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as the front door opens and closes, as the weight of him makes the house vibrate faintly when he descends the steps.

    I decide to lie this way for ten more minutes; then I’ll grab my vibrator and probably come quicker than I ever have in my entire life. I turn my head to look at the clock’s red digits. 2:36.

    Nice. I can still catch This American Life with time to spare.

Chapter Two

     

    “Oh, you’re bleeding!” My smile fades as I open the door to the landing and find Noah Aubrey holding a bloody Dunkin’ Donuts napkin to his knee.

    “Hi, Abby,” he says brightly, half bent over. He sets a paper shopping bag at his feet. “Sorry about this. I slipped on the sidewalk.”

    “Out front? Shit, I’m so sorry, I should have salted it again. Well, come in, anyhow.”

    He shuffles past me. “It was your neighbors’ sidewalk.”

    “Let me get you a Band-Aid. Here, take your shoes off.” I close the door and pick up his bag. I see a bottle of wine and a DVD case inside, and I steal a glance at him. Even injured and hunched over, he’s more handsome than I remember, especially with snow still melting in his hair and an apple green scarf wound around his neck. His handsomeness doesn’t punch you in the face like Rob’s. It sort of sneaks up from behind and gives your shoulders a massage, makes you forget about how stressed you felt before he arrived. Having Noah here relaxes me. I take his sporty black coat and toss it over the loveseat. “Hang on a sec.”

    I jog to the kitchen and return with a wet hand towel and a big bandage. “You may as well take off your pants,” I say, laughing.

    He unbuckles his belt. “This wasn’t exactly the icebreaker I’d envisioned.” He drops his black slacks around his ankles and lets me wipe the blood off his skinned knee.

    “Ooh, that looks painful,” I say, and I hear him suck in a breath as I pat it dry. I keep my eyes politely away from his crotch.

    “It’s fine.”

    I smooth the bandage over his knee, stand and crumple the wrapper, and smile at him. “Wow, we’re off to a great start! It’s six thirty-three, and I’ve already gotten your trousers off.”

    “Thanks, Abby.” He hikes his pants back up, pretty dignified, considering. He takes a step forward and catches me off guard, laying a hand on my shoulder and kissing my cheek. “It smells amazing in here.”

    “Ziti, as promised. With sausage.” This feels so much different than with Rob two days ago. I feel as if I know this man. And I’m not 100 percent sure if that’s okay. There’s a reason I chose to not go the anonymous donor route, but there’s also a reason I didn’t scout for an open-minded male friend to do this job for me. I’m all for finding a human connection with the potential father of my future kid, but putting myself in a position to miss that man after the conception’s over is another matter entirely.

    “I brought a bottle of red,” Noah says. “And a movie.”

    “A dirty movie?” I ask and waggle my eyebrows at him.

    “Oh. No, actually. Chinatown .” He casts a glance at the bag, and from the scrunch of his eyebrows alone I can sense him questioning this entire crazy arrangement. “Sorry, is that wrong?”

    I shrug. “Hell if I know. I’m making this up as I go.”

    “I thought maybe we were making a night of it. But if you were thinking of something more utilitarian…?”

    “I honestly have no expectations.” Or I hadn’t until Rob set the initial tone on Sunday. Now Noah’s here with an entirely different approach, and I feel flattered that he wants to hang out for more than just the food and fucking. “I’d love to watch Chinatown with you,” I say.

    “Oh good.”

    “Shall we bust open that wine?” I ask. He follows me into the kitchen where the red daisies stare at me accusingly from the counter. I find him a corkscrew, and Noah works on the bottle while I grab glasses, probably the same two from Sunday afternoon.

    “Dinner