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“I’m doing this. I’m supposed to call them Monday and let them know which donor I pick. Then, they start the artificial incrimination during my next ovulation.”
“Artificial incrimination? How much have you had to drink?” Dean asks before bursting out laughing.
“Po-tay-to po-tah-to. Insemination. Anywayyyyy,” I continue, drawing out the word. “They’ll use the healthy sperm and inject them into my ready and waiting womb. If all goes as planned, I’ll be as good as knocked up by first of the year.”
Silence surrounds me, but when I glance up, it’s not the faces of my family that I see. It’s Linkin, and he looks…pissed. What the hell did I do now?
“It’s that simple?” Meghan asks.
“Yep,” I reply, chugging the rest of my beer. “We should do a shot to celebrate! Won’t be long and I won’t be able to drink for a while.” But the bartender makes no moves for the tequila.
“I’m heading home. I’m exhausted, drunk, and ready to take advantage of my boyfriend,” Payton says, sending Dean a sly wink.
“Your boyfriend approves of this plan wholeheartedly,” he replies, tossing a few bills on the bar for Linkin. “Anyone need a ride?”
“Me, if you don’t mind,” Meghan says, pulling a few bucks from her pocket before sticking them under her empty beer mug on the bar.
“Me, too. I’m not far from you guys,” AJ adds, setting down her glass. “Plus, at least if I ride with you two, I don’t have to worry about witnessing the road-head.” We all glance at Jaime who’s not even blushing.
“I’d totally wait until you were out of the car, Alison.” Jaime punctuates her sentence by sticking out her tongue.
“We’re out too. Lex, you ready?” Abby asks, gathering up her jacket and her boyfriend.
“Naw, you two go. I’m gonna stay til close,” I say, throwing another five on the bar and sliding my beer mug towards the hottie behind the counter.
“Are you sure?” she asks, glancing over at Linkin.
“I got her. I’ll make sure she’s home safe,” he confirms to my twin.
Abby wraps her arms around me and squeezes. “You’re taking control of your life, and I’m so proud of you,” she says, pressing her lips to my cheek.
“Love you,” I tell her.
“Love you too, Lexi Lou,” she says in a singsong voice, a wide smirk spreading across her face. In return, I stick out my tongue and make a very mature, grown-up face, complete with wrinkled nose and duck lips.
When they’re gone, I realize I’m alone. With Linkin. And he’s staring at me from across the bar. “What?”
Instead of answering with words, he shakes his head and turns to fill up my mug. I watch as he busies himself cleaning dirty glasses, emptying garbage, refilling coolers, and picking up chairs. He moves easily, gracefully even considering his size, as he works, chatting with the other two customers who remain.
I feel myself really relax for the first time. I’ve been up in arms about my appointment today, worried that I’m rushing into a decision that will impact, not only myself, but a child for the rest of his or her life. But the fact still remains: I want a baby. I’ve always wanted one, but the older I get, the more I yearn and long for one of my own. I have no plans of getting remarried anytime soon, nor is dating on the horizon, so why not just take matters into my own hands? Or in the hands of the experts who are going to inject the lucky sperm donor’s man juice into my body.
Easy peasy lemon squeezy with vodka and a twist of lime.
Linkin walks the gentlemen to the door, locking it firmly behind them. It’s one in the morning and time to head home. I’ve never seen this side of the business, though I’ve closed down a few bars in my day. Never have I remained inside the establishment after the doors are locked and the neon beer signs turned off. It’s kinda creepy, if you ask me. For some place that was alive and bursting with energy just a short time ago, it looks so sad and lonely now.
I’m well past pleasantly buzzed and leaning more on the side of going to throw up in the morning. My head feels heavy and my brain muddled with slow motion thoughts as I look around the room and zero in on the man who makes my pulse quicken and my body hum. He’s bending over, collecting a little trash that was discarded on the floor. His ass looks amazing in his jeans, accented by a tight black tee and a pair of well-worn combat boots. His colorful ink is on full display, making me want to lick each and every tattoo on his body.
“You okay?” he asks, walking up to me with a towel over his shoulder.
His lips are full and his eyes are dilated as he scans my face. His entire body seems tense, which makes the muscles in his neck bulge. And speaking of bulges, the one in his pants is growing larger as we speak. Licking my lips hungrily, I return my gaze to his face, suddenly wishing he would throw me down on top of the bar and have his wicked way with me.
Yes, please!
“Are you-” he starts, but is cut off by my lips.
I practically leap into his arms, plastering my body to his, and mold my lips to his own. Linkin hesitates, but only for a second. His arms are around me, holding me steady, as his mouth devours mine in a bruising, take-no-prisoners kiss. I grasp his shirt, pulling it from within the waist of his jeans. When my fingers connect with his warm stomach, I groan, loving the way his body feels beneath my fingertips.
“Lexi,” he mumbles without removing his lips from my own.
