“But you don’t want to let fear dictate your decisions, Erin.” Mia stepped back from the wall and eyed the color critically. “I’m not saying you should date a single dad if you don’t want to, but I do think you’ll be sorry if fear is the big reason you let him go.”
“I know,” I said miserably. “I would be. But what about his daughter? What if she hates me?”
“Are you kidding?” Mia glanced at me over her shoulder. “You’re a dance teacher! Seven-year-old girls are your thing!”
“That’s true.” I tilted my head. “Unless she’s a total tomboy.”
“She’ll love you no matter what,” Mia assured me, putting more paint on the wall. “And I have no doubt you’ve got it in you to love that child. You’re so good with kids, better than any of us.”
“If it helps, I was terrified to give Nick another chance too,” offered Coco. “The way he’d broken my heart before hung over my head like this huge black cloud. I remember how I called Mia in a total panic about it. And that was before the pregnancy scare!”
“Speaking of being pregnant.” Mia turned and pointed her paint brush at me. “You think I’m not terrified of becoming a mother? I totally am! What if I suck at it? What if I hate it? What if I get postpartum depression and instead of being thrilled, I’m miserable? Then there’s the actual having the baby.” She dropped the paintbrush onto a piece of plastic wrap. “I’ve done some research. Did you know that some women poop on the table during delivery? Poop!” she yelled, throwing her hands up. “On the table!”
Coco burst out laughing, and even I had to smile. “No,” I admitted. “I didn’t know that.”
“Well, it’s true. And if you think I don’t freak out every single day, multiple times a day, wondering if Lucas is going to see me poop on that table, grunting and pushing and making horrible faces, I assure you—you’re wrong.”
“See, Erin? Maybe you should be glad that Charlie already has a seven-year-old.” Coco grinned at me. “Someone else did all the grunt work.”
Mia looked down her nose at Coco, eyelids half-closed. “That is not funny.”
“Are you really scared of all that?” I asked Mia thoughtfully. Having a baby had always been her dream, and it surprised me that she had anxiety about it now, especially since Lucas was so excited.
“Hell. Yes.” Mia dropped down to the carpet between us. “But I want it. I want it bad enough to overcome all that fear.” She looked sideways at me. “What about you? Do you want Charlie?”
I sighed. “I do. I miss him so much I can’t breathe. I’m miserable without him.” I flopped back onto the carpet and flung an arm over my eyes. “I love him. Plus the sex, you guys. It’s the best thing ever. I can’t describe it.”
Mia patted my leg. “Then I think you should give it a shot, Erin. This is the most passionate I’ve ever seen you get about a guy, in a good way or bad. That tells me something.”
“I am passionate about him.” I put my arm down and stared at the ceiling. “And it’s not just the sex I miss, but his voice, and the way he makes me laugh, and the way he smells and dresses and sleeps. We didn’t see each other all the time, but I always knew there would be a next time, and I’d get giddy with excitement about it. When we’re together, there’s this hum in the air between us I can’t describe. It’s the spark. We have the spark.” I turned my head to look at them. “I’ve always wanted what you have with Lucas, and what you have with Nick. And I feel like I found it.”
“Chemistry,” said Coco softly. “And it’s worth something.”
“Yes. Chemistry.” I stared at the ceiling again, bringing my hands to my forehead in disbelief. “With fucking Charlie Dwyer, the pain in the ass boy next door.”
“Hey, at least he’s not gay,” said Coco.
“Or a priest,” added Mia.
“Very funny.” I sat up. “No, he’s not those things. He may not be perfect, but I do think he loves me.”
“Fuck perfect,” they both said at the same time.
Laughing, I got to my feet. “Exactly. OK, thanks, you guys. I’m going to go call him from home.”
They stood and hugged me goodbye, and I left smiling.
On the way home, I grew even more certain of my decision. If we failed, we failed, but at least I wouldn’t regret not giving Charlie another chance just because I was scared or angry or things weren’t perfect.
My friends were right—fuck perfect.
Nothing and nobody was perfect, not me, not Charlie, not love.
But maybe, just maybe, we could be not-perfect together.
“Hello?”
The sound of his voice made me shiver. I hadn’t heard it in far too long. “Hi.”
“Hey, you. How’s everything?”
“Great, thanks.”
“It’s good to hear your voice.”
I smiled, curling up in the corner of the couch he always sat in. “I was just thinking the same.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” I took a breath. “I’ve been thinking a lot about…what we talked about.”
He was quiet a moment. “Oh?”
“Yes.” My stomach was all quivery, even though I was positive this was what I wanted. “I want you to talk to Laura.”