Alexander moved closer to me and slid his arm under my head. The only sound that filled the tent was that of our shallow breathing as we each aimed to reclaim our breaths. Suddenly aware of the chill in the air, I took a thick, fleece blanket from my duffle bag and placed it across both of our bodies. Alexander’s satin skin was warm against mine as I softly kissed his lips. Still unclothed, we laid in a peaceful silence until we fell asleep.
I awoke to the sound of the crackling fire and the smell of—what was it? Maybe a cross between a diner and a McDonald’s. Reaching onto the fleece blanket beside me, I noticed that Alexander was no longer in the tent. I threw on a t-shirt and shorts, fixed my hair as best I could, and unzipped the door to the outside world.
“Mornin’, sexy,” Alexander said. What a greeting to wake up to. “Hope you like breakfast burritos!”
“I love all sorts of breakfast and all sorts of burritos,” I said with a grin. “So… last night was fun!”
For the first time that morning, Alexander looked up from the fire and into my eyes. “I’ve got to be honest,” he said. Panic took over my thoughts. Great. This was it. He was over me, or over us, or over the baby. I knew everything was too good to be true. “Yesterday was one of the best days I’ve had in a long time.”
“Me too,” I blurted, a wave of relief rushing over me. One of these days I was going to accept that Alexander was actually into me—and into us being together—but it still seemed too soon to get my hopes up.
“Here you go,” Alexander said, handing me a steel camping plate with a neatly-wrapped tortilla on it. “I found the recipe online. It has eggs, cheese, bacon, and peppers.”
I picked up the breakfast burrito and offered Alexander a thankful smile. “This looks great!” My first bite told me otherwise. It was soggy and awful-tasting, and it took every part of me not to spit it out.
“How is it?”
“Alexander, it’s terrible,” I said. He’d been so wonderful to me that I didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but I also didn’t want to have any lies in our relationship.
Alexander shook his head. “Ouch. That stung.” Before I could offer up an apology, he took a bite out of his burrito and immediately spat it onto the ground. “Holy shit! That is terrible! I’m so sorry, Casey!”
“That’s alright,” I giggled. It was good to know that even the most perfect person I’d ever met was human and made mistakes from time to time. “We can stop for breakfast on the way back.”
With that, we got up, put out the fire, and packed up our belongings. Alexander let me help him take down the tent, though I’m fairly certain I actually made it more difficult for him by getting in the way. We spent most of the car ride in silence, but not the kind of silence that meant there was nothing to talk about. It was more of a comfortable silence, the kind when you feel so comfortable around someone that you don’t feel the need to keep the conversation going all the time.
About ten miles outside of Atlanta, we stopped at a rundown diner that looked more like a backyard shed than a business establishment. “This place is the best,” Alexander said. He seemed so excited about it that I threw my doubts out the window and followed him inside.
With three or four booths and half a dozen counter stools, this was, by far, the smallest diner I’d ever been to. After feasting on the “Hungry Folks Special”, which Alexander insisted was the must-have option, I could attest that it was also the best diner I’d ever been to. On the ride back to Alexander’s house, we listened to Prince’s Purple Rain album, a guilty pleasure of mine that Alexander also happened to have in his glove compartment.
Alexander continued to surprise me. He had money—there was no doubt about it—but he lived like an ordinary person. I loved that we could do fancy dinner sometimes and greasy breakfast other times. I loved that he didn’t mind leaving his gorgeous mansion for a tent in the woods from time to time.
So far, Alexander had exceeded all my wildest dreams—so why was I leaving the weekend feeling excited but also uneasy?
Chapter 14
Alexander
As I made my way from the parking lot of Preston Solutions to my office, I engaged in polite chit-chat with several employees and a supplier visiting with our VP of Finance. They could talk about numbers and figures all they wanted, but there was only one thing on my mind. Casey. I had to admit that our lack of communication had taken its toll on me. It had been a week and a half since our camping trip—not that I was counting—and I hadn’t heard from her at all. Not a single phone call or text message.
