Page 57 of A Really Bad Idea

We take the long way home, getting an extra mile in on our skates. The sun is still bright in the sky as we roll up to the front awning of my building. Salvatore is outside and opens the door at our approach.

“I’ve got it, Sal,” Christian says, letting the doorman know he can go inside.

We step out of our skates and put our shoes on. I have mine wrapped in my arms, feeling short and unsteady now that I’m back on solid ground.

“Thank you for these,” I say, gesturing toward my skates.

His dimples make an appearance with his smile. “I’m glad you had a great date.”

“So far, you’re two for two.”

He takes a step forward. “That reminds me. What are you doing next weekend?”

I look in my mental calendar and see I have nothing going on. “This is where I should say I have plans to make it seem like I’m an in-demand kinda girl, but it’s just you, so I’ll be honest and say, I have nothing.”

“Then, this is where I should say, I’ll call you and then wait two days before I ask you out again, but since it’s just you, I’m going to come out and ask you to go to the gala for the Heart Institute next weekend.”

“You still want me to go to the gala?”

He sways his head from side to side, his eyes looking around, as if trying to understand my comment. “We can go as friends.”

“Friends,” I state.

He takes a step forward, his hands firmly in his pockets. “Meadow, no matter what happens, we’re friends first and always. I won’t let that change.”

“Oh.” I don’t know why, but my heart deflates a little. “Yes, we’ll go as friends.” I step back, grab the door handle, and open the door.

“Meadow.” His word causes me to a halt.

I turn around.

“What do you think would have happened if I’d asked you to the winter formal in high school?”

“You would have broken my heart, and we wouldn’t be friends,” I say honestly.

He nods solemnly. “Promise you’ll tell me if I’m breaking your heart. If I’m taking this too far.”

The thump in my chest scares me into thinking it’s too late. I shake my head and realize how silly that thought is. One make-out session doesn’t warrant a broken heart.

“My heart has already been broken by a giant hockey player with a scantily clad woman in a hotel room. Trust me when I say, I can handle it.”

My answer seems to appease him because he leans in close and gives me a chaste kiss on the cheek.

He waits on the sidewalk as I walk into my lobby. I glimpse him turning around as Salvatore comes over and holds out a box.

I thank him and look down at the gift box with a red bow. I take it with me into the elevator and up into my apartment. I place it on the kitchen counter and untie the ribbon, lifting up the box to see a white card on top of tissue paper.

I open it and read the simple note, “Love, Christian.”

Inside the tissue paper is a sapphire silk evening gown. It’s form-fitted and elegant. I hold the fabric up to my chest and look at the length. It’s perfect.

How does a man who just declared our steadfast friendship sweep me off my feet with his chivalry and woo?

The line between fantasy and reality blurred today. I have to remember, this is only an experiment, a game … a means to an end. We’re creating a child out of love, not because we’re in love.

“Do you want the paper?” I offer my dad as he sits in the leather chair in the waiting room.

They took my mother into her procedure on time, so Dad, Brian, and I have been sitting here, waiting for over an hour.