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“Wehaven’t,” Suzie protested.
“Youhaven’t because you’ve been with Sam forever, andIhaven’t because sleeping with my boyfriend’s best friend would have been weird,” Emma said. “And Kate didn’t because, well—”
“Kate should have,” Kate interrupted. “But I had my reputation as the only war widow of Hart’s Ridge to protect, so I didn’t. That ship has sailed, but I’m perfectly happy with Max, and I don’t think I’m missing anything.” She looked completely content with her choices, even a little smug.
I took a long, slow sip of my whiskey, refusing to make eye contact with Kate’s obvious happiness. Not that I begrudged anyone love and joy. It was just…hard to look directly at sometimes. Like the sun, it burned a little.
“Anyway,” I said. “It was fun, but it’s over now. We’re friends.”
“So what’s with the strong drinks?” Emma asked, nodding at my glass. “Bad day?”
I broke an onion ring in half, letting the center cool so it wouldn’t burn my tongue. “Yeah.”
“Tell us about it.”
I looked from one concerned face to the next. I opened my mouth…and then snapped it shut again. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t tell them I might have blown my chance to have kids. They wouldn’t understand.
At thirty-five, I was the oldest of the four of us. Suzie was five years younger, but she was on her fourth baby already. Her ovaries could crap out tomorrow and it wouldn’t matter.
Emma was also thirty. She didn’t have kids, but she had her life together. She was mayor of Hart’s Ridge, for heaven’s sake, plus she owned Holiday House, a popular bed and breakfast. Her boyfriend, a deputy sheriff, would probably propose any day now. She had plenty of time before her ovaries were deemed geriatric.
And then there was Kate, who was only two years younger than me. Kate had had her daughter Jessica while she was a senior in high school, but that hadn’t stopped her from opening her own candy store. Her first husband, her high school sweetheart, had died while deployed. But now, a decade later, she was engaged to the principal of her daughter’s school. If she decided shedidwant a second child, well, at least she had a man to provide the sperm.
I was the oldest, technically, but I didn’t feel old. That was the problem. I felt so damnyoungcompared to them. After years of bad choices and wrong turns, I was so far behind my friends and everyone else my age. They were running their own businesses, making families, passing me by while I jogged in circles. I had the unfettered life of an early twenty-something, which sounded great in theory. In practice, I didn’t want it. At all.
And now, in the one thing that truly mattered to me, I might never catch up. I might be out of time. Find a man, fall in love, get married, get pregnant—that could take years. Precious years that I didn’t have. Because my ovaries weregeriatric.
No, I couldn’t say any of that. Not without crying, anyway.
“I’m fine, really,” I said, waving my onion ring to cool it off. “Sometimes work is a lot, that’s all.”
“It must be hard, hearing about sad things all day,” Emma said. “But you’re doing great work. It matters.”
Well, that was nice to hear. And honestly, itwashard, hearing sad things all day. My job mostly consisted of helping clients file for disability, which meant a lot of nailing down details about exactly how painful life was for them, so much that it kept them from being able to work. Not that anyone’s life was all pain, but it was my job to focus on the painful details.
“Thanks,” I said, feeling a little bit better. The tequila was kicking in.
By the time we left, the whiskey had also done its job, and I was feeling pretty great. We were all giggling, looking left and right in case of a Goat attack, as we exited the bar.
“What a gorgeous night,” Suzie said. “Look at the moon. It’s almost full.” She rubbed her belly. “Full moons bring babies. I wouldn’t mind this one coming a little early.”
I tilted my head to see where the moon glowed plumply over Hart Mountain. God, I loved that mountain. It was one of the things that had drawn me to Hart’s Ridge. The day I had signed the mortgage on the Victorian, I had promised myself I would climb it. Someday. Had I followed through on that promise a year later? No, I had not. Kind of like how I always said I wanted to be a mom. I hadn’t done that, either.
But why couldn’t I now? I might be geriatric, but I wasn’t dead yet. I could climb Hart Mountain. People did it all the time. And I could have a baby! Hell, Janet Jackson did it at, like, fifty.
This wasn’t the 1950s; I didn’t need a man to have a baby. Well, okay, yes, I did need a man, technically. But I didn’t need ahusband. I just needed sperm.
“I’m going to climb it,” I announced. Out loud, because saying things out loud had a way of making them happen. It was the accountability. And I needed accountability if I was going to climb Hart Mountain. Or any mountain, really.
“Climb what?” Suzie asked. “The moon?”
“The mountain. Hart Mountain.”
Suzie blinked. “Huh,” she said.
“Not right now,” I clarified. “Maybe tomorrow, though.” Then afterward, I could have a baby. Get some sperm or something. Maybe it was the whiskey, but this might be the best idea I’d had all year.
“No, not tomorrow,” Suzie said. “We’re doing brunch at Dreamer’s and then you’re coming to dinner, remember?” The whole weekend was Suzie’s version of a babymoon. It was her last hurrah before she was completely overwhelmed with being a new mother for the fourth time. “You finally get to meet my brother.”
