The Best Laid Plans

by Sarah Mayberry

  He only had to wait for ten minutes before his brother emerged from his house and started doing his pre-run stretches on the front lawn. Derek glanced over his shoulder at the sound of the car door closing and stilled for a split second when he saw who it was. Then he straightened and crossed the road to join Ethan.

  “What’s going on?” he asked. His breath was visible in the cold morning air.

  “Relax. It’s not an emergency. I wanted to run something by you.”

  Derek scanned his face then obviously decided to take Ethan at his word. “Okay. Can you do it while we run?”

  “If you think you can keep up.”

  Derek smiled. “Try me.”

  They ran in silence for a few minutes, neither of them pushing the other. Finally Derek stopped, forcing Ethan to stop, too.

  “You gonna spill or what? The suspense is killing me.”

  Ethan eyed his brother. Then he stared down at the toes of his sneakers. After a long beat he met his brother’s eyes again.

  “First up, I want you to understand something. I know we joke about it a lot and I let you nag me, but I’m never going to get married again. Period.”

  Derek frowned and Ethan could see he was about to launch into the same-old “you don’t know what might happen in the future, don’t close yourself off to possibility” speech.

  “This isn’t a stage I’m going through, it’s not something that’s going to change, and I need you to accept that. Okay?”

  Derek’s focus shifted down the road, his hands on his hips. Then he shrugged and looked at Ethan. “It’s your life.”

  “Yeah, it is. Which brings me to my next question.” He took a deep breath. He knew his brother was going to have strong feelings about what he was about to suggest, but he needed a sounding board before he made any irrevocable decisions or commitments.

  “I’m thinking of offering to become a sperm donor for a friend,” he said.

  Derek opened his mouth. Then he closed it again without saying anything.

  Fair enough. Ethan was aware that he was hitting his brother with this out of the blue.

  “She’s a friend. She’s worried she’s running out of time and she hasn’t met anyone. She doesn’t want to miss out. She’s considering using a bank. And I’m thinking that I could step up instead. Offer to be the father. Have a kid.”

  “Jesus. I don’t even know what to say,” Derek said.

  “Lots of people do it.”

  “Yeah. Gay people. Infertile people. Desperate women. You’re forty-two, Ethan. Kay could name half a dozen of her friends who would lie down right now in the middle of the street and make a baby with you.”

  “I covered that. I’m not getting married again.”

  “Then don’t. Live with someone, whatever. But don’t become a parent by proxy.”

  “It wouldn’t be by proxy. I mean, the conception would be, obviously. But I’d want to be a part of the kid’s life. We’d raise him or her together, like any divorced couple. A custody agreement, child-support payments.”

  “You’re really serious, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah, I am. I’ve always wanted kids. After everything with Cassie I thought I’d put it behind me. But now this opportunity has come up and maybe I don’t have to miss out. Maybe there are other ways to do this.”

  Derek blew out his breath and shook his head. “Who is this woman, anyway? How close a friend is she?”

  “I work with her. I respect her. She’s smart, funny, attractive. I think she’d be a great mother and we could parent together really well.”

  “Wow. She sounds almost too good to be true. Why hasn’t some other lucky sucker snapped her up?”

  Ridiculously, Ethan felt himself bristle on Alex’s behalf. He knew his brother was only trying to protect him, but this wasn’t about Alex. She didn’t deserve Derek’s scorn.

  “The guy she was with for seven years didn’t want kids. She thought she had more time, but the doctor says once she’s over forty it’s slim pickings.”

  “Right.”

  Ethan cocked his head and waited but Derek remained silent. Ethan made a beckoning motion with his fingers. “Come on. I know you’ve got more. Hit me with it.”

  “That’s why you came here at five-thirty in the morning? For me to play devil’s advocate?”

  Ethan shrugged. “I knew you’d have an opinion. And there’s no one I trust more.”

  “Damned right I have an opinion. For starters, what are you going to tell your son or daughter when they ask how mommy and daddy met? ‘Mommy and Daddy had a great date down at the lab’?”

  “We’d tell them that we were friends, which is true. And when they were old enough to understand, we’d tell them the full truth.”

  “What about the fact that this kid is never going to know the security of having both his parents under the same roof? Right from the start he’s born into a broken home.”

  “You want me to go over the stats for single-parent families in Australia? There are plenty of people raising kids on their own, right from day one. Then there are the divorces and the custody arrangements. For sure any arrangement Alex and I come up with has to be better than what a lot of divorced couples agree to—and I’m in a position to know. This would be all about the child, not us. We wouldn’t be using the kid to punish each other, there’d be no issues with child support or access. No jealousy over new partners, no acrimony.”

  Derek’s eyes narrowed. “Alex. That’s the woman you play racquetball with, right?”

  Ethan hesitated. Until he made his final decision, he hadn’t planned on revealing Alex’s identity. After all, it was her business—until it became his. But he’d already blown the gaffe.

  “Yeah. That’s right.”

