30 First Dates (38 page)

"I read about your latest exploits," he said. "Skinny-dipping with strangers in a far-off state? I could have helped you knock that item off your list right here, you know." He sounded more amused than annoyed, and Erin laughed.

"I'm sure you could have, Devon," she said. "What's going on with you?"

"Well, I thought I'd see if you wanted to meet for coffee," he said.

She was silent for a few seconds. She was getting close to the end of her dating experiment, and Devon knew it. What did he want from her, she wondered? Surely he wasn't still waiting her out, waiting for her to finish her list. Her mind flitted to Ethan, the little boy she hadn't met, and she felt suddenly, inexplicably nervous.

"Sure," she said, feeling like she was choking on the word. "When?"

"Tonight?" he asked. "How about eight o'clock, that coffee shop on Routh near McKinney?"

"Sounds great," Erin said. After she hung up, she leaned back in her desk chair, put her hands behind her head, and stared at the ceiling. Thoughts of Devon mingled with thoughts of Ben and with the twenty-five other men she'd crossed lives with in the past thirteen months. What had she learned from all this? Was she willing to give dating Devon another try—a
real
try this time?

For some reason that made her think of Ben again, and she experienced the tangled feelings of grief and guilt she'd grown used to now.
No, I want to give
Ben
another try
, she thought. The longing was so great she couldn't stand it. Erin sat up, picked up her phone and dialed Ben's number with the same resolve it had taken to make the skydiving appointment.

He didn't answer. Again.
Perfect.
She didn't leave a voicemail message because she didn't know what to tell him—everything she wanted to say sounded either too angry or too desperate. "Oh, Ben," she said out loud after clicking to end the call. "What's happened to us?"

Erin stared at her computer screen for a long time without seeing it, unable to answer that question and scared of what the answer might be. Then she emailed in her column, closed her laptop, and dressed for a run. She needed to clear her head, and for her, there was no better way to do it.

*  *  *

"So, I wanted to ask you something," Devon said, not looking at her as he swirled black coffee in his chipped ceramic mug.

Erin tensed and made a study of the grains in the wood tabletop. Devon had promised to wait for her to finish out her year of blogging and being fickle, and now that year was almost up. All afternoon, she'd been trying to figure out how to answer the question she knew he was going to ask, how to turn him down while letting him know how very much she liked and respected him.

They'd been good together in some ways (mostly in one way), but she knew he wasn't the one, had somehow always known. Unconsciously, she wound her ankles tightly together beneath the table.

"What's up?" she asked in a tone more casual than she felt.

"Well—" he hedged. He looked up suddenly and into her face. Caught off guard, Erin met his eyes. He seemed hesitant, and her expression mirrored his.

"You were never really that into me, were you?" he finally asked.

"I—" Erin stuttered. "I, well, I…you know I like you a lot," she said. A loud clang rang out from behind the counter in the small coffee shop, and their eyes followed the sound. A barista had dropped some sort of metal mixing bowl or shaker onto the terra cotta tile floor.

Rattled, Erin glanced back at Devon. His face was serious, and her stomach muscles tightened.

"The thing is—I've met someone," he said, and then blew out a breath as if relieved to get the words out. "I had every intention of being here for you when you were ready, but I don't know." He looked her in the eyes again. "I got the feeling you wouldn't be all that sad if that day never came."

Surprised, she didn't answer him, instead raising her cappuccino to her lips. She took a sip and then delicately licked the foam from her upper lip as she mulled over his words. He wasn't wrong, of course, but she wasn't sure how she knew that or whether she should tell him so.

"I'm sorry," she finally said, wondering what was wrong with her that she could watch a man like Devon walk away. A man like Noah. A man like Paul. Who would ever be right for her? Not good enough—every one of them was good enough for her. But
right
.

Erin stifled a sigh, feeling her insides unclench.

"Tell me about her," she said after a long moment. "This woman you've met. What's she like?"

