“I know.” She meets my eyes, her expression wistful. “I guess I was just hoping maybe you’d … changed your mind.”
A siren goes off in my head. “Are you pregnant?”
Her face blanches. “No! My God, no. It’s not that.”
“Good. I was about to have a stroke.” In fact, the room is still spinning.
“It’s just that I have that appointment at the fertility clinic tomorrow.”
My jaw falls open. “What?”
“I have an appointment at the fertility clinic tomorrow. The one I told you about.”
“I thought you canceled that.”
“I was supposed to, but I sort of forgot.” Beneath the table, she nudges my foot with hers and laughs nervously. “You’ve sort of hijacked my brain.”
“So wait …” My head is foggy, and my throat feels dry. I reach for my beer, dismayed to find the bottle empty. “You kept the appointment?”
“Yes. But not on purpose,” she says quickly. “I just forgot to cancel, and then yesterday I got a call confirming the appointment.”
“So why didn’t you cancel it then?”
“Well, I might have, but Aspen answered my phone and took a message—which she didn’t even tell me about until this afternoon.” She rolls her eyes. “Typical. Did I tell you what she was wearing today?”
I’m not in the mood to discuss Willow’s sister right now. “So did you call back and cancel?”
“I couldn’t. The office was closed by the time Aspen gave me the message. And besides,” she says, taking a deep breath, “I waited a long time to get that appointment. I was thinking I’d keep it.”
“Keep it?” Hot, pulsing fury surges through my veins. “You can’t be fucking serious, Willow. You’re not putting some guy’s junk in you. I won’t let you do it.”
“Reid, keep your voice down.” Willow looks around the restaurant in alarm. “People can hear you.”
“I don’t give a good goddamn who hears me. You are not going through with that ridiculous plan to have some asshole stranger’s kid!” I know I’m embarrassing both of us, but I can’t help it. What the fuck is wrong with everyone around me today? Am I the only sane person on the planet?
“Shhhh,” she admonishes, her cheeks turning scarlet. “Can we please talk about this quietly? Calmly?”
“I don’t know, Willow. I’m not sure I can remain calm when you’re talking about having some other guy put his—”
“Will you please stop saying it like that?” Her tone gets a little sharper.
“How else am I supposed to describe it?”
“Why are you getting so mad about this?”
I stare at her in disbelief. “My girlfriend wants to let some other dick knock her up, and you wonder why I’m mad?”
“You said you would support my decision no matter what,” she says, her eyes filling with tears.
“Well, that was before.”
“Before what?”
“Before you were mine!” I hate how it sounds—possessive and jealous—but I can’t fucking help it. “And if you want to stay that way, you’re not going to that appointment.”
Willow’s lips press into a thin line, and she stands up. “You’re being a total asshole,” she says quietly, a tear dripping down her cheek. “I’m going home. If and when you decide you can talk to me like a grownup, you know where to find me.”
I watch her walk away from the table, and it’s as if every bone in my body wants to jump up and follow her, but every muscle keeps me pinned to my chair. This is the reason having a girlfriend doesn’t work—they expect you to turn into somebody else. Willow has known all along how I feel about that fucking insemination shit. It was bad enough before we got together, but I can’t believe she thought I’d be okay with it now.
The server comes by and asks if I’d like a drink, and I almost tell him no—but then I think, fuck it. I want another beer, and I can have one. Just because Willow took her toys and went home doesn’t mean I don’t deserve a drink at the end of what is turning out to be a really fucking shitty day.
“Thanks, but I think I’ll go back to the bar,” I tell him. “You can have this table for someone else. My date left.”
“Sorry, man.” The server gives me a sympathetic look.
“Don’t be. I’m better off alone.”
Angrily, I stride over to the bar, wedge my way in, and order a whiskey, neat. But I only get about two thirds of the way through it when I look over and see none other than my fucking father sitting there, with a woman who is not my mother.
Wouldn’t luck have it that I’m forced to see him tonight?
He stands, making his way over to me. “Reid.”
“Asshole.”
Dear old Dad rolls his eyes like I’m a stubborn child, and maybe I’m behaving like one, but I can’t think about that. It just makes me feel shittier about myself.
“Sorry to see your date storm off,” he says, in a tone that lets me know he’s more amused than sorry.
“I’m sure you are. I see you’re on a date, though. Good for you. Glad to see some things never change.”
Dad looks over at his table, where the brunette he’s with is checking her lips in a compact mirror. “That’s Veronica. She’s my new secretary. I thought it would be a good thing to have dinner first.”
First. He means before they go over his personal preferences for sex. “And after? What’s for dessert?”
“Don’t be an infant.”
“Don’t be a cheater.”
My father laughs once. “I knew coming over here to talk to you was a mistake. You haven’t changed. You’re still a child, and I don’t have the patience for it.”
Well, color me disappointed. Like I give a shit. “How’s Mom? Does Veronica like her? Or is Veronica the reason for her latest attempt at rehab?”
