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No matter how many times you relived it, the picture was always the same. He sipped his drink.
For just a second, earlier that night, Mal had seemed to be soaring again, instead of sagging.
He couldn’t take that from her. No matter what misgivings he might have. No matter how valid they might be.
He was still staring at his computer, his milk almost gone.
If he was going to support Mallory in this venture, he needed to know everything there was to know.
Heading off for some boxers he came back and set to work.
An hour later, he had her on the phone.
“Braden? It’s two in the morning! What’s wrong?”
“You never said when you were going for your first procedure.” Or what kind it was going to be. “For all I know, it’s first thing in the morning. I wanted to chat a second before it happens.”
“Tomorrow’s Saturday,” she reminded him. “My appointment’s on Monday, after work, unless I don’t ovulate as expected.”
Not that far off, then.
“I called tonight’s meeting. When were you planning to tell me about this?”
Whoa, buddy. You don’t sound like a friendly and supportive ex-husband.
“Before tonight...or last night, now,” she said. “But when you called Wednesday, asking to meet, I figured Friday night was fine.”
He moved on, letting himself slide on the over zealousness of his questioning due to the lateness of the hour and shock of her news.
“I assume, given the circumstances, your ability to conceive, your age and your excellent health that you’re considering either ICI or IUI,” he said, looking at the screen of statistics in front of him. Intracervical insemination. Intrauterine insemination. And there was intravaginal, too.
“Really, Braden? At two in the morning?”
“IVI is cheaper, by far, less invasive and less painful, but chances of conceiving the first time are considerably lower. ICI is still cheaper and less uncomfortable. But IUI has a slightly higher success rate. I think you should go with that. The less raised hopes and disappointment here the better.”
“I’m fully prepared for this to take several months.”
She yawned. And sounded slightly amused, too.
It was two in the morning.
His nearly naked body yearned during the second it took him to remind himself that it was Mallory he was talking to. The woman who had no interest in being a wife once motherhood was in the picture.
Mallory, who’d been unable to feel any desire for him at all since their son died.
Because she felt guilty for how great it had been for her that night.
That was new knowledge that he’d process at some point.
That night had been the best sex of his life, too. He didn’t feel bad about that.
“How about a meet-up sometime this weekend?” he asked.
“Fine.” Another yawn.
“I’m taking the boat out on Sunday,” he told her. “You want to go fishing?”
“I’d rather lie on the deck and soak up some spring sunshine.”
