Page 141 of The Difference Between

Remy whispers, “A glassgasm.” She pauses. “Was it hot?”

I flush with the memory of how hot it was. “Extremely.”

“So now what?” Rue asks, pillaging the fridge.

“Now nothing. I got berries and avocados if you need a snack.”

She shoots me a disgusted look over her shoulder.

“What? They’re good for fertility.” My brows lift. “And you’re forty-two.”

“And you’re annoying.” She grabs the berries.

“We’re seeing what happens.” I steal one of the berries and toss it in my mouth. “That’s it.”

“And the baby?” Rue asks. “You finally done chasing your dream donor?”

“No, that’s still happening.” At their looks: “What? He knows what I’m doing.”

“You’re getting off on his glass while investigating other sperm donors?” Remy’s eyes are wide again. “That’s . . .” Her chin dips and brows raise as she searches for the word, settling on “Modern.”

“So, we’re modern?”

“Are you sure he doesn’t care?” Rue asks. “Seems like he would care.”

“He said no more knockouts or stakeouts,” I counter. “He knows what I’m doing, and he literally said, ‘I don’t care.’” I hold my hands up. “He said we would figure it out as it unfolds, and he doesn’t care.”

Mom appears in the doorway and says, “Of course he cares. He’s in love with you. And if he was out hunting women for eggs like the Easter Bunny, you’d care.” She pins me with a stern look then grabs her purse from a hook. “Nancy’s coming to get me so I can help her pick out curtains for her new house.”

Mom’s itching to get out more. The only thing lingering are the headaches, and those are getting better every day. I took her to physical and occupational therapy a few times, but other than needing to build her stamina and taking more naps than usual, she’s her. Even the scarf around her head isn’t necessary because the incision is so easily hidden by her wild mane of hair.

I give her a sweet smile. “Gavin can hunt any eggs he wants.” Gag. “And don’t stay out too late. I’m making salmon.” To Rue, I explain, “Omegas are good for the baby, in case you missed it.”

She rolls her eyes.

When Mom walks out, Remy says, “Mom’s right, he’s in love with you.”

“He’s not in love with me.”

Remy straightens. “Oh my God, Reese. You’re in love with him.”

“No.”

“Liar,” Rue says around a berry I wish she’d choke on.

“Love isn’t the point,” I say around a mouthful of fruit. “He knows I want a baby and how I’m having one.” That’s not a lie. I told him everything and he said we’ll figure it out. I didn’t tell him about my date with Dr. Rhett tomorrow night because he made it perfectly clear he doesn’t want to be part of the process. But he knows what I’m doing and what my goals are. “And I don’t expect him to put his life on hold.”

“Why not just have his baby?” Remy says it like that’s just the kind of thing people do right out of the gate.

“What?” Now I’m incredulous. “I want to get pregnant now.” I pause. “He probably peaked with the glass.”

Lie.

I left last night as soon after Banyan ruined my life with his presence and story, but Gavin and I have been on the phone and texting like teenagers since.

There’ve been bad jokes—there are always bad jokes with him—but there’s been a lot of real stuff too.

Him telling me he worries about Addie being accepted and if he’s doing enough to support her. How he’s been trying to get her into different kinds of therapies but the red tape with insurance moves everything at a snail’s pace. The pressure he puts on himself to be the kind of dad Greg was. I’ve only been here two months but I already know he’s great to her. She’s a girl who lost her parents, yet I’ve never seen someone radiate such hope—she’s a lantern of it. That’s her, of course, but it’s also him. He might be the youngest man I’ve ever been involved with, but he’s also the best.