Zonnique gasped. “I’m just as shocked about this shit as you are! You’re acting like I knew the whole time and kept quiet just so I could get free dick out of you!”
“Don’t forget to addgooddick,” I corrected. “Best you ever had, if we telling the whole truth.”
She rolled her eyes. “You are so damn full of yourself!”
“And knowing you, that don’t mean you didn’t do exactly what I said.”
Her expression hardened. “You really think I’m that trifling?”
“I think you’re selfish enough to look me in my face and lie with a smile. Also selfish enough to moan my name at night while hiding the one truth that could’ve ended this whole arrangement.” I leaned forward, my stare cutting into her. “Because the second I found out you couldn’t carry my child, you knew another woman would… and you couldn’t stand the thought of somebody else having my baby and becoming my wife.”
Dr. Fairchild tried to intervene, voice trembling. “T-There are still options, of course! I’ve already compiled a list of—”
I stood abruptly, then shoved the papers off the desk with one sharp sweep of my hand. They fluttered through the air, scattering across the floor.
Zonnique flinched and the doctor cursed under his breath.
“Keep yo’ fuckin’ list!” I sneered. “I don’t like wasting time, money, or effort. This could’ve been a phone call and you could’ve saved yourself the sweat and stuttering.”
Dr. Fairchild nodded frantically, hands shaking.
“Merge, wait!” Zonnique blurted behind me. “I know you’re angry but just try to hear him out about the options! Youneedthis child, remember?”
I froze.
Damn right I do… and that’s the problem.
That waswhythat whole situation had me on edge.
Rage curled low in my gut, but I turned anyway, just enough to meet the doctor’s eyes.
I exhaled. “What are the options?”
Dr. Fairchild cleared his throat and straightened, trying to recover some shred of professionalism after nearly getting decked across his own office.
“Well,” he began cautiously, “we do have a few fertility treatment options worth exploring.”
He glanced at Zonnique, then back at me. The hesitation on his face said enough before he even opened his mouth. It was as if he was visibly weighing whether whatever he said next was worth the risk.
“In-vitro fertilization—IVF—remains a viable path. It would involve harvesting your sperm and attempting to fertilize one of her eggs in a controlled lab setting. If we can produce a healthy embryo, we would then transfer it directly into her uterus.”
“And if it doesn’t work?” I countered.
“We have more alternatives!” he answered sharply. “If Miss Guidry’s eggs are viable, we can retrieve them, fertilize them with your sperm, and transfer the embryo to a gestational carrier. If her eggs aren’t suitable, we can use one froma screened donor in our registry… or from someone you personally select.”
I stared at him, waiting for him to get to the point.
“In simpler terms,” he continued, “you can still have a biological child. Miss Guidry simply may not be able to carry the pregnancy herself. The first thing we’ll need from you is a semen sample so we can evaluate it and begin the fertilization process.”
“And where exactly you expect me to leave my shit?” I asked, narrowing my eyes as I folded my hands in front of me.
“At our affiliated laboratory nearby,” Dr. Fairchild replied cautiously.
I tilted my head. “A lab nearby?”
“Yes, sir.”
“So, you want me to walk into some random building, bust a nut in a cup, and leave my entire bloodline in the hands of a technician who probably failed biology three times before somebody passed him out of pity?”
