I wait, letting it sink in. I try to stay calm, but the hope that bubbles inside me makes my heart race.Please, please, please, please, please say yes…
He lifts a hand, pushes the mask up over his hair, and removes it. Swallowing hard, I do the same, and we study each other across the table.
“You’re asking me to be a sperm donor?” he says.
I nod.
He looks a mixture of bewildered and touched. “I’m incredibly flattered.”
“I’m asking because we’ve known each other a long time, and I consider you a good friend. But I need you to know it has nothing to do with your money.”
He blinks then, as if that thought hadn’t occurred to him, but he realizes it should have.
“I don’t want anything from you,” I continue firmly. “Apart from your sperm, I mean. Not your money, or your time. I’m not expecting you to be involved at all. You don’t even have to be named on the birth certificate if you don’t want. And if you’d like to draw up some kind of contract to that end, I’ll happily sign it and say I’ll never approach you for anything.”
“Okay. I understand.”
We sit there quietly. Inside, the ball is in full swing. The band is playing a dance track, and the dance floor is full of people bouncing to the music. Everywhere, I can see wealth, power, and beauty. This is Caesar’s world now. It’s not mine. I don’t fit in here. I’d much rather be home in the bath with a good book.
There’s a huge Christmas tree in the corner of the bar. Its fairy lights twinkle, transporting me back to my childhood. Christmas is so magical when you’re a child. Or it should be. Santa, Rudolph, the elves, sacks full of rustling presents…
I found out the truth about Santa when I was six. I was far too young. I want to recapture the magic with my own child. Leave out a mince pie and a carrot when they go to bed. Look out at the night sky to see if we can spot Santa’s sleigh. I want it so much, it’s a permanent deep ache inside me.
“Why me?”
I look back at Caesar. He’s watching me, and now that I can see his expression I realize he’s puzzled. “If it’s not about the money, why choose me? I mean, I know we’re friends, but we haven’t seen each other for a long time. You must have other male friends you’re closer to.”
“There’s a lot more to you than money,” I say softly. “You’re a good man. Kind. Considerate. Thoughtful. Funny. Hardworking. Gentle, but authoritative. Confident but not arrogant. They’re wonderful traits, the kind I’d like my child to have.”
His brow creases a little, as if he doesn’t quite believe me. “I really am incredibly touched. I think it’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
“So…” I can hardly breathe. “Is that a yes?”
He looks into my eyes. And then he looks away, across the bar. I watch as he scans the crowd as if he’s searching for someone. Aurelia? Then, for the first time, I remember what happened when he first walked up to me. The way Marcus smirked and leaned forward to whisper something in his brother’s ear. And how Caesar turned away and hastily fiddled with his shirt buttons. It’s unlikely that he left his house with them done up the wrong way.
“Oh…” I realize what’s happened. “Did you meet someone here tonight?”
His gaze comes back to me, and he opens his mouth to say something. Then he gives a short laugh and runs his hand through his hair. “Is it that obvious?”
Like a ship taking on water, my heart slowly sinks. “Who was she?”
“No idea.” He has the grace to look embarrassed. “I’m so sorry. I’m sure that’s the exact opposite of what you wanted to hear from the potential father of your child.”
I give a short laugh. “It’s none of my business. But… you liked her, didn’t you?”
He leans back, picks up his whiskey glass, and swirls the amber liquid over the ice. “Yeah.”
Disappointment sits in my stomach, heavy as a stone. I spent a long time making sure he wasn’t dating anyone. I knew he’d be more unlikely to say yes to my proposal if he was seeing someone else. Ultimately, most sperm donors play no practical part in the creation of a baby and have nothing to do with the child as they grow up. So it shouldn’t matter if a woman’s partner says he’s going to donate. It doesn’t affect her at all.
But of course, in the real world, nobody wants their husband or partner to father another woman’s child. If I was seeing a guy, it would feel weird to think some other woman was using his sperm to get pregnant. Conception is such an intimate thing. It creates an unbreakable bond between the child’s mother and father. When they’re strangers, with no contact, it’s probably easier to deal with, but if they know each other? That’s a whole different scenario.
I force myself to smile. “Are you going to try to track her down?”
“I couldn’t if I wanted to.” He frowns. “I think she wore a wig.” Then he gives a wry smile as I giggle.
“You’re a bad boy,” I scold. “Having a one-night stand at a gala!”
He blows out a long breath. “Yeah, maybe.” His brows draw together as he looks at me. “I’m sorry.”
