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“That’s one of the first things I did when I got here,” I confirm.
“And?”
“I was right,” I say quietly, staring down at my hands in my lap. “It is endometriosis. An outgrowth of tissue around my uterus. Mine’s at a moderate stage, also known as stage three out of four. It’s not a complete disaster, but it’s going to make my journey toward motherhood a lot more difficult.” I haven’t spoken about the diagnosis with anyone other than my doctor. It surprises me that I open up to Arsène so easily when I haven’t had this conversation with Ma or my sisters yet.
“What’s the next stage?” he asks.
“Well.” I gnaw at my lower lip. “My doctor says I should freeze my eggs. Or, better yet, embryos. They last longer and have a better success rate.”
“But ...?” He searches my face, leaning forward. He is doing that thing again where his body is in complete sync with mine. It reminds me that having sex with him is a euphoric experience. The back of my neck tingles, and my palms get sweaty.
I decide to go for broke and just tell him the God’s-honest truth.
“I still need to think about it. It’s very expensive, and I can’t afford it. Notallof it, anyway. Especially now, when I don’t have Paul’s ... er ...”
“Sperm,” Arsène finishes for me, standing up abruptly, businesslike. “Well, I’ll give you both.”
I peer at him through my lashes, confused. “What do you mean?”
“You need money and sperm. I’ll give you both. I will do that for you,” he says decisively.
“But ... why?”
He opens his mouth to answer. I hear a car door slam in front of my porch, and the sound of it being locked automatically. Arsène’s mouth shuts into a tight-lipped scowl. I stand up and peek at the person making their way up the stairs to the porch, and my heart sinks.
Talk about worst timing ever.
“Hi, Rhys.” I hope I sound friendly and not murderous. It’s not Rhys’s fault I was in the middle of the most important conversation of my life. “What’re you doing here?”
Rhys eyes Arsène with surprise and dissatisfaction, lifting my cardigan in the air between us. “You forgot this in my car yesterday. I’d have given it to you earlier, but practice ran late.”
My eyes snap to Arsène. I can see he’s done the math, that he gathers Rhys is my ex-boyfriend. The very one who got away. Arsène plasters a cocksure smirk on his face and sits back like a bored king, a sign his hackles are on the rise.
“Er, thank you. Rhys, this is Arsène. Arsène, this is Rhys.”
They shake hands, with Arsène not even bothering to stand up.
“An old friend?” my ex asks politely.
“God, no. I can’t befriend women I want to fuck.” Arsène laughs, deliberately crass. “No, I’m here to make Winnifred an illicit proposition.”
Rhys’s face pales, and his eyes bulge out.Christ.
“Well, thank you so much for the cardigan! You know I run cold. Ha ha.” I place a hand on his arm, ushering him back to his car. I am all but kicking him out, and I don’t feel good about it. On the other hand, I think I might die if Arsène and I don’t finish our conversation soon. My ex-boyfriend stumbles his way toward his car, glancing behind his shoulder.
“Who’s this guy, Winnie? He sounds like Satan’s big brother.”
“Don’t worry about him,” I singsong. “He’s surprisingly tolerable once you get to know him.”
“I don’t know.” Rhys stops in front of his Jeep but doesn’t make a move to enter. “I feel like I should stay here, make sure you’re okay.”
“I can handle this on my own.” I smile tightly.
Please, please leave.
“But ...”
“My goodness!” I throw my hands in the air, losing patience. “I know you mean well, but please, Rhys, just let me handle this. I’m a big girl, and I’ve been doing my thing for over a decade without your help.”