Devon's eyes brightened the tiniest amount, and Erin smiled. "Well, first of all she and Ethan get along great," he said, and Erin winced internally. "She's a lawyer. She's kind of tall, great body"—he paused and grinned, and Erin rolled her eyes—"and she's quiet. In a good way, a pensive, studious kind of way. I met her at a seminar at SMU. She was teaching a session on IP law for creatives."

"Hot for teacher," Erin quipped. "That is
so
you."

Devon grinned. "You would know."

Her lips turned up slightly at the corners. Lost in thought, she didn't respond.

"Hey," Devon said after a long pause. He reached out and touched her face, stroking her cheek just above her jawline. She shivered at his touch, but from surprise, not desire.

She wondered if they'd remain friends, and again her mind turned to Ben.

"Are you okay?" Devon asked. "I thought you'd be fine with this. Maybe even relieved. You're off the hook." He gave her a crooked smile. "Of course, that means you'll never get to carry me off and have your way with me."

Erin laughed, remembering her words to him before she'd left the pizza place—the day she'd learned she wasn't, in fact, pregnant.
Wow, how things have changed since then.
"You're the best one-night stand I ever had," she said.

Devon laughed, too. "I'm the only one-night stand you've ever had, Crawford," he said. He gazed at her in a way that managed to be tender and friendly at the same time. "And I don't regret it."

"I don't regret it, either."

Baby Daddies

June 1: two weeks to thirty

"You'll be happy to know I've brushed up on my cinematic history. I've watched every single winner of the Best Picture Oscar since the Academy launched the awards in 1927," Erin said as soon as Dave answered his cell.

"Well, Erin Crawford. You could blow me over with a feather."
Goofy as always
, Erin thought with affection. "I'd ask you how things are going, but I've been blog stalking you, so I already know."

She giggled. "How are things with you?"

"Eh, pretty good, pretty good," he said. "Summer vacay—bet you miss that."

"I really do," Erin said, glancing at the open laptop on her desk. She was working on a piece for the finance magazine, but she'd decided to take a break from typing.

"How's Missy?" she asked. She hadn't seen his wife in more than a year.

"Pregnant!" Dave said. "Can you believe it? Finally…we've been trying for probably three years."

"Oh my gosh," Erin said. "Congratulations! I'm sorry I didn't know." She thought about how little people really knew about other people when it came down to it. People walked around carrying hopes and wishes and things unsaid like so much change in a pocket. And now Dave, crazy, harebrained Dave, was going to be a dad. A great one, she was sure.

"Thanks! And don't be silly—how could you know? We just started telling people last weekend. Our folks are the only ones we told earlier. She's thirteen weeks tomorrow."

That meant little to Erin—she knew a pregnancy was nine months long, but she still didn't know how to speak in that pregnancy-weeks talk her friends were starting to use. She'd always shied away from it, but now she wondered if and when her time would come, and how she'd feel about it.

"I'll have to make a special virgin cocktail just for her at the party I'm inviting you guys to," she said, a smile in her voice.

"Another party. Look at you, girl. Will this be another society pages event?"

Erin chortled. "No, this one's low-key," she said. "Just a few friends at mine and Sherri's place—it's to celebrate the end of 30 First Dates, and Sherri's engagement…and my thirtieth birthday, I guess. It's June 13, a Saturday night."

A few hours after she jumped to the earth from 12,000 feet, she thought, but she didn't say that out loud. She still couldn't admit to herself that she was actually going through with it.

"Sherri's engaged. Well how about that." He paused and then said, "We'll be there. I don't know if we have any plans, but if we do we'll cancel 'em."

"Awesome. I'm inviting Angie, too. And maybe Coach Wagner."

"Sounds good. Angie's dating him now, so they'll be a package deal anyway."

Erin's eyes widened, and she smiled. It seemed everybody she knew was pairing off these days. "Holy cow, that's great."

"Yeah, she seems happy about it. Dan's a good guy, so, you know, it's cool." His voice elevated a notch. "Hey, did you know Paul moved back west?"

Erin wasn't planning to ask about Paul even though she was dying to. She felt sad and happy for him at the same time, and a little bit guilty. "No, I hadn't heard. But I'm not surprised."

