Author: Kristan Higgins

“So, Ryan, okay,” I blurt. “I have to ask this…sorry.” I shift a little so I can better see his face. “Ryan, you’re a gorgeous man, you’re a doctor—”

“Surgeon,” he corrects with a smile.

“Right! A surgeon, a trauma surgeon…um, why aren’t you married?”

He sits back and frowns. “It’s a valid question,” he says. “Honestly, Chastity, I always felt that work came first. It’s not easy to become a surgeon—”

“Oh, I know,” I smile. “I watch Grey’s Anatomy every week.” He doesn’t deign to respond. “Sorry. Go on,” I mumble, looking at my high-tops.

He glances at his wine glass, held loosely in his beautiful hands. “I always felt that a serious relationship wouldn’t be advisable while I was so immersed in my residency, or in establishing my career.” He shifts his gaze to me. “Now that’s done.” He raises an eyebrow. “And I’ve met you.”

I blush, pleased. “I guess I’m surprised you didn’t meet anyone else at the hospital, from your residency, maybe?” I suggest. “Like McDreamy and Meredith?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, but his tone is fond. “But I wouldn’t want to marry another doctor. One in the family is enough.”

“Oh,” I say. “And why is that?”

“It’s a demanding career,” he says simply. “When it comes to having children, I think it’s best to have at least one parent who can devote a lot of time to them.” He pauses, his eyes dropping to my mouth. His voice lowers. “Any more questions?”

“Um…no,” I whisper. The tingling returns.

“Can I kiss you now?”

“Sure,” I whisper, and he does. He kisses me, a very nice, skilled, gentle kiss. I pull back, set my wine glass on the coffee table, and take another look at him. “Any pets?” I ask.

“No.” He laughs.

“Okay,” I answer, then grab his shirt and pull him against me and kiss him a little less perfectly than he just kissed me.

“Just so you know,” he murmurs against my mouth, “I’m looking for a serious relationship. Committed and monogamous.”

“Got it,” I say, smiling. Can’t say that I’ve ever known a man to say such things. “Me, too, Ryan.” And then he kisses me again, and we stop talking for a good long while.

MY GIRL PARTS STILL WORK, I’M happy to report.

We’re cuddling. Idly stroking Ryan’s satiny shoulder, I remind myself to moisturize more regularly. This guy is much prettier than I am. I stifle a giggle.

“That was great,” he murmurs, kissing my head.

“Yeah,” I agree. “Very nice.”

But now that the deed is done, well, I’m feeling a little squirrelly. “Hey, Ryan, would you mind driving me home?”

“Right now?” he asks. His fingers stop playing with my hair.

“Well, no, not exactly now. But I have an early meeting.” It’s true.

“Sure,” he says, pulling back to look at me. “But you’re more than welcome to spend the night, Chastity.”

“Thanks,” I say. “Next time, but, um, I probably should…you know.”

Five minutes later, Ryan kisses me again, very sweetly, then rolls out of bed and pulls on his clothes. I smile, grateful for the years of karate and athleticism that have sculpted his body to Matthew McConnaughey perfection.

That perfection aside, I know I wouldn’t sleep a wink, and the little voice in my head is waiting to have a talk with me.

The stars burn bright in the sky, and the streets are empty. The hum of Ryan’s Mercedes is barely audible, and he holds my hand the whole way back.

“You’d better stay in the car,” I say, looking at my house. “My brother’s home tonight, and if Buttercup hears a stranger, she’ll go nuts and wake him up.” Of course, this is not true. If she even woke, I’d be surprised. I’m not sure why I just lied.

“Okay,” he says, looking at me. He leans over and kisses me briefly. “I’m glad we’re together, Chastity.”

My heart squeezes at his earnestness. “Thanks. Me, too, Ryan.”

“I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Sure. Thanks.” I open the car door and run up the path. He waits at the curb until I go inside, then pulls noiselessly away.

The only light is from the nightlight in the hall, which Matt and I leave on in case he gets called to the firehouse in the middle of the night…or if I need a midnight snack. Buttercup groans from her corner, her tail whacking the floor. “Hi, honey,” I whisper. She doesn’t even open her eyes, too exhausted from her flight through Eaton Falls to come over, just thumps her tail a few more times and goes back to sleep.

Going into the kitchen, I open the fridge, blinking at the sudden burst of light, and stare at the contents inside. Not a whole lot to warm a girl’s heart or fill her tummy. I take out the milk and grab the Choco-Puffs from the cabinet. Getting a bowl, I turn around and nearly die of fright. Trevor is standing there like a ghost.

“Trevor! Jeez!” I hiss, bobbling the carton of milk.

“Sorry, Chas,” he whispers. “Here, let me.” He takes the milk from my hands and sets it on the table. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Well, creeping up on someone at three in the morning tends to do just that,” I say. “Just for future reference.” My heart is thudding so hard I can practically see it coming out of my chest.

Trevor smiles and takes a seat at the table, taking care to be quiet. “I’m crashing here tonight,” he tells me.

“So I see.” He’s wearing jeans and a T-shirt, and his feet are bare. I’m sure he wasn’t sleeping in jeans—I end the thought right there. “Want some cereal?”

“No, thanks,” he says with a grin. “How was your date? After the wee beastie chased you down, that is.”

