Her Baby Donor: He's doing her the old-fashioned way.

by Chance Carter

  The relief I felt from talking to—or at—Casey’s mom’s grave was surprising to me. I had never felt closer to Casey or her past. I knew that I probably looked silly sitting here, but that didn’t matter to me. Casey mattered, and understanding her past was an important part of understanding her. I held up my pointer finger to Casey, as if to say, “One more minute.”

  “Anyway, before I go, I just wanted to ask you for something,” I said. “I’m hoping you can send Casey some confidence and courage. I know she’s going to be an amazing mother. I can tell from how kind and caring she is, and how she lights up when she talks about this baby. I just want her to see that. Miss Donohue, I promise that I’m going to take care of your little girl and your grandchild. I’m going to love them both for as long as they let me. Thank you for raising the woman of my dreams.”

  I placed a pebble on Joanna’s grave and wiped the dirt from my pants as I stood up. Silently, I walked over to Casey. She reached in for a hug and held on like her life depended on it. When she finally let go, I intertwined my fingers with hers, and we started our walk back to the car together.

  Chapter 19

  Casey

  I was in love with the man behind the steering wheel. The realization had hit me slowly, slowly, then all at once. Here I was, sitting next to the most wonderful man I could imagine, and I was carrying his child and falling in love with him. My world had done a complete 180-degree turn over the past five and a half months. A few weeks earlier, I had thought that nothing would come of this whole dating thing, but Alexander had proven me to be wrong. I’d never been so happy to be wrong.

  As if going to see his family wasn’t enough of a step forward, we had also gone to see what little part of my family there was. I think what sealed the deal for me was Alexander’s actions at the cemetery. He took the time to introduce himself to my mother and tell her how much he cared about me. I wasn’t sure what else he said, but that was enough for me. It meant everything. No man had ever made such a grand and powerful gesture on my behalf. No man had ever cared about the woman who had raised me for the first decade of my life.

  I peeked over at Alexander from the corner of my eye as he watched the road intently. I still wondered quite often how I landed a man like him. Every bit of him was perfect, every single part of his body and being. I started with his eyes. Those eyes of his had seen it all in the months since we’d met, and it hadn’t scared him away. He had watched as I broke down telling him about my childhood, holding onto every word I said. He had seen—and adored—the naked body I was often self-conscious about. With those eyes, he had seen my tiny apartment, and it didn’t matter to him. It didn’t matter to him that my entire apartment could fit inside his bedroom, or that I sometimes left dishes in the kitchen sink. He didn’t care that at least half of the furniture in my apartment was secondhand. I was able to see it in his eyes the first time he came to my apartment. It didn’t matter to him. His perfect eyes had a way of making me feel better, of telling me that everything was going to be alright.

  I moved my eyes to Alexander’s hands. The hands that gripped the steering wheel were some of the strongest, most gentle hands I’d ever known. They were the hands that made their way up and down my back the first time we made love. When I’d thrown out my back a few days after Alexander’s grand proclamation, those hands massaged me until I felt better. Those were the hands that held me when I cried and carried grocery bags up the stairs for me.

  Alexander’s fingers were both rough and tender, depending on the situation. I could feel them within me, deep and wild, pleasuring me as only he could. I could see them brushing tears away from my eyes or making their way over my lips to tell me nothing more needed to be said. On his right ring finger laid an old, bronze ring, a gift from his grandfather before he passed away. Those fingers were perfect. I could hear them tapping on my end table when Alexander wanted me to decide where to order takeout from, but I didn’t mind.

  That smile. If all of Alexander’s money disappeared, and he lost his job, and he had to get rid of his fancy house and car, that smile would be enough to get me by. It was calming and exciting and welcoming and sexy, all at the same time. Waking up to those pearly whites brought new meaning to my life. I could see Alexander smiling at Lotus on our first date as I tried not to get chicken stuck in my teeth. I could see that winning grin as I took my clothes off by the lake on our camping trip. His teeth weren’t perfectly white or straight— though they were pretty damn close—but they came together to create a force of their own.

  As Alexander looked in his rearview mirror, I caught a glimpse of his dimples. I never understood why girls said they found dimples attractive on a man until I met Alexander. They gave away what he was feeling, whether it was happiness or nervousness or sadness. This beautiful man’s dimples had their own language, one I had a feeling that I was just beginning to understand.

  Those strong legs of Alexander’s weren’t in my direct line of vision, cramped beneath the steering wheel, but I daydreamed about them anyway. Courtesy of weight machines and bleacher workouts, those legs were toned and strong beyond belief. They were the legs that helped Alexander hog the blanket on the nights he slept over. Those legs had walked up and down the stairs to my apartment countless times so I didn’t have to put extra stress on me or the baby. They were the legs I knew would run miles for me if I needed them to.