"Yeah, me and Ang had you two pegged for each other. But I guess you've gotta dance your own dance."

"Something like that," Erin said with a laugh, and then she quickly changed the subject. "I can't wait to see you and Missy."

"Same to you, girl. Same to you."

*  *  *

Two hours later, Erin stood up and stretched, and then reached for her phone. She had one more party invitation to extend, and she'd been dreading it, which made her feel miserable and confused and angry all at the same time. She never thought she'd see the day when she'd dread calling Ben. She'd only talked to him once since Hilary dropped the Melody bomb, and when she asked him about it he blew her off.

"We were going over a presentation," he said, but his voice had sounded flat.

Erin knew him well enough to know he was lying, but she hadn't felt at liberty to call him on it. Ever since their tense conversation after the marathon, all their interactions had been strained—she felt more comfortable talking to strangers at the grocery store than she felt talking to Ben. And they hadn't run together since the race, which was more telling than anything else.

She scrolled to his name in her contact list and clicked it, expecting to leave another voicemail. She was shocked when he answered.

"Hey," he said. His voice sounded strained in a new way—sort of…furious.

"You okay?" she asked, forgetting the purpose of her call.

"Not really," he shot back.

Erin raised an eyebrow, not sure how to respond. Was it Catherine? His dad? His job? She felt so distant from him right now, she had no clue what could be going on with him. She thought about their night together—the night she'd felt closer to him than ever before—and squeezed her eyes shut.

"What's wrong?" she asked.
Be Catherine, be Catherine.
The vehemence of the thought surprised her—she'd made suppressing her dislike of Ben's girlfriend an art form. Her eyes were still closed.

"I…it's…." He let out an agitated sigh, and Erin started to feel truly concerned. "Are you at home? Can I come over?"

Her eyes popped open, relief washing over her at those words. She'd thought she'd never hear them again. "Well, yeah. Any time, Ben." She paused, and when he didn't respond, she said, "You know I'm always here for you."

"I know you are." His voice was soft now, and Erin felt something inside her soften too. A pang of wistfulness came at her like a blow to the stomach. And then her stomach leaped as she realized Ben was coming here, to see her. He'd only been to her apartment one time since the night they'd…she glanced at her bed and then away again, trying not to remember that night, the way it had felt to wake up beside him. Heat pulsed through her body, and she suppressed it with everything she had.

No, remembering wouldn't do either of them any good.

"You coming now?" she asked, glancing around at her messy desk and unmade bed.

"Yeah," he said, and she could tell he was outside—walking fast, from the sound of it. "I've got to get out of here."

"Are you at home?"

"At work," he said. She heard the metallic ping of a key fob and then the sound of him opening and closing his car door.

"Can you just…leave like that?" she asked, and then immediately felt foolish. He was a professional, after all, not an on-the-clock shift worker.

He barked out a hard laugh. "Oh, I should be working," he said, and Erin was confused. Had he argued with somebody in the lab? Was he walking out on his job? She bit her tongue, deciding to save her questions until he was ready to talk.

"Well, be safe," she said, feeling like Joanne as she remembered all the times her mom had said the same words to her before she got behind the wheel. "I'll see you in a few minutes."

After hanging up, she began furiously picking up the mess in her apartment—which was all hers. Sherri had spent the previous weekend in Austin and now, Tuesday afternoon, she still hadn't returned. Erin wondered how
she
was managing so much time out of the office, too.

Agitated, she kept cleaning, just to keep her head and hands busy until Ben gave her some answers. Answers to what, she didn't know.

*  *  *

Ben paced back and forth across the living room like a newly trapped animal as Erin's eyes followed. "I just can't believe it," he said. "I can't fucking believe it."

"Well, maybe it's not true," she said, feeling awful on his behalf and helpless because, as was usual now, there was nothing she could do for him. "Melody only heard him talking to
somebody
. You don't even know if it's her."

"Oh, it's her," he said. "Melody heard him say, 'It's for the best, Cattie.' That's what he calls her, and she's sure that's what she heard."