I swallow hard. I’m not even going to think about what else might have grown.
He might not have been wealthy when he was young, but that’s the world he exists in now. Even here in his jeans and shirt, there’s something about him that exudes money. His hair looks as if it was cut five minutes ago, expertly shaved at the back with a neat fade, not a hair out of place. He’s wearing a third expensive watch in the space of three days. He’s taken his phone out of his back pocket and tossed it on the armchair, and it lookslike a brand-new iPhone, one of the huge ones, no doubt a super pro advanced version with a gajillion gigabytes of memory. I glance at where mine’s sitting on the coffee table. It’s five years old, needs restarting three times a day, and has a crack in the screen.
At that moment, as if it knows I’m thinking about it, it vibrates, rattling on the table, making me jump. I go over and pick it up. Oh holy shit, it’s Caesar calling.
“Sorry,” I mumble, “I just need to take this.”
Marcus is busy sorting out the LEGO pieces and doesn’t even look up. I walk over to the sliding door, open it, and go out onto the balcony. Then I close the door behind me and answer the phone, “Hello?”
This house may be minuscule, but I love the tiny garden because if I go through the gate at the bottom, it’s only a short walk down another road to the ocean. I breathe in the scent of the sea air and try to concentrate on the call.
“It’s me,” Caesar says. “Did you have a nice Christmas?”
“I did, thank you.” I cast a surreptitious glance over my shoulder. Marcus is still sitting on the carpet, no doubt being grilled by Clare. He’s smiling though, so I presume her questions haven’t become too invasive yet. “You?”
“Yeah, great. Mum and Dad’s house is right on the beach, so we spent most of it in the sea.”
That explains Marcus’s sun-kissed complexion.
“I’ve been thinking a lot,” Caesar says. “About what you asked me.”
I turn away from the house and focus on the Pohutukawa tree in the corner with its beautiful red flowers. “And?” I whisper.
“And… if you still want me to donate, I’ll do it.”
I inhale. “Oh…”
“Look, Wren… I want to help you. And you know you can always come to me as a friend. But I agree that it’ll probably be best if I remain anonymous. If I do settle down and get married someday, I just think it’ll be better if… well… she doesn’t know I’ve fathered a child. I mean, I know lots of guys donate sperm, but bearing in mind you’re a friend… does that make sense?”
“It does,” I say softly. “I understand.”
“It’s tough for women nowadays. Hard to date and find someone, and difficult when you want a child. Having to wait two years is wrong, and I wanted to help.”
“I really appreciate it, Caesar. Thank you. Can I ask… did you tell Marcus you were going to call me today?”
“No. Why?”
“You told him I’d asked you to donate, though, right?”
“Oh, yeah.” He sounds embarrassed. “I’m sorry about that. Something’s happened with Ashford AgriTech.”
“Yes, there’s a proposed buyout, I heard.”
“How did you hear?” He sounds astonished.
“Marcus.”
“You’ve seen him?”
I sigh. “He’s here right now.”
“What? Why?”
I study my feet. “He came to find me on Christmas Eve. He… asked me to marry him.”
“Oh… shit!” He laughs. “He said he was going to get married. I didn’t realize he meant to you!” He pauses. “Have you said yes?”
“No. Not yet.”
