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She waves her hands around, figuring out where to start. “When my ex-husband and I tried for Izzy and Hunter, I got pregnant right away. But with Will, we’ve been trying for a few months, and nothing’s happened. I’m wondering if we need an intervention.”
“A few months isn’t long. Just give it time.”
“I will, but I’m thirty-five. I don’t think it hurts to get checked out by a specialist. Who did you use to have Ainsley?”
“I went to my OB/GYN. The same one you use.”
She lowers her voice even more. “I mean, for the …insemination. Didn’t you have to go to a fertility center?”
This is where my life gets murky.
I’ve never actually told anyone I used medical advancements to have my child. I simply allowed them to believe it. The details of why are convoluted at best, yet it was what needed to be done.
“Melissa, I didn’t go to a fertility center to have Ainsley.”
Her mouth frowns in confusion. “I thought you had a sperm donor.”
“I did. Tara likes to refer to him as Bobo the Sperm Guy. I really hate that term, but she’s a force to be reckoned with when you try to reprimand that woman, so I just let her say what she wants.”
“If you didn’t go to a sperm bank, where did you get the sperm?”
“From a man,” I answer slowly. It’s not that I’m keeping information from her. I’ve just gotten so used to not having to explain it to anyone.
“I think I’m following. Do you know who this man is?”
“I do.”
“Does he know he has a daughter?”
“He does now.”
Her eyes bulge out of her head as she stares at me for a minute and starts to put the pieces together. Melissa is a highly intelligent woman. An emotional wreck at times, but she knows how to read the writing on the wall. This writing seems to be blaring at her in neon lights.
“Holy shit!” she says way too loud, causing Will, Hunter, and Ainsley to stop what they’re doing and look our way. “Sorry. Just got a little excited.”
Melissa lowers her head back down and talks in her lowest tone again. “Jillian …” She swallows as she tries to digest the information. “Are you saying that Luke, the guy who came to our office the other day is”—she glances up and looks at the kids now playing and not paying attention—“Bobo the Sperm Guy?”
My palms feel clammy as I run them through my hair and state with an air of nonchalance, “Yes. Luke gave up his chance to be in her life years ago, but appears to now want to be … in her life.”
“Does she know? Have they met?”
“They have met. Twice. But she doesn’t know. She just thinks he’s a cool firefighter who likes to play games with her.”
“A smoking-hot fireman,” she says as she rises and places a hand on her hip. “Come on. I can say it. Dark hair and light eyes are my kryptonite. You picked a good one to procreate with.”
My hand rises to nudge her because she is entirely too loud for this conversation even though she’s speaking just above a whisper.
“Please keep this between us. It’s no one’s business how my child came to be, and the condescending stares from my parents are bad enough.”
Her shoulders drop as she looks at me with a tilted head and sad puppy-dog eyes. There’s a nod of complete understanding as she bends down to the counter and grabs my hands.
“I get it. You and I haven’t been friends that long, but it’s been long enough for me to know that it was easier for you to explain to your judgmental parents that you chose to have a child on your own than to tell them you got pregnant by some guy who walked away.”
Her accurate description of my life events is jarring.
“Didn’t know you paid such close attention.”
“You also value privacy and don’t care for town gossip or whispers at parties. Being part of that nonsensical fuss would be painful for you. Jillian, you’re one of my best friends. You and Tara are my yin and yang. You and I haven’t been friends as long as Tara and I have, but our bond is just as strong. You’re an amazing mother and a pillar of strength. It’s okay if you want to be vulnerable with me. I’m here for it.”