I take a deep breath. My purpose in having a little late-night snack was to analyze said date. “It was great,” I say. “We had a great time. Ryan’s a great guy.”

“Great.”

I look at him sharply. “We did. He is.”

“I’m not saying you didn’t, Chas, or that he’s not.” He folds his arms across his chest and continues looking at me, muscles bulging, hair rumpled, utterly luscious. I take a hearty bite of Choco-Puffs and chew. Go away, Trevor, I say silently. Because sitting in the near dark at three in the morning is far too intimate. “How’s Angela, speaking of dating?”

“She’s fine,” he says. “Nice girl.”

“So are you guys serious?” I blurt, shoveling in another mouthful of cereal.

“We’ve been on two dates, Chastity.”

“So? Ryan and I have also been on two dates.”

“And are you guys serious?” he asks.

“Yes, as a matter of fact, we are. We are in a committed, monogamous relationship.” My spoon clatters with unnecessary roughness against the bowl.

“Two dates is a little quick for a serious, committed, monogamous relationship, wouldn’t you say?”

“Well, we’ve just begun the committed, serious, monogamous relationship, Trevor. Gotta start somewhere.” My voice is not quite as casual as I’d like.

“Sure,” Trevor agrees. “And I’m sure he has a lot of nice qualities.”

Why does he defend Ryan? my little voice squawks. Why doesn’t he say, How about a committed, serious, monogamous relationship with me, Chas?

Because he doesn’t want that, Elaina’s voice answers firmly. He’s had his chance, okay? He’s had plenty.

“So?” Trevor asks. “What do you like about this guy, Chas?”

“What are you, my big sister now?” I ask, and he grins, and my insides lurch.

“Close enough. Answer the question.”

I get up from the table, put my bowl in the sink and stare out the window at the dark backyard. “He’s really smart, obviously.” Well-educated. “And he’s got a nice sense of humor…you know, kind of quiet.” Excellent manners. “He’s hardworking. Treats me really well.” Good driver. “Didn’t mind chasing Buttercup.”

“Sounds like there’s some potential here, Chas.”

My throat tightens. “Oh, yeah. Definitely potential. Listen, buddy, I’m going to bed. Do you need anything? Pillow, blanket, anything?”

“I’m all set, thanks. Night, Chastity.”

“Goodnight, Trev.”

Upstairs in my room, Buttercup has taken her usual position, occupying three-quarters of my queen-size bed. I undress, then realize with an impatient sigh that I forgot to brush my bleeping teeth. And since I don’t even have a sink in my stupid bathroom, I’d have to go back downstairs and risk seeing Trevor once more.

Well. I get into my tiny sliver of a bed, shove Buttercup over with my feet and sigh.

Surely I’ve wasted enough time thinking about Trevor over the past couple of decades. Instead of thinking about Trev, I order myself to think of attainable, relationship-minded Ryan Darling.

I think I could probably love Ryan. Like I said to Trevor, he seems like a very nice, serious, hardworking guy. He’s not really funny in the way that I’m used to, the lizards in the bed kind of funny, but he’s not un-funny, either. And there’s some chemistry between us, sure. If my toes didn’t exactly curl, well, they twitched, and this was just our first time. He is certainly good-looking. We’d make beautiful, strong, tall children, hopefully. Smart, too. Ivy League Teamsters.

So yes, we’d done it. Moved the relationship forward, and if it was a little fast, as Trevor so irritatingly pointed out, so what? Ryan and I are consenting adults in our thirties. No big deal. I wince as the words echo in my head. No big deal.

It’s not that sex with Ryan wasn’t nice. It was. Very nice. We took our time, he was considerate, assured me of his good health, took care of the needed protection and all that. It was very nice. If I had to grade it, I’d give it a B+. Good, solid, well-supported sex. Like a hearty meat loaf dinner. And if nice isn’t exactly what a woman dreams of, if instead of meat loaf, she’s wishing for filet mignon, if she’s wanting earth-shaking instead of solid, a little more wild, a little less smooth, well, she should probably get over it.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

“HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY, MOM,” I say, handing over the tulips, truffles and card.

“Oh, honey! How sweet you are!” Mom cries, tearing open the truffles. “Oooh, very nice, darling! Want one?”

“No, no, they’re all for you,” I say.

Mom reads the card, tears up, hugs me. “I love you, too, sweetheart,” she says. “Don’t tell the boys, but you’re my favorite.”

“Don’t tell the boys, my ass,” Jack says. “She tells us every chance she gets.”

I kiss my oldest brother’s cheek. “You poor neglected baby,” I say. “Doesn’t your mommy wuv you anymore?”

“I’ll always be her firstborn,” he says, swatting me. “You were just an accident.”

“What?” I gasp, feigning shock. “You didn’t want two babies in eleven months, Mom?”

“Oh, you two,” she says fondly. “All children are a blessing, yadda yadda yadda.”

Jack and I laugh. “Who sent you those, Mom?” I ask, pointing to a huge arrangement of roses and lilies on the dining room table.

“Oh, those are from Harry,” she coos. Jack shoots me a look. “Jack, I think Graham is stuck in that tree,” Mom adds, and the two of them go outside to rescue various and sundry children and intervene in a spat over who has to retrieve the soccer ball from the mud.