  Alexander’s body said all this, but what did mine say? I looked down, my pregnant belly blocking everything beneath it from my line of vision. The belly. I wondered how the baby factored into all of this. I was falling for Alexander, and I was certain that I would feel the same way even if I weren’t pregnant with his child. I’d been infatuated with him for months before we’d even said a word to one another. But there was no denying that the baby changed things. Alexander had said a few times that he wanted us to be a family, but I couldn’t help but wonder if he knew exactly what he was committing to. After all, I was still learning about all the things I’d committed to when I decided to start a family. We learned about another facet of parenting every day, most of them not-so-pleasant. Sure, our relationship was great now, but things would change when the baby came. We’d have to sacrifice sleep and sex for diapers and bottles. It would be a big adjustment. The most beautiful eyes couldn’t magically fix that.

  A small part of me wondered if I was kidding myself going on this trip, the same small part that told me this relationship was doomed to fail. I tried with all my might to push that part out of my mind, but it was easier said than done. Casey, we’re past that, I told myself. We’ve established that Alexander cares about you and wants to raise this child with you, so why won’t you just let yourself be happy? This was the part of me I wanted to listen to.

  I had spent far too long second-guessing everything when I knew in my heart that Alexander and I had something special. I supposed it was my nature, growing up with disappointment after disappointment. I so desperately wanted to come to terms with the concept that there was a good chance Alexander would never disappoint me. After all, his track record was stellar so far. The fact of the matter was, I was here, Alexander was here, and our feelings for each other were here.

  I thought back to our earlier conversation during the little questionnaire we’d done. Alexander had talked about Allison, his first love, but I never revealed mine. When we had seen the sign to Tallahassee, we’d changed our focus. I hadn’t thought about the question again until this very moment, and I knew I owed Alexander an answer. I owed myself an answer.

  “It’s you,” I blurted. Alexander’s look of confusion reminded me that my thoughts had been in my head and he had no clue what I was referring to. “Remember earlier when we were talking about our first loves?”

  Alexander nodded. “What about it?”

  “Mine is you,” I said.

  Alexander took his eyes off the road and moved them all over me. “What are you talking about?”

  “I had a few casual boyfriends in my
college years, but I was never in love with any of them,” I said. “I’m in love with you. I love you, Alexander. And I know that it sounds crazy, and that our relationship is still kind of new, but I love you.” I took in a deep breath to restore the oxygen supply that I’d lost during my rambling.

  “Casey,” Alexander started, his beautiful eyes staring into mine. “I love you, too.”

  It was a relief to have that out in the open, at least to one another. I had been so afraid of accidentally blurting those words, ever since Alexander had come to my apartment with his declaration that he wanted to be with me. Now, I was able to say them on my own terms, when I actually meant them. “You do?” I whispered, years of needing affirmation creeping up on me.

  Alexander smiled. “Of course I do. I love you, and I love our baby. It doesn’t matter how long we’ve been dating. When you know, you know.”

  He took the words right out of my mouth. I loved him. I was in love. He loved me back. More than that, he loved this baby I was carrying. He could have just as easily ignored the baby when telling me he loved me, but he chose to acknowledge that this baby was a part of our love. I was still processing it all, but it felt as though a huge weight had just been lifted.

  Alexander’s words echoed in my head over and over again. “I love you. I love you. I love you.” It sounded so wonderful coming from his lips. I still couldn’t quite believe we had gotten to this point. I couldn’t remember the last time I felt this way, but I was fairly certain it was never. Never had I felt such butterflies in my stomach staring into someone’s eyes. Not since my mother died had I ever felt so safe in someone’s arms. We were in love. I just hoped his family loved me too.

  Chapter 20

  Alexander

  With the exception of some faded mauve paint on the window shutters, my childhood home looked exactly the same as it had at last year’s Christmas visit, and every year before that. I looked over at Casey, who seemed to be enamored by the surplus of Christmas decorations and figures that covered the front lawn. My parents were the only ones on the block with more than a single strand of Christmas lights. “This is it,” she said. “The childhood home of the Alexander Preston.”

  I laughed and gave her a quick kiss before turning off the ignition. I was nervous about Casey meeting my family, not because I worried they wouldn’t like her, but because I was worried she wouldn’t like them. They were, well, interesting—but they always meant well. I took Casey’s hand and led her up the walkway.

  “Are we staying here?” Casey asked.

  “We’re actually calling the Sheraton home tonight,” I said with a smile. “They turned my old bedroom into an office four or five years ago.” I squeezed Casey’s hand, as if to say “Here goes nothing”, and rang the doorbell. “No matter how this goes, remember that I love you.”

  “Alex!” my mother screeched as she met us in the doorway. “My boy is home!”

  I knew what was coming. “Alex?” Casey whispered, nudging me.

  “Only my mother calls me that,” I said quietly between grated teeth. “I’m not a fan.” Casey giggled as my mother wrapped me in a tight embrace. I stepped back and put out a hand toward Casey. “Mom, this is Casey.”

  “Oh, my darling, it’s so great to meet you,” my mother said, pulling Casey in for a hug. “Alex here never brings his lady friends around, so you must be something special. Come on in! I’m Lynn, by the way.”

  I wasn’t sure who was blushing harder—Casey or myself—but we obliged and followed my mother into the family room. Casey’s bump was covered by an oversized sweater and strategically-placed scarf, and, after seeing how crazy my mother was behaving meeting a girlfriend of mine, I knew we’d made the right decision to make one revelation at a time.

