Something Blue

expression even more so.

'Do you think?'

'I know… It's wonderful.'

'But how will I do it?'

'You just will.'

'I don't know if I can.'

'Of course you can… Now. Why don't you go take a hot shower, put on warm pajamas, and I'll make you some dinner.'

'Thanks, Ethan,' I said, feeling soothed even before I got out of my damp clothes. Ethan's nurturing quality was one of the things I liked most about him. He had this in common with Rachel. I thought of how Rachel used to bring pistachios over to my house whenever I needed some good cheering up. She knew pistachios were my favorite treat, but the best part was how she always assumed the role of the nut cracker, handing me filet after filet. I remember thinking they were that much tastier without the interruption and aggravation of peeling.

Ethan's offer to make me dinner reminded me of those pistachio days.

'Just get in the shower and start thinking of boy names. Wayne and Dwayne might be just the ticket. What do you say?'

I giggled. 'Wayne and Dwayne Rhone… I like it.'

Later that night, after Ethan and I had eaten his homemade beef stew for dinner and spent much time admiring my boys' sweet, matching profiles in their ultrasound photos, we went to bed.

'How come you never spend the night with Sondrine?' I asked as I slid under the covers.

Ethan switched off the light, got in bed next to me, and said, 'It's not that serious yet.'

The yet gave me a small pang, but I just said, 'Oh,' and dropped the subject.

After a long silence, Ethan whispered, 'Congratulations again, Darce. Twin boys. Awesome.'

'Thank you, Ethan,' I said, as I felt a kick from one of my little guys.

'Are you feeling a bit better about it?'

'A tiny bit maybe,' I said. I wasn't yet thrilled with the news, but at least I no longer viewed it as a curse or a punishment. 'Thank you for acting happy about it.'

'I am happy about it.'

I smiled to myself and slid my leg across the cool sheets, finding Ethan's chilly foot. 'Love you, Ethan.' I held my breath, worried that despite dropping the I'm I love you (which always makes the sentiment seem safe and platonic), I had still said too much. I didn't want to give him the impression that I wanted more than his friendship.

'Love you too, Darce,' Ethan said, wiggling his toes against mine.

I smiled in the dark, letting go of my worries, and falling into a very deep and peaceful sleep.

twenty-four

The next morning I awoke in a fresh panic. How in the world was I ever going to manage twins? Would Ethan let us live with him? Would two cribs even fit in my tiny room? What if I couldn't find a job? I had less than two thousand dollars left in my account-barely enough to cover my hospital bills, let alone baby supplies, food, rent. I told myself to calm down, stay focused on my list, and take things one day at a time.

So for the rest of the week, I was all about the job hunt. I kept an open mind, diligently seeking any kind of work: high-minded jobs, jobs in PR, even menial jobs. I checked the papers, made phone calls, hit the pavement. Nothing turned up-except some disappointing findings regarding the difficulty of securing a work permit. Even worse, I learned that all female employees in England are entitled to twenty-six weeks' maternity leave. Not exactly promising news. Who would hire me so far along in my pregnancy, knowing they'd have to let me go for six months? I began to worry that I was going to have to return to New York. To my old job and my old life. It was the last thing I wanted to do.

By Saturday evening, I was totally drained and disheartened and ready to let my hair down at Meg's party, stop worrying for one night. I took my time getting ready, trying on several maternity outfits that I had purchased at H amp;M (which didn't count as frivolous shopping as my regular wardrobe no longer fit) before settling on a simple black dress. I stood in front of the mirror, admiring the way it hugged my stomach and hips, showcasing my bump. I added a touch of mascara and gloss, deciding not to hide my glow of pregnancy behind a veil of heavy makeup. Then I slid on a pair of simple black heels and my diamond studs from Dex. The result, if I do say so myself, was understated elegance.

Ethan returned home just as I was heading out the door.

He whistled as he rested his open palm on my stomach and then patted. 'You look great. Where are you off to?'

I reminded him that I had been invited to a dinner party. 'Remember? The girls I met at the coffee shop last week?'

'Oh, yeah. The English girls,' he said. 'I'm impressed that you got the invite. Most Americans don't get invited into a Brit's home until their going-away party.' It wasn't his first comment on the closed nature of British society, one of the few things he did not like about the country.

'I am very excited about it,' I said. 'I hope it feels like a night out with Bridget Jones.'

'You mean a bunch of neurotic women chain-smoking, talking about losing weight and shagging their bosses?'

'Something like that,' I said, laughing. 'So what are you up to tonight?'

'Didn't I tell you?… I'm going to dinner with Sondrine.' I felt a stab of envy as he gave me a sheepish look. He knew full well that he hadn't mentioned his date with her. In fact, he hadn't mentioned her at all since the day I met her at the Muffin Man.

'No. You didn't tell me.' I nodded toward the plastic bag he was holding from Oddbins, a wine shop near us. 'And apparently you have plans for after dinner too?'

He said maybe, he'd see how dinner went.

'Well, have fun. I'm off,' I said, telling myself not to dwell on his relationship.

As I headed out the door, Ethan asked if I planned on taking a cab.

'No. The tube,' I said, holding up my tube pass. 'I'm very frugal these days-in case you hadn't noticed.'

'It's too late for you to take the tube alone.'

'I thought you said the tube was safe at night?' I asked.

'It is. But… I don't know. You're pregnant. Here you go.' He opened his wallet, pulled out a few bills, and tried to hand them to me.

'Ethan, I don't need your money. I'm operating perfectly well within the confines of my budget,' I said, even though one of my credit cards had been declined at Marks amp; Spencer that morning when I tried to buy a new bra to support my burgeoning, pregnant-girl D cups.

He slipped the money back in his wallet and said, 'Okay… but please take a cab.'

'I will,' I said, feeling touched that he was being so protective. 'You be careful too.' I winked.

He gave me a puzzled look.

'Wear a condom.'

He rolled his eyes and gave me a dismissive wave, which I translated to mean: 'Don't be crazy. I'm not sleeping with her anytime soon.' Then he kissed me good-bye on the cheek and I caught a whiff of his cologne. The scent was nice, and it made me feel strangely melancholy. I reminded myself that Simon the Ginger was waiting for me at an English dinner party in Mayfair.

But as I sat in the back of the cab on my way to Meg's flat, psyching myself up for the evening ahead, I couldn't get rid of the pit in my stomach. It wasn't just my seeming jealousy over Sondrine and Ethan's date, or my overarching worry about mothering twins. I was also just plain nervous for the party. Anxiety was not an emotion I could ever remember feeling when I went out in New York, and I wondered why tonight felt so different. Maybe it was because I no longer had a boyfriend or fiance. I suddenly recognized that there was a safety in having someone, as well as a lack of pressure to shine. Ironically, this had cultivated a certain free-spiritedness that had,