  “You say there’d be no acrimony. You’re kidding yourself if you think there aren’t going to be moments when the two of you want to rip each other’s heads off. It doesn’t matter whether you’re married or in a relationship or divorced or whatever, you’re going to disagree about something. Raising kids is like that, and no neat little contract you guys draw up beforehand is going to make any difference to that.”

  “How do you and Kay work it out?”

  “We fight. Then we have sex and make up. What are you and Alex going to do to get over the rough patches? Play a game of racquetball and exchange lawyer jokes?”

  “We’d work it out.” It had been a long time since he took anyone at face value or trusted his own instincts entirely where other people were concerned, but his gut told him Alex was a good and genuine person.

  And if his gut was wrong…well, he’d be protected. He’d make sure their co-parenting agreement was watertight and rock solid.

  “Doesn’t it worry you that this child would be the product of a medical procedure and not the result of an act of love?”

  “You trying to tell me that every kid who’s born into the world is born of love?”

  “All right, passion then. Something human and real. What you’re talking about is so…calculated. Like a business transaction. Call me a traditionalist, but I can’t help thinking that the creation of new life should at least be accompanied by some sentiment.”

  Ethan considered his brother’s words. He understood where Derek was coming from—he’d had the same gut-level rejection of Alex’s idea at first. He’d confronted her in the street, he’d been so determined that she hold out for the “real thing.” But after talking to her, he understood her urgency. She didn’t have the time to play the odds and hope. As a man, he had no such constraints, but given his vow to never again marry, it was unlikely he’d have a child any other way.

  Like Alex, he recognized that right here, right now there was an opportunity for him to perhaps fulfill a long-held dream. It was an unconventional opportunity, possibly a calculated one, as Derek said. But it was there, up for grabs.

  What had Alex said yesterday? This is what’s on the table and I’m not too proud or precious to take it.

 
He focused on his brother. “I appreciate your honesty.”

  “But it’s not going to change your mind, is it?”

  “No.”

  “You always were a stubborn bastard.”

  They resumed running. Ethan glanced at his brother, aware Derek seemed troubled. No doubt Derek would go home and tell Kay what Ethan intended and the two of them would rant and rave to each other about how crazy it was.

  Was he crazy for thinking about doing this? He had a good life—a lucrative career, the respect of his peers, the security and peace of mind of relying on no one but himself. Was he nuts to even think about throwing fatherhood into the mix?

  I want a child.

  He could still hear the longing in Alex’s voice. He glanced up at the pale morning sky.

  So do I.

  And that was what it came down to in the end.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ALEX GAVE HERSELF A stern talking-to when she arrived at work the next day. She would not be avoiding Ethan today, for any reason. True to her promise to herself, she was going to deal with this head-on. If he attempted to dissuade her again, she was going to let him know in no uncertain terms that while she appreciated his concern came from a sincere place, it was inappropriate. It was more than time for him to butt out and go polish his car or chat up a hot blonde. It was her life, her decision, and he didn’t get a vote.

  She was tense all morning, convinced he would ambush her in her office, but he never came. When she went out to grab a sandwich for lunch he wasn’t waiting for her in the foyer, either, as she’d half suspected he might be.

  It was possible he was in court, of course, or attending off-site meetings. But she saw him at the end of the corridor midafternoon and he caught her eye as he walked toward her. Adrenaline squeezed into her belly and her chin came up.

  Be strong. Tell him to mind his own beeswax. No explanations or justifications.

  She took a deep breath, ready to fire the opening salvo as he drew closer and closer. Then he nodded, murmured hello and passed her by.

  She stared at the empty hallway for a full ten seconds after he’d gone before forcing her shoulders down from around her ears and returning to her office. She told herself he was biding his time, but by the end of the day he hadn’t so much as sent her an email or left a phone message.

  Perhaps he’d reconsidered his interference after a good night’s sleep. Maybe, like her, he’d asked himself how her private life was any of his business.

  She didn’t fully relax until another day had passed and he still hadn’t approached her. Apparently she was off the hook. She told herself she was relieved, that it was best for their friendship and their working relationship that he back off. And she was relieved—but she was also conscious of a sense of disappointment. Which was crazy. He’d barged his way into her business, forced his opinions and concerns down her throat, almost made her doubt herself… She should be grateful that he’d finally decided to leave her alone.

  The truth was that she was embarking on a lonely journey. She’d be vetting fertility clinics on her own, selecting the donor on her own, waiting anxiously on her own. If she got pregnant, there would be no one to offer her crackers if she had morning sickness or rub her back or tell her to have an early night. And when the baby was born, she would be dealing with all the minor and major crises of raising a child on her own. Ethan’s interest and concern had been unwanted and frustrating and inappropriate, but it had also been sincere and real, born of friendship and genuine goodwill. There was something to be said for having someone looking out for you.

  She reminded herself that she’d been alone the bulk of her adult life and much of her childhood. She’d never needed anyone to watch her back or catch her if she fell. Why should now be any different?

  She spent the weekend going over her financial records. She had a couple of investment properties as well as the apartment, along with a healthy stock portfolio, and she sent an email to her financial advisor to make an appointment for the following week to discuss the best way to structure her affairs during her maternity leave.