  My sister, Emily, and knucklehead brothers, Connor and Patrick, were seated next to my father on the sofa. I took Casey around the room and introduced her to each of them. If she was overwhelmed, she was doing a great job of hiding it. She seemed genuinely excited to meet them.

  “Marc Preston,” my father said, reaching out his hand to shake Casey’s. “Nice to meet you.”

  God, I wanted this to go well. Though I admittedly didn’t see my family as often as I’d like, we were what most would consider to be a close-knit family. I knew they had no reason not to like Casey, but that didn’t do anything to take the nerves way.

  “It’s so great to meet you,” Casey said, with notes of sincerity in her voice. “I’ve heard so many great things about you!”

  That was all it took to start things off on a positive note. Mom sent us all over into the dining room for coffee and snacks, and Casey excused herself and went down the hallway to use the bathroom. This was my chance to talk to my family alone, quite possibly one of the only chances I’d get all visit. “Guys, listen up,” I said gruffly but quietly.

  “What is it?” Emily asked, rolling her eyes.

  My mom and dad moved closer, and my brothers and sister followed suit. They all, with the exception of Emily, looked as if they were expecting a big reveal. “Please just be nice to Casey,” I said. “Take it easy on her.”

  “Of course we will, sweetheart,” Mom said. “She seems like a sweet girl.”

  I nodded. “She is.”

  “Is that all?” Dad asked.

  “Well…umm…” I started. I didn’t know how long Casey would be in the bathroom, and I didn’t want to drop too big of a bomb on them at once. “I think she might be the one.”

  “Oh my gosh!” Mom squealed. “I had no idea things were so serious.”

  The sound of the bathroom door opening told me it was time to end the conversation and create an appearance of normalcy. “Well, they are,” I whispered. We all sat down at the table, joined by Casey, as my mom carried plate after plate of fancy-looking desserts to the table.

  “I thought you said we were just having a few small snacks, Lynn,” my dad said.

  “We are,” Mom replied. We all burst out laughing as we looked at the extensive spread she had put out. Just in my line of vision were miniature cheesecakes, chocolate-covered strawberries, and banana bread. I couldn’t begin to imagine what was lurking on the other end of the table.

  As we passed around the plates of food and pitchers of coffee, I paid careful attention to Casey. I wanted to learn every part of her, including her dessert and coffee habits. She took her coffee decaffeinated and black and opted for all things chocolate—the chocolate berries, a chocolate chip cookie, homemade chocolate fudge. I, on the other hand, liked my coffee loaded with cream and sweetener, and settled on banana bread and strawberry shortcake. Opposites attract, I told myself.

  In between bites of dessert, I listened intently as my siblings caught me up on their lives. Emily told stories about her medical rotations that made me want to stay far away from the hospital, but also that made me immensely proud of my sister. She’d been interested in the medical profession since she was five years old, playing pretend doctor with her dolls. It was crazy to think that she was just months away from becoming a real, certified doctor.

  “How’s the school year treating you?” I asked Connor when Emily was done her update.

  “I have a great group of kids this year,” Connor said. He launched into a rant about how they had made some last-minute changes in the curriculum for the year that made things more difficult for him and listed a bunch of historical terms that didn’t sound even remotely familiar to me. Connor was brilliant, and his students were lucky to have him as a teacher. He was one of those people who genuinely cared about the topic he taught—and who actually liked going to museums. Connor could spend hours talking about any war, or historical figure, or time period in history like it was no big deal.

  Casey cleared her throat to speak. “One of my co-workers told me about a new Revolutionary War exhibit that opened over in St. Petersburg,” she said. “She visited while she was on vacation. Have you had a chance to check it out yet?”

  If only Casey knew how many brownie
points that question just earned her with Connor. He loved finding new people to talk about history with—or, rather, people who were willing to listen to him talk about history. “Opening day,” Connor beamed. “It was incredible. So many cool artifacts and unique perspectives. They even had an entire exhibit dedicated to Revolutionary War-era artwork.”

  “That sounds awesome,” Casey said. If she didn’t mean it, she was doing a good job of faking it. “I don’t suppose I can get your brother to stop with me on the way back to Atlanta.”

  She said it in a joking manner, and it was a good thing, because my entire family responded in the form of laughter. History was not my forte, nor were museums. Once we had finally moved on from the Revolutionary War exhibit, I anxiously awaited Patrick’s updates. I couldn’t remember the last time he’d held the same job between two of my visits, and I was curious to see if the trend continued.

  “I have a new job,” Patrick said. I wasn’t surprised in the least. However, I was surprised to learn that he had landed a stable office job and had been there for nearly four months. “I love it. I mostly do data entry stuff, but I feel like I’m really doing something meaningful, more than selling shoes or scooping ice cream.”

  I had to admit that I was relieved. As the eldest brother, I felt a sense of responsibility for my siblings. I wanted them all to succeed. I had offered Patrick a job at my company more than once, but he didn’t want to move up to Atlanta. It was good to hear that he was doing well, and even better that he had gotten his act together in time for Casey to think my family was normal.