Page 119 of Brooklynaire
“Fuck,” he says, hopping down. And everybodylaughs.
29
Nate
June 17, New York
Back in Brooklyn,we lose game six in freaking overtime. Could happen to anyone. My guys look good the whole game. Confident. But it isn’t quite enough to end theseries.
So we’ll have to do it in game seven. That’s just the way itis.
But I’m so distracted. All I want to do is watch practice and listen to Coach Worthington drop his gruff pearls ofwisdom.
We’rethisclose. I can tasteit.
Just to complicate matters, my investment bankers come up with a third bidder for the router division. Out of nowhere, a hardware manufacturer wants to edge out the competition for this businessunit.
Stew just rolls his eyes when I give him the news. “If you made up your fucking mind already, you wouldn’t have this problem,bigshot.”
Nokidding.
But my indecision hasn’t been the only problem. Alone in my office, I grab my phone and tap Alex’s number. “Hey you. Look. I want to do this transaction with you, but we have to move fast. And you have to show your face, because there’s a new complication. For the love of God, call me back so I don’t have to put your picture on the back of a milkcarton.”
In the outer office, Lauren is busy scheduling more meetings, which I’m too distracted to attend, and ordering lunch so I don’t turn into a whiny brat when my blood sugar drops. Outside my window, my sweeping view of Manhattan’s skyline is obscured by heavy clouds. It’s a rainy June day, and the hockey season is one game away from its thrillingconclusion.
And I’m about to spend several hours listening to accountants drone. Kill mealready.
I’m finishing up a big bowl of spicy noodles when there’s a tap on the door. “Come in, especially if you’re Rebecca.” Becca said something earlier about coming to Manhattan and maybe swinging by aroundnoon.
“Sorry,” a female voice says. But it’s not Rebecca’s. When the door opens, it’s Alex’s face thatappears.
“Hey!” I stand up because this is good news, too. “Finally! How goes it with you?” I toss the trash from my lunch into the bin beside mydesk.
Alex gives me a tight smile. She closes the door behind her and crosses to the visitor’s chair opposite my desk. “Nate, I’m here to ruin yourday.”
“What?” Women have ruined my day many times before, but they are rarely so direct about it. “Well. At least take off your jacket first. Or—should we step out for a cup of coffee?” I could use an espresso to push me through today’smeetings.
Slowly she shakes her head. Alex looks as tense as I’ve ever seen her. If this were an episode ofSherlock, she might have a bomb strapped to her body beneath thatraincoat.
“Spit it out, pal,” I say. “What’swrong?”
“I’m pregnant. But it’s probably not yourbaby.”
Six times. That’s how many I roll this pronouncement through my head to be sure I’ve heard it right. I can feel the blood draining from my face. And yet I’m somehow able to focus on the fact that it matters very much what I say right now. I don’t yell,it was once in twelve years, and we used a condom!I don’t yell atall.
“Pregnant,” I say carefully. But it’s probably not mine, she’dadded.
Probablymight mean she’s 51% sure. Or—if I’m lucky—she’s certain out to three standard deviations. Somehow I managed not to voice this question. “Congratulations,” I add gently. Then I wait for moreinformation.
Alex offers me another tight smile. “I know you well enough to hear your gears turning over there. I’m…88% sure this isn’t your problem. I was briefly dating Jonah after we…” She clears her throat. “But I need to ask you a favor. I need to rule you out before I approachhim.”
“Rule me out,” I saystupidly.
She closes her eyes and then opens them again. “With a paternity test,Nate.”
“Oh. Okay,” I say quickly. “Whatever youneed.”
“Breathe, Nate. This isn’t on you. But I need your helpanyway.”
