Natalia

The V of the T-shirt Kate lent me plunges almost to my belly button. Combined with the only pair of her pants that fit my butt but hug every curve, I look like I'm off to interview as a stripper, instead of heading out to manage my lab at a highly competitive pharmaceuticals company. Today might be the day when wearing a lab coat is going to be a positive.

My back twinges when I bend to place the folded blanket over the sheets and a stiff pillow on Kate's couch.

"Why d'you bother? Just leave the bedding out." Kate peers at me from the kitchen corner of her studio apartment. She welcomed me with open arms when I took a ride-share here Friday night, instead of going home with Samson. I'm not sure how many more nights in addition to the three I already spent on Kate's foldout IKEA couch that's been with her since her college days will I survive without getting a permanent back injury. She pours the drip coffee—I only accept not to offend my friend—into two to-go mugs. "You're coming here tonight. Right? You aren't going to let that asshole talk you into going back to him."

Samson's not an asshole, not really. Which is the main reason I stayed with my colleague and best friend here over the weekend, instead of returning to the apartment he and I have been sharing for four years. My fiancé... Heat flares in the middle of my stomach. My ex-fiancé is not a bad man. He's just not who I thought he was.

"First." I curl my fingers around the tumbler, focusing on the smooth metal surface, instead of the fury in my gut. "I'm a guest who's overstaying her welcome and I don't want you to think I'm making your apartment a mess—"

"Have you seen my apartment?" Kate points to the piles of things stacked by the wall, her unmade bed, the kitchen counter covered in books and papers, and a long-dead plant I can't identify.

I fluff the decorative pillow that says "Happy Easter" even though it's August. "That's your mess. I don't need to be contributing."

Kate moves her hand in a give-me-more gesture. "And..."

"What?" I take a sip. The acidic liquid fills me with instant regrets.

"You said first. What's second? Tell me you're not caving into Samson's texts to go home." Kate puts her palms together as if in prayer and makes a pleading kitten face that her large green eyes are perfect for. "Tell me you are not..."

I turn away from Kate's cartoonish stare. "We needed the time apart to cool down and think things through. But we'll have to talk. We've been together for ten years."

My throat has a lump I struggle to swallow. I busy myself stuffing my badge into my tiny, sequenced bag and fail to wrap my head around a life where Samson is no longer my partner. More than half of my adult life it's been Samson and Natalie. He had a college girlfriend before, but since our first date it's been him and me. I didn't have to worry where he learned what we did in bed, because ninety percent of our repertoire we acquired together.

We did everything together.

Everything made sense.

Was reliable.

Solid.

I press my palm on my mouth to keep the anguish in.

"Are you okay?" Kate takes the three steps that separate the kitchen nook and the couch.

I shake my head. "No. I'm not. I just...People like us don't break up like that. Friday night was my knee-jerk reaction. Outside of normal."

Kate lays her hands on my tense shoulders and massages them.

"I was stressed about the event." My mind plays back Samson's words. "And him bringing it up was the final straw—"

"It? Now kids are an it?" The indignation I felt when I threw my engagement ring at Samson is fully present in Kate's voice.

"I'm not backing off," I say with the only certainty I currently possess. "Having kids is non-negotiable. He was fully aware of the fact. I'm sure I've overreacted. We just have to talk things through. You know what I mean?"

"I don't. And I don't think you do either." Kate crosses her arms on her chest. "Or should I remind you what you called him on Saturday? How betrayed you felt? I should've recorded the damn thing."

"I remember plenty." I snap at her as matching the shrill of the microwave beep. Kate raises her hands in an I-give-up gesture and backs away from me. I take another sip of the brown swill in my mug. "Those were the emotions talking. You know what I think about those. Making decisions based on emotions is a surefire road to mistakes."

Kate huffs and takes a defrosted breakfast sandwich out of the microwave. "Why are you coming up with excuses for his behavior?"

"I'm not." I clank the tumbler on the counter. The fire inside my chest that I couldn't control on Friday, reignites. I ignore the scorching flames. "I'm being rational. Samson and I have been together for ten years. Ten. He ticks off all the checkboxes I have for a partner. We work." I follow her out of her apartment. "We've never had a fight until Friday. Ever."

"A red flag right there if you ask me." Kate locks her door.

"I'm not asking you." Memories break free. Mom hitting Dad's chest as he grabs her wrists. Them shouting the hurtful words they succeeded at creating mixing languages together. Mom saying, she wouldn't have been feeling powerless and lost if she weren't traveling across countries with Dad, chained by a kid she never planned. I massage my aching temples, willing for the past to stay in the past. "Our views on romance differ."

"Romance? I don't think you've ever experienced romance. Samson has been it for you. You are like an old married couple, and you aren't even married." In one bite, she demolishes half of the pale sad-looking pastry imitation I declined earlier, and washes it down with swigs from her mug, as we walk down the stairs to her garage.

"That's exactly what I like." I slam the door of her tiny electric car.

Samson and I were a well-oiled machine. We had our morning routine: me making us coffees in the fancy espresso contraption he got for my thirtieth birthday. Our afternoon routine of lining up our lunch times so we could eat together. Our evening routine of me going for a run while he made dinner, and we read the recent scientific magazines or worked on our own articles. We stuck to things that worked. Cutting Samson out would mean shearing my life in half.

Maybe I can still fix this.

"With Samson, there's no drama. No reason to worry," I say while Kate chews the rest of her food and can't interrupt me. "He was wrong bringing up the topic of kids at the party, but if we just sit and discuss what I mean about having kids and what his vision is, and how we can cross the gap...We are serious, responsible adults. We can figure it out."

"Or..." Kate licks the crums off her lip. "You could forget Samson." She announces her idea as if it's as easy as putting in a new memory chip. "Let me get you on the dating apps, so you can enjoy yourself. Let loose. No checkmarks—just pure self-serving pleasure."

