The Best Laid Plans

by Sarah Mayberry

  She glanced at Ethan and saw that he was frowning as he read.

  “Is there something wrong?” she asked.

  “No.”

  She wasn’t sure if he was covering or not. “If there’s a problem, we should probably talk about it.”

  “No problem. I guess it’s just hit me that we’re really doing this.”

  “Yes.”

  She dropped her gaze to the magazines stacked beneath her other paperwork. They’d seemed like a good idea last night. But maybe he’d already covered that end of things.

  For Pete’s sake, now is hardly the time to be squeamish. Offer him the magazines, and if he doesn’t want them, it’s no big deal.

  “Listen. I didn’t know what you wanted to do about… I thought the clinic might have some stuff, but I wasn’t sure. Anyway, I bought these for you last night. I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I got you a little bit of everything….”

  She slid the magazines from beneath the other papers and pushed them across the table toward him. Ethan glanced at the cover of Playboy, his expression completely unreadable. “There’s a Hustler there, too, and another one with cars and women with big— Well, like I said. I wasn’t sure what you were into.”

  There was a smile playing around Ethan’s mouth when she finally rallied the courage to look at him. “You’re laughing at me, aren’t you? I knew the magazines were a bad idea.”

  “They’re a very thoughtful gift. But I think I can manage on my own.”

  She could feel herself blushing but she was determined to cover this issue. “You’re not worried about…performing on demand?”

  “I think I’ve had enough practice to get it right,” he said, very dry.

  “Right. Still, it’s not exactly an ideal situation, is it?”

  “For you, either. No wine and roses or soft music in the treatment room.”

  “No.”

  Instead, there would be a hospital gown that didn’t close properly at the back and people with surgical masks on their faces and the smell of antiseptic and her legs in stirrups. The conception of her child would be a medical event, not the act of love and intimacy Alex had always imagined. There would be no lying in her lover’s arms afterward, imagining the baby that might result. There would only be Ethan sitting in the waiting room. And while that was a hell of a lot more than she’d hoped for at the beginning of this process, it was still a far cry from how she’d dreamed of having her child.

  She’d been shortchanged so many things in life. A father. A mother, in many respects. She felt as though she’d been fighting and making compromises from the moment she was born. And now there was this, the ultimate compromise. The making of a child without love or passion or even physical gratification.

  So what? You’re just going to have to suck it up. The way you’ve always sucked it up. Do you want this or not? Do you?

  She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting both the tears and the understanding rising inside her.

  “Alex.” The couch depressed beside her as Ethan joined her. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”

  She sucked in a breath but it was hard to get it past the words choking her throat. “I don’t think I can do this.”

  The moment the words were out of her mouth she felt both enormous relief and terrible grief. How long had she been hiding this truth from herself? Weeks? Days? She’d been so determined to steamroller her way over everything, including her own qualms and concerns. So determined not to miss out, at any cost.

  She’d allowed herself to be seduced into a false sense of intimacy and togetherness with Ethan. She’d shared her thoughts and feelings with him and made jokes about him having to get a new car and watched him with his nephews and allowed herself to believe that when she had her baby it wouldn’t be that different from what she’d always wanted.

  And she’d been wrong. So wrong and stupid and desperate.

  She pressed a hand to her sternum and forced herself to look at Ethan. She’d started this journey. Offered him a chance he didn’t think he’d ever have. He’d stepped up to help her. And now she was reneging on her end of the bargain. Copping out.

  “I’m so sorry. I thought I was okay, that I’d reconciled myself to doing it this way. But I… It’s so clinical. So…cold. If I’d tried to get pregnant the normal way and my partner and I wanted to exhaust all avenues this would feel like a godsend… But at the moment it feels like—”

  “Giving up.”

  She glanced at Ethan through swimming eyes. “Yes. I want to be a mother so much—but not like this. Maybe that means I don’t want it enough. I don’t know. I just know that this feels wrong.”

  He reached for her tightly clasped hands. “It’s okay,” he said. He wrapped his hands around hers, the pressure warm and firm.

  “No, it’s not. You came to me with this incredibly generous offer and now I’m wimping out and leaving you high and dry—”

  “Alex, it’s okay. I was having second thoughts, too.”

  She dashed the tears from her cheek with a fisted hand.

  “You don’t have to say that to try to make me feel better. You’re allowed to be angry and disappointed. You can even yell at me if you think it would make you feel better. Hell, you could probably even sue me for breach of contract.”

  “I’m not trying to make you feel better. I saw something last night that got me thinking, and reading over the procedure this morning… I don’t know. Standing alone in a cubicle with an empty cup and a magazine isn’t the way I’ve always imagined becoming a father.”

  Her gaze searched his face. “So it’s not just me, then? This feels wrong?”

  “It’s not just you.” He squeezed her hands then released his grip. “In theory, this seemed like a solution. But I guess we’re both a little less hardheaded than we imagined.”