My dad throws a fifty-dollar bill on the bar. “This is for my son. He’s had enough.”
You know what? He’s right. I have had enough. I’ve had enough of this conversation, of my asshole father, of feeling like a disappointment to everyone—including myself. And I have somewhere I’d much rather be.
I think of Willow’s face when she left. The hurt expression. Guilt rips through my gut for the way I treated her.
Fuck, I’m an asshole. I shouldn’t have talked to her that way. I shouldn’t have embarrassed her like that. I shouldn’t have acted like a goddamn caveman who thinks he owns his woman.
But dammit—all I wanted for tonight was to have a good time.
Then you should have told her that.
I look at my father, the man who has fucked my life up beyond compare, and shake my head. Then I toss the remainder of my drink back and slam the empty glass on the bar. “It’s been great seeing you, Pop. Thanks for the drink. Now stay the fuck out of my life.”
He grabs my arm, stopping me as I try to walk away. “You think you’re nothing like me, don’t you? You think it’s going to be different with that girl? The one who walked out of here? It won’t. Women are all the same, Reid. They want something, and they’ll do whatever they can to get it. Then you’re stuck trying to be someone you’re not for the rest of your life. Someone you have no desire to be. Face it—like it or not, you’re a Fortino man.”
His hand drops, and I don’t give him another glance. I walk away, desperate to be with the only person in the world who has never made me feel like a Fortino.
I’ll do everything I can to forget I even saw my father’s face.
Twenty-One
Willow
I’m still sobbing into a couch cushion when I hear the knock on my door.
“Go away!” I yell.
“Willow, come on,” shouts Reid. “Let me in.”
“No!”
“Please?”
I sit up and sniff, wiping my eyes with the back of one hand. “Why should I?”
“I want to apologize.”
Rising to my feet, I walk over to the door. But I don’t open it
yet. “For what, exactly?”
Silence.
I look through the peephole at him. He’s fidgeting. “If you don’t even know what you came to apologize for, why should I let you in?”
“I’m sorry I was a jerk at the restaurant. I’m sorry I yelled.” He puts one hand on the door. “Please talk to me, Wills. I need you.”
That tugs at me a little, and reluctantly I open the door. “Fine. Come in.”
He looks relieved. “Thank you.”
I step aside and fold my arms over my chest, because if he hugs me, I’m afraid I’ll be too easy on him.
He goes over to the couch and drops onto it, rubbing his palms on his knees. Then he looks back at me. “Come sit?”
I hesitate for a moment, but then walk over to him. He grabs my wrist and tugs me onto his lap, then locks me into his arms so tightly I can’t get up. After struggling unsuccessfully, I give up and sigh. “Fine. I’ll sit here.”
He rests his forehead on my temple. “Sorry I was a dick. I had a shitty day.”
“I could tell. But you wouldn’t talk about it.”
“Because I didn’t want to ruin our night.”
“Um …”
“Yeah, I know. I ruined it anyway.”
“Was it work stuff?”
“No. It’s family. My mom’s in rehab again.”
My heart melts. “I’m sorry. But isn’t rehab a good thing?”
“Maybe it was the first dozen times. Or even the first two dozen.”
“You don’t think she’s serious about it?”
“She’s never serious about anything except getting back at my dad. But she manipulates my brother so easily into taking her side.”
“You prefer your dad’s side?”
“I prefer my own side—which is the side Leo should be on, since I was the one who had to step in and raise him when my parents were too fucked up to do it.”
I put my arms around his neck and settle a little more comfortably on his lap. “I’m so sorry, Reid. Want to talk more about it?”
He frowns. “No. I want to be with you and forget anyone else even exists.”
“We can do that.”
“Are you still mad?” He kisses my chin, my jaw, my throat.
“I’m getting over it.” I smile when his scruff tickles my neck.
“Good,” he says, shifting me to the side and tipping me onto my back.
I want to talk more about what it was like for him growing up, but he’s lifting up my skirt.
I want to talk more about his feelings regarding his mom’s return to rehab, but his head is between my thighs.
I want to ask him again how he feels about my keeping the appointment at the fertility clinic tomorrow, but his naked body is moving over mine and he’s pushing inside me again and again and all I can do is pull him closer and whisper his name and hope that being with me is the salve his soul needed tonight.
We go from the couch to my bedroom, and no more words are spoken.
When the sun comes up the following morning, I lie close to him and wish more than anything it could be like this for the rest of our lives. Going to bed together, waking up together, coming home to each other. Does he want that too? What does he see for our future? And what the hell am I going to do about that appointment? I don’t have the heart to wake him up and ask him about it, but I don’t want him to be upset if I go without telling him.
I’m completely torn.
I get out of the bed, and he doesn’t stir. I need coffee and a plan—that’s the only thing I can do right now. Once I get to the kitchen, I pour myself a cup, and sit at the table. There is nothing wrong with going for the appointment, is there? I’m not asking Reid to give anything up by me doing what I want in life.