“Good morning, Mr. Preston,” Rachel, one of the interns said.
“Good morning,” I replied half-heartedly. Could she see that my heart was hurting on the inside? How about the other fifty-two employees at the company?
“I’ll see you at the staff meeting at two o’clock, correct?”
“Yes, sir,” Rachel said. She retreated to her cubicle as I followed the linoleum flooring to my office.
I hated feeling this way. I had never been the kind of guy to pine over a girl or check twenty times a day to see if she’d gotten back to me. I guess I’d become one of those guys. I couldn’t have dreamed up a more perfect camping night than ours, so I wasn’t sure why I was getting the cold shoulder. For the sake of my company, I had to put these feelings aside, at least for now.
I took my seat at my desk and, noticing the green, blinking light on my telephone, played through my messages. I had one voicemail from a client, two from Margie, my secretary, one from my buddy, Brett, and two others from local colleges wanting to set up meetings regarding our spring internship program. I skipped over Brett’s to jot down the information from the other voicemails and left his for last.
“Hey man.” Brett’s always-cheerful voice rang out through my speakerphone. “I have a few hours to kill tonight while the girls are at dance class and thought you might want to grab a beer. Flanagan’s at 7? Let me know!”
I smiled to myself as I thought about Brett, a party animal back in our college days, helping his daughters with their ballet slippers and dropping them off at dance class. Oh, how times had changed. His girls were four and six-years-old and it was still, all these years later, hard to wrap my mind around the fact that Brett was a daddy.
It suddenly occurred to me that Brett might be the perfect person to give me the advice and perspective I needed. After all, he was married with kids—and he’d knocked up his wife with their first kid before they were married. Ok, so it wasn’t exactly the same situation I had with Casey. Still, it was the closest I had to go by, so I texted Brett and told him I’d be there.
“Mr. Preston,” Margie said, knocking on my open door. “You have a meeting with the marketing team in five.”
“Of course,” I replied. I pulled out the bottom-right drawer of my desk and dug through the file folders until I found the one labeled “Marketing- Q3”.
Our marketing team had eight members: a VP of Marketing, two marketing directors, two marketing associates, a graphic designer, a PR specialist, and an intern. Once a quarter, we gathered in a conference room and listened as each person presented their work from the previous quarter. We then spent the second half of the meeting setting goals and target objectives for the next quarter. As luck would have it, the meeting this quarter fell on the day I wanted to be anywhere but the office.
“Good morning, folks,” I said, taking my place at the head of the table. Everyone had been with the company for at least two or three years, with the exception of one of the marketing associates and the intern. They had each only been there a few months, so this was their first quarterly meeting. They were both visibly nervous. I suppose it was intimidating having the CEO sitting in on their meeting, but I liked to think of myself as a cool boss. Maybe that was naïve, but I wasn’t much older than them when I started the company. I’d been in their shoes. I vowed to never be like some of the CEOs I’d worked for during college.
“Good morning,” a few of them mumbled back.
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“I want to thank you for clearing your schedules so that we can meet this morning,” I started. “The goal of this meeting is to come up with clear ideas of what we need to work on or improve over the next quarter. This quarter was the most successful Preston Solutions has ever seen, and I think that it’s in large part due to our increased marketing efforts. Thank you all for all your hard work. With that being said, I’m going to turn this over to our VP of Finance, Mike Alvarez.”
The quarterly meeting lasted a painful four hours. We ordered in pizza so we could work through lunch, listening to presentation after presentation. I hated stuffy meetings, which is why we limited the departmental ones to only four times a year. Other than that, I let my employees decide amongst themselves when and how to meet with one another. I didn’t want my company to be a boring workplace. I checked my phone three times during the meeting, each one resulting in a sting of rejection when I realized Casey hadn’t called or texted.
Once the last slide of Mike’s presentation had been explained, we all rushed toward the door. Katrina, the new marketing associate, looked up at me from her small five-foot frame, as if she were seeking approval.