  He was being honest. He felt the same way—this was one compromise too many. She could see it in his eyes, hear it in his voice.

  “God.”

  She put her head in her hands. She was relieved that he wasn’t angry, that she wasn’t alone in balking at the last hurdle. It would have been terrible if he’d felt ripped-off or misled or cheated.

  But none of that stopped her from feeling disappointed. There would be no baby. The past few weeks of planning and discussions and excitement had been for nothing. At the end of the day, neither of them were…what? Ruthless enough? Determined enough? Whatever. Neither of them was prepared to sacrifice a part of themselves for the dream of being a parent. Having a child wasn’t an at-any-cost proposition, not for her or for him.

  “I need to call the clinic,” she said after a moment. “Cancel everything.”

  “I can do that, if you like.”

  “No, I’ll do it. I started this thing.” She pushed herself to her feet and looked down at him. “I’m so sorry you got caught up in my baby crisis, Ethan. If I’d stuck to my original plan and used a sperm bank, the only one feeling like crap right now would be me.”

  “We both went along for this ride. And you might have had second and third thoughts weeks ago if I hadn’t been here, cheering you on from the sidelines.”

  He offered her the ghost of a smile. She leaned down impulsively and wrapped her arm around his neck, pressing her check against his in a one-armed but still fierce hug.

  “You’re a good man. A good friend,” she said.

  It was the first time she’d initiated contact between them. She was aware of the rasp of his beard against her face and the softness of his hair brushing against her fingers. His arms closed around her in response.

  “You’re a good woman. And don’t worry—it’ll happen for you, Alex. Some lucky bastard will come along and realize you’re a woman in a million and it’ll all fall into place.”

  She released him and after a second’s hesitation he followed suit.

  “I don’t know if I should let myself believe in those kinds of happy-ever-afters. Maybe I should just start collecting cats,” she said.

&n
bsp; “Alex—”

  She held up a hand. “Yes, I know, I’m an attractive woman, I’ve still got time left, yada yada. I guess I’ll have to wait and see, won’t I, since seizing the day hasn’t really worked out for me.”

  She pushed her hair away her forehead.

  “Now, before I get out my violin, I’ll make that call.”

  She stared out her kitchen window while she waited for the call to connect. It occurred to her that they’d both taken the day off for nothing. She smiled grimly. Right now, wasted leave time was the least of her worries.

  The receptionist at the clinic didn’t sound surprised when Alex told her she wanted to cancel her appointment. Perhaps this happened all the time. Perhaps she was one of many desperate woman who found they didn’t have the stomach to take the pragmatic route to motherhood when push came to shove.

  Ethan was browsing her CD collection when she came back. She stood in the doorway watching him unnoticed for a few seconds. He was a good friend. A really decent man. Now that she’d gotten to know him—really know him—she could see past his beautiful face to the man underneath. He would have made a great father. She found it hard to believe that he planned to spend the rest of his life alone. She hoped that whatever it was that was holding him back resolved itself for him. He deserved better.

  He glanced up. “All done?”

  “All done.”

  There was a short silence, then he pulled a CD with a bright pink cover from her shelf.

  “Cyndi Lauper. There’s a guilty secret.”

  “Hands off Cyndi. She’s very retro cool.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “That’s drawing a long bow.”

  “Says the man with not one, not two, but three Barry White albums,” she said.

  “They were a gag gift from my brother.”

  “Sure they were.”

  “Don’t get too high and mighty on me, lady-who-owns-Nana Mouskouri’s-greatest-hits.”

  He plucked the CD from her bookshelf with a gotcha flourish.

  “Yeah, well. They were doing a retrospective on the radio. I got carried away—”

  “At least you have the courage to admit your mistake,” he said sagely.

  She opened her mouth to say something sassy back, but suddenly her throat and chest were aching and she knew tears were not far away.

  She cleared her throat. “Listen, I’ve got a few things I need to take care of. Loose ends and whatnot. You know.”

  “Right. I should go, then.”

  Yes, please go. Before I blubber all over you. Before I lose it completely.

  “If you don’t mind. I might as well make use of the day off to get something done.”

  His expression was unreadable as he replaced her CDs on the shelves then collected his coat from the back of her couch. She followed him to the front door. Ten more seconds and he would be gone and she would be alone and it wouldn’t matter if she howled her eyes out.

  “Listen. If you need to talk, call me, okay?” Ethan said as he reached the doorstep.

  “Sure. But I’m fine, really,” she lied.

  His gaze searched her face, then he nodded. “Okay.”

  She waited until he’d reached the elevator before she shut the door. Then she walked into her living room and stared at all the fertility-clinic paperwork and those damned stupid mens’ magazines she’d bought for Ethan.

  The wanting-to-cry feeling hit her again and she closed her eyes.

  All right, you big sook. Get it over and done with. Because this is the only chance you’re going to get to wallow in this.

  She waited for the tears to come. Her throat got tight. Her chest ached. She gripped the couch—but her eyes remained steadfastly dry.

  Okay.

