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“She doesn’t have to do it today.” Doctor W’s voice gently tugged my attention away from my mom’s beautiful face. “Just because we’ve prepared you for the procedure, we can do it next month, but I wouldn’t delay too much more than a few months. The window of opportunity to conceive is narrowing.” She considered me with a professional, unemotional expression. I appreciated her delicate way of saying pick either a baby or a hysterectomy.
“No pressure, huh?” I elbowed Birdie on my other side. She wasn’t with me for only moral support. We’d lied to my dad and hers that we were going dress shopping for Sadie’s and Bryce’s wedding. It was more of a half-truth. We’d gone to the bridal shop before my appointment to look around, but we had six months to pick and order our dress. And honestly, I was hesitant to buy mine. If I moved forward with the procedure, I might be pregnant and as big as a house in June.
“I already told you. I’ll be your surrogate when you’re ready. Let them harvest your eggs, then do the hysterectomy.”
“But I want to experience carrying my own baby.” I appreciated her offer and resolve to being my baby cooker. But I knew Birdie about as well as I knew myself. She’d bond with my baby, and it would rip out her heart to give it up, just as it would be for me to do the same. “How much time do I have?”
“It’s hard to say,” Dr. W replied. “We’ve been able to manage your pain levels, but without hormone therapy, the disease will continue to spread. Either way, your ability to have a baby is at risk.” Doctor W typed on her laptop, the crease between her eyes deepening the longer she focused on the screen. She’d been the one who diagnosed me with stage two endometriosis. So many questions had been answered after meeting with her.
For years, I’d been dealing with excruciating pain and heavy bleeding during my periods. I’d had the worst high school experience because of it. When my friends went to school dances or it was karaoke night in the clubhouse, I’d been in bed, curled into a tight ball in tears.
I hated my body.
I hated every one of my girlfriends for being normal.
I hated everything.
After my high school graduation, I’d entered stage three. My hopes of going to college to be a teacher like my mom had been stolen from me. What was worse was I knew what people said about me being a moody bitch. Nobody in the compound had actually called me a bitch. My mom and Auntie Maddy would have shut it down. But I’d been confident many thought about it, because I would have.
I’d been in constant pain while trying to live a normal life, and it had been difficult to be nice when everything annoyed me. Happy people made me crazy with envy. My rude, snarky attitude had made it difficult for me to tolerate just about anything.
My mom had tried to convince me to tell our MC family what I’d been going through, but I’d made her promise to not speak a word of it. Well, except for Maddy and Birdie, who were both of our closest friends. And of course, my dad.
God, my dad. He’d been my hero from day one. He’d brought me my favorite treats when I was laid up in bed, writhing in pain. Because of him, I never ran out of my favorite sour apple candies. Every month, he’d refill my glass jar on my bedside table and set a fresh bouquet of flowers next to it.
My dad had been so sweet and loving. Protective to the max after he found out about my condition. And he’d kept my secret and made excuses for my rotten behavior.
It killed me to lie to him about this appointment. But we all knew he wouldn’t support my decision to have a baby on my own. He was old-fashioned and stubborn. When my mom had told him how serious my endometriosis was and that my baby bearing years were limited because I’d have to get a hysterectomy, he’d blown her off. To Hero Fuentes, if God didn’t give me a baby the good old-fashioned way, it wasn’t meant to be.
How could he believe I wasn’t meant to be a mother? I adored babies and children. I wanted to be an elementary school teacher and have ten kids.
Okay, ten was a lot. But I wanted as many as I could have before my doctor cut my uterus out of my body.
I didn’t need a husband to have a baby. I could care for my child by myself, and had the best family a girl could ask for with the Knight’s Legion MC. The old ladies and my MC cousins would help me.
Of course, if the right man had come along, I might feel differently, but…
Not one of my boyfriends had been husband or daddy material.
Not one of them could handle my hot—cold attitude and how I’d drop off the planet for weeks at a time.
Not one of them could hold a candle to Dante Montez.
“Let’s do it.” The words spilled from my mouth as I pictured Dante. Not once had he contacted me after he left for the army. Stupidly, it hurt. But I wouldn’t let thoughts of a future with him interfere with my decision today. He wouldn’t return for five more months. Time wasn’t on my side to see if we might reconnect.
For all I knew, he might have a girlfriend. Or he might try to get Birdie, which would never happen. I knew her heart belonged to Raymond, even if he didn’t want her.
My mom gave my hand a gentle, supportive squeeze.
“Can I look at the donor I picked one more time?” I asked Dr. W.
“Of course.” She passed me the paper. “I’ll be right back.”
After she left the room, I studied the details of my sperm donor. He had brown hair and eyes, and an athletic build. He played football in college and had a degree in sports medicine. The donor seemed pretty perfect, and the pictures of him as a baby and child reminded me of Dante.
“Your baby will be adorable.” Birdie leaned against me and stared at the paper. “I can’t wait to be an auntie.”
“I might not get pregnant the first time. Or second or third.” The thought of it never happening had me blinking back tears. “I just want one of my own.”
