date?”

“Wow,” I said, surprised. I took a quick drink of my water. “This one’s not even over yet, and you want another one? I’m flattered.”

“Just trying to prove how serious I am about you. Is that too forward of me?”

“Not too forward at all,” I said, and smiled. “I suppose I
was
waiting a long time for this first date.”

“So was I.” He leaned in closer to me across the small table that we shared. Then ever so slowly he pressed his lips softly against mine. He lingered for only a brief moment before he pressed them a bit further, still maintaining a balance between a soft and sweet kiss, and one filled with a pressing, fiery passion and desire.

When he pulled back we were both grinning.
 

“And I’ve been waiting to do
that
for a long time,” he whispered.

Fast, slow, fast, slow. Oh, it’s all so much for me to take in! So many emotions. So many changes. But, you know what? I feel happy. I feel really, really happy and all lit up inside. Maybe—slow and steady, of course—that whole happily ever after scenario isn’t that unrealistic…

The enchanting evening came to a close shortly after midnight. Our date was magical, complete with dancing and even a horse-drawn carriage ride around Downtown. The sweet summer evening air coming off the water and breezing by, the secure touch of Bobby’s arm wrapped around me tightly, and the unmistakable scent of Bobby’s cologne were all like heavenly gifts on Earth. I thought that perhaps, only perhaps, this was where reality and fantasy could collide. I rested my head on Bobby’s shoulder while he lightly rubbed my arm and pulled me close during the carriage ride. Being with Bobby like this, in a romantic and intimate way, the two of us outside of the constraints of the office, felt so natural and so right and so comfortable.

“Bobby?” I asked, trying to keep my eyes open and stay awake in the calming atmosphere.

“Yeah?”

“What’s your cologne called?”

“Calvin Klein’s Eternity.” He squeezed me tight and kissed the top of my head.

“Eternity,” I whispered, dancing my fingers on his chest as I closed my eyes and buried myself in the rapturous moment.

Eternity—precisely how long I want to stay like this, together, wrapped in each other’s arms.

Chapter Eighteen

I was nearing my third trimester, and I was on top of the world! Work was going fantastic. Bobby and I were dating, going out for dinner and a movie, or for coffee, or even the old-fashioned lunch dates a few times a week. My baby shower was almost here, to which my mom and my sister had actually R.S.V.P.’d. All of the baby’s furniture for the room was put together and set up, then moved out of my room, then back in again.

See, Lara decided my room had to be made into more of a nursery than a bedroom/nursery, and insisted she paint the walls pink. So she charged herself and Jackie with the task one very long (and loud) night, and ordered that I take the time to steer clear of the paint fumes by way of the shopping mall. So Sophie and Claire took me shopping for some new, larger, and much-needed maternity clothes. And, since we couldn’t resist, we did some shopping for the baby, too.

I think if Lara had known what a lousy sleeper I had become since I became pregnant, she wouldn’t have chosen to paint my room and claim me as her new bed mate for the next couple of nights. No matter which way I lay down, how I propped up my pillow, situated my blankets, or curled up my knees, I couldn’t lie still for very long. It seemed like the baby was sitting on my chest, making it extremely difficult to breathe when lying down. And I couldn’t very well sleep sitting up. The nights were long, back-achingly sore, and very distracting for poor Lara. By the third and final night that we anticipated I’d need to keep clear of sleeping in my freshly painted room, I slept on the sofa so Lara could finally get a good night’s rest.
 

Problem was, I couldn’t get any more comfortable on the sofa. And the distracting noise of Beebee’s cacophonous purr was driving me batty.

“What’s the use?” I said, flipping the television on and instantly turning the volume to a hair above mute. I mindlessly flipped through the program guide, noncommittally settling on some HBO film I knew I’d seen before.

In the wee hours of the morning I found myself doing some sketching, shooting Emily a friendly email, and eventually, around four in the morning or so, falling asleep.

It was the strong aroma of freshly brewed coffee that stirred me from my peaceful slumber, only to be slightly disappointed that I couldn’t partake in the drinking of the delightful morning beverage.

“Morning, sleepy head,” Lara said, dressed and ready for yet another day at the office. “Why’d you sleep on the sofa?”

I rubbed at my sleep-crusted eyes and stole a glance at the clock on the wall. Luckily I still had another hour before work—plenty of time for me to throw something on and head out.

“I’ve bothered you enough, girl. I’m always tossing and turning. Can’t have you head off to work all exhausted.” I yawned, louder than expected. “Man, will
I
be exhausted at work today.”

“What are you talking about, you goofball?” Lara pulled a box of cereal from the cupboard. “Since when did you work Saturdays?”

“What? Are you serious?” I racked my brain and realized it was, in fact, Saturday. “Thank goodness! I’m exhausted! I don’t know how I would’ve managed work today.”

I took Lara’s advice and crashed in her bed for a good three hours or so. The baby shower was planned for that afternoon, but not until midday (I nearly forgot about it with all the chaos of painting the room), so I had plenty of time to catch up on my much-needed
zzz
s.

Before I situated myself in the most appealing position I could find (wedged between two body pillows, and one thick, down pillow propped under my head), my cell phone vibrated. I snagged it from the nightstand. A text message from Bobby. In spite of my exhaustion, I opened his message.

Hey beautiful. Have a great baby shower. Been thinking about you. See you on Mon. PS-looking forward to lunch. The best part of work now. :)

Bobby. What a catch,
I thought.
I tossed my cell phone to the end of the bed and snuggled tightly to my pillow.
 

What a lucky, lucky girl I am. To have someone so sweet want to be with me…to have someone so special…