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“It’s called being a responsible parent and minivans have a lot of cool gadgets that make yer life easier gettin’ kids in and out of the car. Lots of cargo space for work.”
“Hmm, I’ll agree to disagree. You know, Connor, there’s never a ‘right time’ to have a baby, but I think if any two gay men can do it, you and I can. My clock is ticking.”
I bark out a laugh. “Yer clock is tickin’? I hate to break it to ye, babe, but ye done have a clock. Men can have babies into their seventies. Hell, probably in their eighties if they can still get it up.”
“I’m not going to be like David Foster having kids in my seventies. I’m serious, Connor. We’re not getting any younger. If we wait too long, we’re going to be past our prime and no adoption agency will consider us.”
I glance over at TJ as I pull out of the parking lot and notice his taut jaw. “Yer serious about this?”
“Deadly.”
“So, what do ye propose? How do we go about having one of our own?”
TJ squeals, giddily clapping his hands, swiveling his body to face me. “Oh my god, for real? Does that mean we can start? Because I’ve already researched surrogates and adoption lawyers—”
I gently lay a hand on his thigh and squeeze, trying to keep my eyes on the road and calm him down. “No, we’re discussin’ it, is what we’re doin’. I’m only askin’ questions.”
TJ reaches down into his bag and pulls out a binder. “We can go through a private lawyer or go through an adoption agency. Another alternative is fostering a child to see if they are a good fit for us, or we can use a surrogate. Penny is my favorite. She seems like a real go-getter, although between you and me, I think she’s going to be going through the change soon. Poor thing. She’s like thirty-five, so it’s a risk, but if she’s willing…”
“Whoa, whoa, wait a damn minute. Who’s Penny?”
TJ stabs his finger at the eight-by-ten glossy of a redhead, smiling and waving as she rollerblades in a bikini somewhere with palm trees. “This is Penny. Isn’t she fab? I love that she’s a rollerblader.”
“Mary, Jesus, and Joseph, I can’t believe we’re doin’ this.” I shake my head and grip the steering wheel while I try to wrap my brain around everything that is spewing out of TJ’s mouth. “Who will be the donor egg and sperm?”
“I don’t know, but we can pick out someone that will match our lifestyle and personalities. Obviously, she’ll have to have a flair for fashion and be smart. Maybe red hair to match your Irish heritage and my hair? I think we should use your little swimmer.”
“My little swimmer?”
“You know what this means?”
I cast a look at him, dread filling my belly. “We’re not throwin’ a party.”
“No, silly, not yet, at least. We’ll have to haveNashville Nextfollow us while we choose a donor. Do you care if they film you at the sperm bank? I mean, not actually watch you spank one off, but film you going in and doing the paperwork. If that’s the course of action we choose to take, of course.” TJ squirms in his seat, texting on his phone.
“Hold up. What isNashville Next?”
“Oh, didn’t I tell you? I swear I did, babe,” he says distractedly, rummaging through his bag. “They’re making a documentary of our journey.”
“What do ye mean, ‘documentary’? And what journey?”
“Uncle Connor? I’m hungry!” Chase whines from the third-row seat.
“Okay, we’re almost there, buddy,” I say.
“But I’m hungry now!”
TJ turns around. “We’ll grab something at home. Two shakes and we’ll be there.”
“But you promised we could play on the McDonald’s playground! I want French fries!”
“I did no such thing, mister. You know Uncle TJ refuses to go into McDonald’s. The guy with the red hair is scary and all those germs on everything? No way, Jose. You should eat something healthy anyway, like tofu.”
“Who’s Jose?” Alexis asks.
“But I don’t want tofe-froo! I’m hungry now!”
“And I don’t want to see their creepy mascot clown, but you don’t hear me whining about it,” TJ snaps back.
