Chapter 1

“So, that’s it. It’s over between us? You’re dumping me?” I asked Angelica as we sat in the TGI Fridays together.

“Not ... as such? I mean ... let me put it this way ... our relationship isn’t ... moving forward in the same way as mine with Shawn. It’s just how it is, papi. Sorry, but them’s the breaks. In a sense, sure, it’s a break-up ... it will certainly look that way to the rest of the world. Whether or not it actually is one, though, a complete severing of our ... intimate bonds ... that’s all up to you, dear,” Angelica had the decency to at least be awkward and nervous about how she dropped the bomb on me.

“Well, when you say that ‘we need to talk’ and that ‘we don’t exactly have much of a future,’ that kinda puts the nail in the coffin lid, doesn’t it? Let’s be frank here, put all of the cards on the table, okay? I want to know what the fuck is going on with you and what your actual thoughts and feelings are ... so we can see what, if any future, there can be.

“I’m not a mind-reader, like most men. Most of us can’t speak female to save our lives. We speak plainly and forcefully to each other most of the time, after all. All of the so-called feminists can’t change that fact. I can’t be privy to your innermost emotions, your logic, etc. What do you mean that it’s all up to me? I thought that what we had ... worked for us ... both of us.

“I mean, hell, why wouldn’t it work for us? Love, sex, all that good stuff, without any of that nasty fidelity, cheating, etc. talk rearing its ugly head. Not exclusivity, sure, but permanence, and isn’t permanence more important, dear? The best of both worlds. We’re lovers, but we don’t fret or sweat the small, petty stuff like boy-toys and side chicks. We both get strange booty and come back to each other’s arms at the drop of a hat,” I made my case as best I could for the status quo to continue well into the future.

“Because that’s not a future, babe. Not for me. It’s a present. It’s definitely a past. But it’s not a future that I can embrace wholeheartedly. You don’t want to change or be changed. You like yourself as you are. That’s cool. I respect that, believe it or not. Unfortunately, I want ... more. I want to be engaged, married, engagement ring, wedding band, etc. A big church wedding, too. I want to be able to bring a guy home to Mom and Dad and say, ‘hey, this is my fiance,’ you know.

“Things have changed. I have started to hit my biological clock. It’s tougher on us girls, you know. We have a built-in expiration date, right? I need someone ... like Shawn. Someone with whom I can build a family, home, raise kids, etc. Relax, I’m not calling you immature. I know you too well for that, Damien. But still, even your name carries ... Satanic undertones, right?

“Shawn’s more of the vanilla type, you know, a bit more old-school. The rom-com leading man. Handsome Irish Catholic type. Cary Grant. Jimmy Cagney. Jason Bateman. Steve Carell. You’re very irreverent, probably indifferent to organized religion at most, if not hostile at times. You’ve already clashed a few times with my family. It’s one thing to screw around and get naughty, but you delight in breaking society’s rules, flouting their norms. Womanizing, sodomy, bondage, incest. Fucking your boss, namely me.

“Sure, that’s me on one level, but it’s not me all of the time. I need to be able to um, how do I put this? Compartmentalize. And hell, I’ll be honest here ... I’m pregnant, okay? And there’s a fairly good chance that it’s his, not yours, because you like to stick it up my ass and he doesn’t. Given the timing and the advantages, I just prefer to let our relationship ... kinda stay in place, assume that it’s Shawn’s baby, walk down the aisle with him.