“Great job, Katrina,” I said. “Keep up the good work.”
A massive smile appeared on Katrina’s face and she said, “Thank you, Mr. Preston.”
Back at my desk, I returned three calls I missed while in the meeting, responded to the requests I’d received via voicemail, and scrolled through the dozens of emails that flooded my inbox. The day dragged on until it was finally time to head home for the night.
I walked into Flanagan’s, an old college favorite, and found Brett sitting on a stool at the bar. In his ball cap and t-shirt, he hadn’t aged a day since we’d graduated from college eight years earlier. “Hey man,” I said, shaking his hand.
“How’s it going, Preston?” Brett replied. Like most college guys, my friend group called everyone by their last name, with the exception of Brett. Brett’s last name was something Ukrainian with lots of syllables, impossible to pronounce. I had to admit that it’d been a while since anyone had called me Preston.
“Good, good,” I said, taking a seat beside him. We spent nearly an hour catching up, talking about my business and Brett’s job as a mechanic. He always had crazy stories to share, mostly ones that involved him overhearing arguments and conversations in the houses he worked at. For the first time, though, he spent most of the time talking about his family. He told me how his wife, Amelia, had started taking night classes to get her master’s degree, so he was working long days and running the kids to their activities.
“I’ve even learned to cook,” Brett said, warranting a laugh from me. “Ok, maybe I’m not a gourmet chef. But I cook a mean grilled cheese, and I can make some of the girls’ favorites. Macaroni and cheese, hotdogs… you name it.”
I smiled. “I must say, it sounds like you’re living the good life.”
“It gets tough,” Brett said, taking a sip of his beer. I was waiting for a second half of this declaration, but it never came. “So, how goes the single life? Any prospects on the horizon?”
“Actually, I have sort of a complicated situation,” I said.
“What are we talking?” Brett asked. “Two hot girls and you don’t know which one to choose? Having an affair with an employee?” He paused. “Both?”
I let out a dry chuckle. “Ok, it’s not sort of complicated. It’s very complicated.”
“Lay it on me,” Brett said.
I gave Brett the abridged version of my relationship with Casey. I had decided earlier in the day that I would tell him that Casey and I met on a one night stand, instead of the clinic situation, but I wanted the outside opinion of someone who knew the whole, honest story. If there was anyone who would be open-minded, it was the guy I’d found passed out and naked in the hallway at least half a dozen times in college.
By the time I was done talking, Brett’s jaw was practically on the bar. He looked around, moving his head from side to side. “Is this some kind of prank?”
“I wish,” I said. “I’m falling for her, man.”
“Wow,” Brett said. “Let me take a minute to soak this all in.”
We took a few swigs of our beers in silence as I wondered what Brett had to say. I knew how crazy everything sounded. Had I told him that? “Brett, I know this whole situation is crazy, but it’s my reality right now.”
“Let me ask you this,” Brett started. “Would you still feel the same way about her if there wasn’t a bun in the oven?”
“Absolutely,” I said, without hesitation. “Honestly, sometimes I get so caught up in how much fun I’m having with her that I forget that she’s carrying my child.” It felt odd to say the words aloud.
Brett sighed and adjusted his seat to have a more direct view of my face. “Just know that settling down and having a child are two of the biggest commitments you can make. Don’t do it unless you’re sure.”
I rambled on about Casey and our relationship before confessing to Brett that I was nervous. Most of my buddies knew me as the easygoing, fearless guy I’d been in college. But, the truth was, the thought of being a father terrified me. I was excited about the prospect, but there was always the fear in the back of my mind that I wouldn’t be any good at it. Brett’s response was that, like anything else in life, it was an adjustment I’d have to make.
“Do you ever regret it?” I said.
Brett shrugged. “Regret what?”
“Settling down? Having kids so young?”
“Well, I’ve traded in ESPN for Nickelodeon and trips to the gym for trips to ballet class,” Brett started. “But when those little girls smile at me, I know everything’s going to be alright. Everything I’ve sacrificed is worth it.” He paused and put his hand on my shoulder, as if he were a father giving his son a good talking-to. “If it helps at all, I’ve never seen you light up this much talking about a girl—even with Allison.”
