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I feel like someone has poured a bucket of ice-cold water on me. “She wants to keep the baby?”
Jace nods, misery drawn on his face. It’s nothing compared to what I feel. Because of somebody’s fuck up, now I’m going to be a father. A reluctant father.
“Did you tell her that she’ll never find out the identity of her baby’s father?”
“She was told. It doesn’t seem to matter to her,” he says.
“What do you know about her?” I ask Jace.
“Her name is Ivy Martin, and she’s a struggling writer. We’re sure her motive for agreeing to be a surrogate mom was money. What we don’t get is why she would choose to go ahead with this pregnancy knowing she won’t get paid for it.”
“Maybe the couple who contracted her will adopt this baby,” I say. A bad feeling comes over me. I don’t like the thought of a child of mine being tossed around for money.
“Possibly,” Jace says.
“The best solution is a termination. She has to agree to it.” I don’t like the idea of having a child out there. What if she found out that I was the father of her child one day? No matter how careful we are, information leaks out. If she knew who I was, she would exploit me out of every penny I have. One way or another, Ivy Martin has to agree to a termination. If it takes money to convince her, then so be it.
“You’re welcome to try and convince her,” Jace says.
“I will.”
He looks surprised, but he can’t be because he removes a slip of paper from the pocket of his suit jacket and slides it across my desk. It has Ivy Martin’s details, including her phone number and address. This one requires a one-on-one visit. The phone will not do.
“I thought you’d do this, but before you contact her, think about it. She’ll never know you’re the father. Let it go. Forget this happened.”
“I can’t. It’s already happened. Besides, we’re talking about a child. My child.”
Jace nods. “I knew you’d say that, but I had to try.”
We leave my office together, and Jace walks me to the parking lot. “Good luck.”
“Thanks.” I’m not too worried that Ivy Martin will turn down my offer. Very few people can turn down the offer of money. A lot of money. I like that she’s a struggling writer. That will make it easier for her to say yes.
I input her address into my car GPS and gun the car out of the parking lot. I’m tense as I drive. How much should I tell her? If I tell her that I’m the man whose sperm she’s carrying, will that make her greed go up a notch?
The fact that she entered a deal to carry a baby and get paid in return tells me a lot about Ivy Martin even before I meet her. One, she’s lazy and likes easy money. That works both ways for me. It makes it easier to convince her to get a termination, but it also leaves the clinic and me open to blackmail.
My cell phone rings. “Hello,” I answer through the in-car microphone.
“Alec, it’s me, Dylan,” my youngest brother says. “Jace has told me what’s going on. Are you sure it’s a good idea to go and see her?”
Fucking Jace has to tell everyone.
“Nothing is good about this,” I say curtly. “Do you have a better plan?” I’m tired of my brothers criticizing my plans but not coming up with a better one.
“For one, I’d have gone with you,” Dylan says. “And maybe on the way, I’d have convinced you that you’re not the first man to have a baby walking around in the world with no idea who the father is. You won’t be the first or the last. Think of yourself as a donor if it makes you feel better.”
“It doesn’t,” I snap.
“Alright,” Dylan says. “Let me know how it goes. And be careful, okay?”
I know that Dylan is talking about the clinic’s reputation when he says to be careful. We’ve lived our whole lives guarding the reputation of the clinic. My parents shed blood and tears working to get it to where it is today. The Anderson fertility clinic is the most well-known fertility clinic in the country. We’ve never had any scandal since its inception two decades ago. It irks me to think what a mistake like this one could do to our good name.
Jace’s way is to handle it as discreetly as possible. I’m so angry, and I want to see someone pay for that mistake. But that also puts us at risk of exposure. Jace’s way is the best, but it still leaves me stewing. I’d tried to get him to point fingers, but he insisted that he had dealt with it.
I notice that I’ve headed to one of the city’s poorer neighborhoods. I shouldn’t be surprised by where Ivy Martin lives. It matches everything I’ve learned about her. The houses are tightly packed together like tinned sardines, and there are children playing too close to the dangerous road. I slow down considerably. I’m only a few minutes away from her house, and I still haven’t figured out what to say.
Too late. My navigation system announces that I’ve reached my destination. I slow the car to a crawl. There’s a couple seated on the steps of the small patio in front of the address Jace gave me. I wish I’d asked for a picture of Ivy Martin.