  Okay.

  Moving slowly and carefully, she did a circuit of her apartment, collecting anything and everything to do with the fertility clinic and pregnancy and babies. She dumped the paperwork in a carton, to be taken down to the Dumpster in the basement next time she left the apartment. She hesitated over throwing the pregnancy books in.

  She was still only thirty-eight, after all.

  Hope springs eternal.

  She wavered for half a second more. Then she dropped the books into the carton. She didn’t want anything hanging around to remind her of this debacle. It would be bad enough having to face Ethan at work every day with the memory of all of this sitting between them.

  She pushed the carton close to the front door so she wouldn’t forget it when she went out. The sooner it was gone, the better.

  Then she returned to her living room, sat on her couch and burst into noisy, messy tears.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  SHE’D KICKED HIM OUT. Amazing that after everything that had gone down this morning, the thing he couldn’t get past was that Alex hadn’t wanted him around once they’d made the mutual decision not to go through with their plans. She’d been disappointed, on the verge of tears, and she hadn’t wanted him to witness her moment of weakness. Because that was how Alex saw emotion and tears—as a weakness. A folly to be endured then brushed aside and ignored. He knew enough about her now to understand that.

  If she’d let him stay, if she’d cried in front of him, he would have told her that tears didn’t make her less strong or less capable. He would have held her and talked to her and together they might have made sense of the rollercoaster ride they’d taken over the past few weeks.

  Instead, she’d kicked him out and he was making bread at eleven in the morning, taking out his frustration and, yes, disappointment on the mass of dough under his hands. Because he was disappointed, even though he knew they’d made the right decision. For a short while he’d convinced himself that he’d found a way to have what he wanted without the mess and entanglements and risk of a relationship. It had seemed like the perfect solution. Then reality had intruded.

  He wanted more from parenthood. And so did Alex. When push came to shove, neither of them wanted to compromise.

  Which left him…nowhere. His feelings hadn’t changed regarding marriage. And he’d rejected the alternate route to parenthood. All of which meant that it really was over for him.

  He was never going to be a father.

  Might as well let the fact seep into his bones, permanently this time. He’d have to make do with his brother’s children, be the best uncle he could be.

  It wasn’t the end of the world. Disheartening, yes, but he’d get over it. Accept it. Move on. After all, he had a pretty good life.

  The dough had lost its elasticity. He’d over-kneaded it. He stared at it for a long, silent minute. Then he gathered the big, floury lump and dropped it in the rubbish bin.

  His thoughts shifted to Alex again as he started cleaning the counter. Had she allowed herself to cry once he’d left? Had she allowed herself even a small moment of humanity and frailty?

  He dried his hands and glanced around his kitchen. He should go for a drive. Or maybe call his brother, see whether he wanted to hook up for lunch. Anything other than haunt his apartment, fixating on Alex and what had almost been between them.

  He pulled out his phone and dialed. His brother picked up after the second ring.

  “It’s me. You free for lunch?” Ethan said.

  “I thought you had an appointment with a paper cup today.”

  Ethan gazed out across the park. “We canceled the appointment. You free or not?”

  “Who canceled? You or Alex?”

  “It was a mutual decision.”

  “What happened to wanting a kid?”

  Ethan closed his eyes. What had he been thinking, calling his brother? He was only going to get the same grief he’d been getting for the past five years.

  “You know what, forget I called.” He started to hang up.

  “Wait. I’m sorry. I wasn’t having a go at you. I know how much you were banking on this.”

  “It was a crazy idea.”

  “Well, yeah. But it was a step in the right direction. You and A
lex are closer now. You both know what each other wants—”

  “Derek. I swear, you’ve got a one-track mind. Will you please give it a rest?”

  “At least be honest with yourself. You have feelings for her, and all this stuff about a baby was your way of trying to smuggle them in under the radar.”

  Ethan didn’t say anything for a long moment. “It doesn’t matter how I feel about Alex.”

  Even if it had been a long time since he’d thought of her as simply a friend.

  “So you’re going to let her walk away?”

  Ethan thought about what Alex wanted and what he wanted.

  “Yeah, I am.”

  “Bullshit. You’ve never given up on anything you wanted in your life.”

  There was so much confidence in his brother’s voice. He was so sure that all Ethan needed was to meet a good woman and he’d shrug off everything that had happened with Cassie and leap into the breach again.

  Derek didn’t understand. But how could he when he didn’t know the full story? He knew only that Cassie had left, and that Ethan had not been interested in a reconciliation. They had never discussed the details because Ethan had never been able to reveal the full depth of his wife’s betrayal and rejection. He literally hadn’t been able to make himself form the words.

  The day he’d come home from work and found Cassie waiting for him was etched like acid in his memory. She’d given him no reasons or explanations or warnings, she’d simply severed their marriage in the most brutal possible way. She’d sat there and told him she didn’t love him anymore. Then she’d told him about the baby. And then she’d walked, leaving him to try to make sense of what remained of his life.