Allison was the only other girl I had ever even remotely considered settling down with, and I knew the moment those words came out of Brett’s mouth that he was exactly the perspective I’d needed. “Thanks, man,” I said. One other thought was itching to escape my mind. “The only problem is, I haven’t heard from Casey in a few weeks. I’m thinking maybe she’s having second thoughts.”
“Put yourself in her shoes, dude,” Brett said. “She had this guy who agreed to knock her up, then she started dating him, she started falling for him, and now she’s confused. She probably just needs reassurance that you’re serious about her and the baby.” For a guy who had never even heard of Casey before today, I was amazed by how spot-on Brett’s advice was. I said goodbye to him, made plans to visit soon, and started brainstorming my next move.
Chapter 15
Casey
As my phone buzzed on my worn-down nightstand, I looked over at the clock that stood beside it. 5:36 AM. Who would be texting or calling this early? I wiped sleep from my eyes, picked up my phone and focused my vision. Babies are coming! Greg’s taking me to Emory. Come when you can!
It was Liana. Once I’d had a second to digest the fact that the twins were about to make their way into the world, I scurried around my apartment like a lost animal. I threw on a pair of jeans and a sweater and tied my messy waves into a knot on top of my head. I was in such disarray that I opened the door to leave before realizing I was barefoot. I ran back across the apartment, tugged some socks and boots on, and headed to the hospital.
This was the distraction I’d been needing to get my mind off Alexander. I had to focus on my own life, on my baby, and, for today, on Liana. There were two turns between me and Emory University Hospital when an overwhelming feeling of nausea came over me. It was debilitating, one of the worst bouts of nausea I’d ever had in my life. “Uh oh. I’m not gonna make it,” I whispered aloud.
I pulled over into a convenience store parking lot and made it to the trash can just in time to vomit. Tears filling my eyes, I only made i
t halfway back to my car before round two struck. Why had no one told me how terrible morning sickness was? All of the mothers-to-be I’d known as friends or seen at the clinic made pregnancy out to be this wonderful, glamorous experience. I felt like shit.
Taking small sips of water, I drove 10 miles under the speed limit the rest of the way, as if this would somehow also slow down my nausea. I navigated the confusing hospital campus, settling for a spot on the first floor of a parking garage. As I walked toward the emergency room, I realized that I had no clue what the hell I was doing there. Chances were, Liana didn’t want me in the delivery room—and that was fine by me. I supposed I was there for moral support.
And where was I supposed to go? It occurred to me that I didn’t know the first thing about being a mother, or delivering a baby. Would Liana be in the emergency room to give birth? Or was that what maternity wards were for? All of these thoughts shuffled around in my mind as I asked one uninterested hospital employee after another for directions. I finally breathed a sigh of relief when I saw Jane, a mutual friend from college, sitting in an uncomfortable-looking chair in one of the waiting areas. Liana was much closer with Jane than I was, but she was still a huge step up from the nurse who yelled at me to get out of her way.
“Casey!” Jane exclaimed, jumping from her chair. She was far too chipper for this early in the morning. As she walked toward me, her eyes drifted toward my stomach. “Oh my god! You too?! Awwww!” She gave me a hug and pulled me to sit in the seat beside hers.
“What’s the latest on Liana?” I asked, hoping she would accept my attempt at changing the subject away from myself.
“Greg’s back there with her now,” Jane said. “She’s six centimeters dilated, so they’re keeping her back there until those babies come out!”
I mustered up a desperate smile. “That’s great!”
“So, tell me about whoever made this happen,” Jane said, putting her hands on my stomach. I gently pulled away as I gave her a vague response about it being a guy I was dating who I’d met at work. Today was supposed to be Liana’s day, as well as a much-needed distraction from my current situation.
Her Baby Donor: He's doing her the old-fashioned way. Page 7