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T H I R T Y F I V E
- Maeve -
Maddy’s thumbs were flying across her phone screen when I arrived at Brisket Bar, a BBQ spot we’d been meaning to try for ages.
“Hi,” I said, pulling out the chair across from her. “Sorry I’m late. Traffic was murder. And by traffic, I mean the client meeting I should’ve rescheduled for Monday.”
“That’s okay,” she said, lifting her chin but not her eyes. “Just give me one sec.”
I assumed she was messaging Quinn for how rosy her cheeks were, so I took my time removing my coat and admiring the simple décor, which was mostly composed of repurposed wooden pallets and neon silhouettes of farm animals.
“Sorry about that,” she said, slipping her phone in her bag. “Just wanted to wish Quinn good luck for poker night.”
Her smitten smile reminded me of how I’d felt after Finn and I fooled around in his Jeep. I’d never felt more spontaneous, free, and optimistic in my life. It was basically the opposite of how I felt that morning when I got my period. Which was stupid. Any other outcome would’ve been disastrous. For him, anyway.
“So what’s up?”
“My folic acid,” I joked, wondering if the prenatal vitamins I’d been taking were doing any good.
Her expression blanked.
“I narrowed down the donors,” I said, getting to the point. “There’s an official top three.”
Her brows strained towards me. “For real?”
I nodded. “I was hoping you might take a look at their profiles, actually, even though it’s not exactly polite dinner chat.”
“Of course,” she said, straightening up. “Did you bring them?”
I grabbed the folder from my purse, and when I righted myself, a waitress was waiting to take our order.
Maddy ordered the house cider and a pulled pork sandwich. I ordered the same sandwich but asked for the non-alcoholic cider.
“You’re going to make me drink alone?” she asked, feigning a pout after the waitress left.
“Sorry,” I said, handing over the profiles. “I’m hoping to be inseminated before the end of the month, and I want to give myself every advantage.”
“Isn’t relaxing part of the preparation process?”
“I suppose. The counselor did tell me to avoid stress.”
Maddy cocked her head. “What counselor?”
“I was assigned one through the clinic. It’s part of the process. Just because someone’s financially fit enough to buy a few vials of frozen sperm doesn’t automatically mean they’ll agree to knock you up.”
Maddy’s brow furrowed. “Seems reasonable. What kind of stuff did she ask you?”
“Nothing too strange. She mostly wanted to make sure I understood the process, had the support of my family, and knew what my employer’s maternity leave policy was. It was all pretty standard. Frankly, the best part was that she didn’t ask me anything I hadn’t already thought about.”
Her eyes crinkled at the edges. “Well that’s good.”
I lifted my chin towards the profiles, eager to get her opinion on the three remaining candidates. It seemed important that my little sister “meet” The Guy before he became my baby’s father.
“Daniel’s no slouch,” she said, her brown eyes skipping across the page.
I’d spent so much time with the profiles I’d practically memorized them. Daniel was 5’11 with brown eyes. Top of his class at Dartmouth. No allergies. Favorite food was pizza, and he enjoyed playing blues guitar in his spare time. No history of heart disease.
“Hard to fault this guy,” Maddy said as she read along. “I’m sort of intimidated by how perfect he sounds.”
