“Yes! That’s the whole point!” Henry says, astonished. “Did you not understand that?”

We both glare at him.

“It’s a metaphor,” I sigh.

We are sitting in the living room of their loft. Henry needs a lot of room, so the loft is perfect. Super-high ceilings, wide-open space, and it accommodates their large-scale furniture. Holly is sound asleep in the center of their California-king-size bed, blocked all around by pillows.

“The point is, trying to start a new relationship at this point is different from dating in your twenties. Our lives are full of other responsibilities and experiences, and we can’t just let go of them. They make us who we are, but they don’t leave a lot of room for more.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” Jem says thoughtfully. “At least, I hope it’s not true. I think we have an infinite capacity to add love to our lives. You had room for Holly. I think you have room for Nick.”

“Holly arrived all by herself. She didn’t bring a French wife and three kids who call during sex.”

“Wait a minute.” Henry’s paying attention now. “Ex-wife. But that’s not the point. You’re not exactly free of baggage yourself, girlfriend.”

I squint at the ceiling.

“In fact, Nick spent quite a bit of money buying up some of your baggage online, as I recall.”

I begin inspecting my pedicure.

“And he seems pretty willing to play Twister with you. He doesn’t mind putting his hand on your red circles.” He pauses. “I mean... you know what I mean.”

“We all have to live our lives, Chloe,” Jemma chimes in. “We experiment and take some detours, probably make a few mistakes. That’s how we learn and grow and figure out what’s right. We can’t just sit and wait for some perfect person to come along.”

I look up.

“Worth the wait,” I whisper.

“What?”

“Nick said this was worth waiting for. He said he would wait.”

“Why would you want to make him wait?”

“I don’t know,” I say miserably. “But Joe said I was worth waiting for, and I believed him, and then he said it to someone else.”

“Even a baby can see that Joe and Nick are nothing alike,” Henry observes.

“Speaking of babies, I should go check on mine.”

Jemma follows me to their bedroom. Holly’s still out like a light, lying on her back with her arms flung wide, totally secure.

We stand and watch her for a moment in peaceful silence.

“I have to find someone to take care of her, for when I go back to work,” I sigh. “But I can’t bear to think about leaving her all day long with a total stranger.”

“I know,” Jem agrees. “Henry and I were talking about it. She’s precious to us, too.”

We tiptoe out of the room.

“We had an idea,” she says tentatively. “It’s just a thought, and it might not work for you, but… I already work at home, and I could just as easily write at your house as here… and she knows me… and I’ve spent so much time with her already…” she pauses. “And I love her so much.”

“Jem. You’re not serious.”

She studies my face. “Of course you probably want a trained professional nanny, I totally understand, no worries. Someone who speaks three languages or has a degree in babies.”

“Jemma! Are you kidding? Henry! You would seriously do this? I cannot imagine anything more wonderful! It’s such a weight off my shoulders – oh how can I ever thank you?”

Without taking his eyes off the television, Henry suggests “A great benefits package?”

“Anything!” I laugh. “A car, your birthday off, Henry’s birthday off, a dry cleaning allowance! I’d offer free massages, but you already get those.”

I throw my arms around her, then bend down and hug Henry, who struggles away wildly as the stadium crowd begins roaring. “Chloe! I can’t see the play!”

Thus he misses the winning touchdown. He’s mad, but I don’t care. I scored.

We move to the kitchen for chili, which smells fantastic. Jemma starts ladling it into bowls while I plug in the baby monitor and adjust the volume.

“So how did you leave it with Nick?”

“He said to text or call anytime. I will when I’m ready.”

“And just when do you think that might be?”

Is that sarcasm I detect?

“Chloe, I don’t really understand.” She puts down the ladle and turns to face me. “He’s doing everything right. He seems to really like you, and you really like him. The sex is good - “

I make an involuntary sound. She rolls her eyes.

“ - okay, the sex is great. He’s unmarried and gainfully employed and has no arrest record that you know of. You make each other laugh. You belong to the same political party. He can change a diaper and sail a boat, and he likes Sofia Coppola movies. None of your ex-boyfriends could say all of those things. Joe couldn’t even say the first three. What exactly is the problem here?”

“I’m so scared,” comes out of me in a tiny voice.

“Of what?”

“I do really like him. I like him too much. He’s too good. You know that saying, ‘If it’s too good to be true,’...”

She joins in and finishes it with me.

“...‘it’s too good to be true’!”

“Jem, I like him too much,” I repeat slowly. “When I’m with Nick, I am perfectly happy. It’s terrifying. I recently had my heart ripped out, and I remember how it felt. I can’t do that anymore. I have a baby now. I can’t have a man come into our lives and make us happy, and then go out of our lives and make us miserable. We need emotional stability.”

She’s quiet for a minute.

“I understand that, and I respect it. Part of a mom’s responsibilities involves making good choices, and not taking unnecessary risks. But there are other responsibilities, too.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s your job to show Holly what life can hold. I think you have a moral responsibility to live your fullest life, full of love and new experiences.”

She holds up a bowl of chili. “Look at this – thick and full of good stuff, tomatoes and meat and tons of spices. It’s all been simmering together for a long time over a low flame, so it’s got intense flavor. Chips on the side for texture, sour cream for contrast. Delicious. Or instead, I could have served chicken broth. Perfectly good, healthy even, but thin and boring. And you’d be just as hungry after you finished.”