  Once she was satisfied she had a good handle on things, she sat down in her living room with a cup of strong black coffee and read over the donor profiles. Once she’d exhausted the ones she’d accidentally printed at work, she accessed more via the internet. By midday Sunday she was awash with the details of over forty men and was feeling more than a little overwhelmed. A little depressed, too. As lovely as some of the donors sounded—if she could trust the profiles—she’d always imagined her heart would choose the father of her child, not her head. But it wasn’t as though she had a choice, right?

  She decided she needed a break. She turned off her computer, changed into her workout clothes and walked across busy Queens Road to Albert Park Lake. It was a clear, cold winter’s day and there were plenty of people walking their dogs or jogging along the track that circled the lake. She warmed up before running two laps, the cool air making her eyes sting. Then she spent twenty minutes stretching on the grass, easing the accumulated tension of the week from her hips and legs and back.

  Her head was much clearer when she returned to the apartment and she reviewed the profiles again until she had a short list of three donors.

  One was a firefighter in California, then there was a Ph.D. candidate and lastly an engineering student. On paper, they were all good options. Healthy, intelligent, kind. All of them claimed they were donating sperm because they had close friends or family members with fertility issues and they wanted to help others in similar circumstances. She chose to believe them, even though she knew that American donors were paid, while it was illegal in Australia for donors to receive anything except reimbursement for travel expenses. Given what she’d read about the sperm shortage from Australian men and the limited number of them who were prepared to donate to single women, she was almost certain she would end up using an American donor.

  Short list in hand, she was ready to put her plan in motion.

  ALEX ARRIVED AT WORK early on Monday morning, keen to clear her in-tray so she could close her office door and make a preliminary inquiry at the fertility clinic she’d researched. She also needed to make an appointment with Dr. Ramsay.

  Her step was brisk as she crossed the underground garage, her briefcase in hand.

  “Alexandra.”

  She glanced over her shoulder to see Ethan walking toward her, his chocolate-brown overcoat flaring behind him. Something fluttered in the pit of her stomach and she reminded herself that he’d had plenty of opportunity to corner her last week.

  “Hey,” she said.

  “I was going to drop by your office this morning,” he said as he fell into step beside her. “You got anything on for lunch today?”

  “Lunch?” she asked, instantly wary.

  “Yes, lunch. You know, sandwiches, sushi, soup. Other foodstuffs.”

  She glanced at him. His hair looked very dark in the dim lighting.

  “Is it only lunch?” she asked. “Or is there going to be a side order of your unsolicited opinion on the table?”

  He held up a hand. “Don’t shoot, I come in peace.”

  “Do you?”

  “Alex… Can we just have lunch? My treat. And I promise not to give you any more grief.” He drew a cross over his heart.

  Despite her wariness, it was hard not to be charmed by the childish gesture. It was one of the things she liked about him the most—despite the five-thousand-dollar suits and handmade Italian shoes and his undeniable good looks, he wasn’t afraid to be silly or humble or foolish.

  “We can walk to Pellegrini’s,” he added. “Have some spaghetti Bolognese and garlic bread.”

  “Right, and scare off our clients for the rest of the afternoon.”

  He spread his hands wide. “Exactly. It’s a win-win.”

  Her mouth curled at the corner and she made an effort to contain her smile. He really was a charming bastard when he put his mind to it—something he was no dou
bt well aware of.

  She leveled a stern finger at him. “No lectures, no questions. We go, we eat, we bitch about Leo’s latest cost-cutting memo, we come back.”

  “You’re the boss,” Ethan said.

  She narrowed her eyes, trying to read him. What was this really about? Was it possible he was simply trying to restore their friendship to its usual level? Or was she setting herself up to be browbeaten again?

  The sound of footsteps heralded the approach of one of the legal assistants. Ethan glanced over his shoulder, then back at her.

  “I’ll swing by your office at twelve,” he said.

  Then they were no longer alone and she was forced to swallow her uncertainty. She stood slightly behind him in the elevator as they traveled to the fifteenth floor, studying his profile covertly.

  She wanted things to be okay between them. Their relationship might be only a work-based one, but she would miss the lunches and their racquetball games if this issue came between them.

  She shook off her doubts as they left the elevator and went their separate ways. If he broke their agreement, she would leave the restaurant. It was that simple.

  Despite being distracted, she managed to clear her desk by eleven and she told Fran to hold her calls for fifteen minutes while she “dealt with a few matters.” She shut the door and called the fertility clinic.

  Ten minutes later she had an information package on its way to her in the mail and a list of tests she needed to discuss with her doctor. Once her health check was clear and she’d mapped her ovulation cycle, she could make her first appointment with the clinic.

  She opened the calendar on her computer. A month, maybe two months from now she might be peeing on a stick and holding her breath for the outcome. It was almost surreal.

  Her intercom buzzed.

  “Alex, I’ve got senior counsel for Brackman-Lewis on the phone, Alistair Hanlon. You said if he called to put him through.”