"Absolutely not." I grip the handle above the door as Kate takes a left turn on what was probably already a red light by the time we hit the intersection. "I've been on enough first dates before Samson to never want to dip my toes into the dating pool again. If it was horrible for a twenty something me. For the thirty-something me? Forget it."

"Okay." Kate runs mascara over her eyelashes while we sit on a red light. "I'll play along. You talk with Samson. He repeats he's not into the whole having kids thing. Where are you going to meet your future baby daddy then? You can't spend twelve plus hours at work and hope your perfect match would just appear."

"I realize that." Like I haven't spent hours during the weekend going over every possible scenario in my mind. "That's why talking to Samson is—"

"No, please, don't go back into that mire." She's back to her pleading eyes, that are even more impactful now that her eyelash flutter is more visible. Our conversation flowed so much better when she had food in her mouth."No matter how good he is on paper, Samson is not what you need."

"And what do I need, Dr. Serov?" Her post-doc work was what got her a spot in our lab three years ago and brought us to sharing a bench.

Kate pushes up imaginary glasses on her nose. "Someone who'll sweep you off your feet."

"You and your fairy-tales." A chuckle slides through my teeth. "You should've been a children's books author, not a scientist."

"I'm creating the magic in the lab. What can be better?" Kate angles the mirror and glides fire-engine-red lipstick across her lips. "But back to my point: you need more fun, not more serious stuff."

"Too late." I laugh without humor and watch the cars around us. "Fun is overrated anyways."

"So what's your next step?"

The tears and anger I stuffed below my ribcage, because neither is productive, want out of their prison. I clench my jaw. Neither is going to help me come up with a new plan before I face Samson.

I need a place to live that's not Kate's studio but that I can pay for, a strategy for working alongside my ex without ripping his thick curls out of his scalp one hair at a time or behaving like he's anything more than a colleague, and an affordable path to what now might be my only other option: single motherhood. "Talking to Samson and calling our insurance about IVF. D'you know if it's in our plan?"

Kate looks to her left, as she merges onto 41. "Are you asking me that? What gives you an idea I ever inquired into IVF coverage?"

I hug my torso. Can I do it alone? Fear sends chillds down my spine. "I read yesterday you can freeze the embryos and use them later. Maybe Samson and I—"

"No. No. No." Kate shakes her head so hard, I'm afraid her earrings will fly off and skewer me. "I'd much rather you have a contract with a sperm donor than do anything with Samson."

My phone dings in my pillbox purse, the only reminder of my Friday night attire.

"Samson again?" Kate rolls her eyes.

I take out my phone.

Whoville: Coffee today?

A smile tugs at my lips.

"Stop smiling at Samson's messages." Kate's voice is no longer jokey. "I forbid you to smile. Even if he doesn't know you're smiling it's a win for him."

"It's not Sampson."

"What? Who is making you smile via text? I'm the only person who's ever managed to do that to my knowledge."

"Just an old friend." Tingles run across my collarbone.

Kate reaches her hand over the armrests and attempts to take my cell.

"You're driving. Stop it." I shove her arm away.

"This is barely driving. It's more like army crawling in a car." She glances at me, and I try to school my face back into a serious expression. "Do I need to drag this out of you?"

"Phillip."

She curls her lips down and nods. "That clarifies it. I know exactly who you're talking about." The smile that was on my lips emerges on hers.

"Haha," I say as theatrically as I can.

"Glad you appreciate my sarcasm. You have thirty minutes until we get to work. Spill."

The scenes of my fight with Samson on Friday night disappear as I see the grin on Phillip's face when he recognized me. "Phillip Van der Heuvel."

Kate jerks her chin my way, and I'm surprised the entire car doesn't veer right. "As in the Van der Heuvel Industries?"

"Sure, yeah."

"The playboy billionaire who's been in tabloids for the Baxter sisters...kerfuffle? And you never thought to mention you know the guy?"

"Not know. Knew." Not like I ever thought of him as a celebrity. He was rich and had a rotating door of girls on and off campus, but when it was him and me, there was a different Phillip. Or at least my delusional self thought then. I brush my hair to one side and start a lose braid. "We went to college together."

"He's texting you. Seems like it's back to know." Kate narrows her eyes at the road. "Samson this, Samson that. All I heard all weekend was you moaning about Samson, but you choose not to tell me the main juicy reunion? Is he taking you out on a date? What does he want?"

"Why do you think he wants anything?" My pulse races.

"Haven't you heard about his reputation? I don't see him spending time with a woman if he's not planning to pin her to the wall. Not that I wouldn't want to be pinned to the wall by him, but sounds to me you're the next butterfly he wants to pin and"-she makes kissy sounds-"mount."

"I don't have to worry about that." I sound even-keel, but heat prickles my cheeks. Fifteen years ago, I would've been the happiest person on earth if Phillip paid attention to me. Today I have much bigger fish to fry than fantasizing about his lips on mine, running down my neck or him wrapping me in his arms, as they slide down to my waist...nope. That was the young and naive Nata. I take the red lipstick Kate set into the cup holder between us, flip the mirror and dab my lips with it. "Just a coffee with an old friend. I'm sure he'll be flying back to New York soon."

"That's an idea." Kate takes her mascara want and passes it over to me. "Maybe he can be your rebound lay? No strings. You find out how good he's in bed"-she lowers her voice to suggestive whisper-"and tell me everything." I almost poke the mascara wand into my eye. My heart thuds against my breastbone. Kate winks at me. "And go your separate ways."

"No." I wipe the black dot off my nose. "He never saw me that way anyway. We were just friends. Plus, I don't need a rebound. We've established that what I'm in need of is a sperm donor."