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I nod.
“Dry mouth?”
I nod again.
“Racing pulse, butterflies in your stomach?”
“All of the above.”
Amada pats my shoulders. “Then my diagnosis is you’re not over your high school sweetheart.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I say. “She came in for an IVF check-up, which means she’s starting a family with someone.”
“What’s her name?”
“Marissa Mayer, why?”
“Your ex is in our vitamin D trial,” Amada says, jumping up from the floor. “You have her file?”
“On my desk. Why?”
She leafs through the various documents in the folder and lets out a satisfied, “Aha!”
“Aha, what?”
Amada stands next to me, pointing to the medical records. “Her file states she’s requested a sperm donor and there’s no partner listed in the psychological support sessions or anywhere else, which means she’s going at this solo.”
“What?”
“Your ex is single,” Amada spells out for me. “In fact, so single that she’s having a baby alone. How old are you, Doc?”
“Thirty-four.”
“She must’ve decided she wanted to have a baby before her fertility tanked or before she found a decent baby daddy. Fierce, I like her. Bottom line is, she’s single, boss.”
I take a minute to assimilate the information. I stare at my research associate, who is now perched on the edge of my desk.
Amada nudges my shoulder with her knee. “You want her, right?”
“When did you become this chatty?”
“I’m a sucker for second-chance romances.”
“Sorry to disappoint.” I get up from the floor, still marveling at Amada’s brazenness. “She hates me.”
“Make her un-hate you.”
I shake my head. “She’ll never forgive me.”
“Why not?”
“I hurt her.”
“You were a kid.”
“I was a teenager,” I correct her. “I was eighteen. I ruined her life in one night.”
“Well, the least you could do is apologize for whatever you did.”