There are things that happen in this universe for a reason, and that appointment not being canceled is a sign.
I drain my cup and hop in the shower. Once I’m dressed and ready, I check on Reid, who is still passed out. Waking him and talking about this entire situation would be the right thing, but I don’t want another fight right now.
So I don’t do it.
On a piece of notepaper, I leave a note: Went to my appointment, call you when I’m done. I love you.
I kiss it and pray he’ll understand because losing him is my biggest nightmare, but having a family is my best dream.
Once I’m at the appointment, my nerves settle down. I get checked in, pee in a cup, and have a full exam. Now I’m in the office with the doctor, going over everything and waiting to see the results.
My phone has rung four times, but I’m still not looking at it, because I know who it is and I’m a chicken shit.
The doctor seems optimistic, which is a good thing. “The process is simple, and it’s definitely the more affordable option, compared to IVF,” she explains.
“Okay. And how does it ... you know ... work? With picking a guy.”
She smiles and pulls out a book. “We have a very good selection of quality candidates that have been screened. We take this very seriously, and always do our best to get a variety so that you have options. It’s all in this book. Once you decide, we contact your choice, and then we do the procedure.”
It sounds so simple.
“Then hopefully we get a baby, right?”
“Yes, that would be the goal, but you should know that it’s not always successful one hundred percent of the time. There are a variety of reasons for failure, but I always like to be as upfront as possible. It may be a few times that we have to do this.”
Oh, God. I don’t know that I can endure it more than once. Not to mention that if I can get Reid to even understand it the first time, there’s no way in hell he’ll keep his shit together for a second. I feel dizzy and thirsty.
“Ms. Hayes? Are you alright?”
“I’m just a little overwhelmed.”
The doctor nods. “I understand. Do your family and friends know about your plans? Do you have support?”
“Yes, my sister knows and my ... my boyfriend.”
“Oh, you’re dating someone?”
“I am.”
I can see the confusion in her eyes. If I have someone, why would I want to have a baby with someone else?
“Is he infertile?”
I shake my head. “No, he’s just opposed to having kids.”
Her eyes turn soft and she clasps her hands in front of her. “Ms. Hayes, I want to be honest, this can be a very difficult route to have a child. People can fail to get pregnant or suffer losses. Even with success stories, it’s the people around them that get my patients through it. I want you to be sure this is what you want, and also that the people around you will be there.”
Will Reid be there? Will there even be an us anymore? After the way he acted last night, I don’t really know. He was so angry that I would even think about this, but his position hasn’t changed. Not once did he say he wanted kids.
I don’t know what to do.
My phone vibrates and my stomach drops. It’s as if he’s been summoned by thought. I can almost feel the anger of the person calling.
“Thank you, Doctor. I really appreciate it. I have a lot to think about, but I know I want a child. That is the one thing I’m sure of.”
“That’s the one thing I can help you with. Here’s the book. Go home, look at it, think it over, and then let’s see you back here in a week. By then, I’m hoping you’ll have a decision and maybe a selection for your donor.”
My hands are shaking as I reach out and take it from her. “Thank you.”
“I’ll see you next week.”
I nod. Yeah, I’ll either be nursing a broken heart or Reid will have suddenly found a way to accept this.
I leave the office with my head spinning as I try to get a grip on everything. I have to talk to Reid, that’s first and foremost. I love him. That much is true, but I don’t think I can give up my dreams of being a mother—not even for him.
If it was Reid who wanted a kid, wo
uld I be mad if he did whatever it took to achieve that?
No. Other than him sleeping with another woman, nothing would be a dealbreaker. And I’m not betraying him with anyone. I’m just finding a way to have him and the child I want, if that’s even possible. I’m not asking for anything from him, other than to love me enough to understand this.
As I walk, I grab my phone and sure enough, the four missed calls and two voicemails are him.
I play the first voicemail.
“Willow.” Deep sigh. “I’m so mad right now. I’m so fucking mad that you went and you left me a damn note ... and just ... just call me back.”
Second message.
“Wills, please don’t do this. I’m not ready to ... I can’t lose you ... just call me.”
It’s the tone of his voice in the second one that breaks me. He sounds desperate, sad, and disappointed.
I steel myself and hit his number. After two rings it goes to voicemail. Weird. Why would he want me to call him and then not answer?
He shoots me a text immediately.
* * *
Reid: Can’t talk, in the middle of something at work.
* * *
Me: Okay. Can you come to my apartment after work so we can talk?
* * *
Reid: Yes. I’ll see you about six.
* * *
That gives me the rest of the day to come up with some brilliant idea to keep him when I tell him I’m going through with the insemination. God, I hope I come up with something.
I have to.
I go into the office for the afternoon, but I find it tough to concentrate on other people’s love lives. I keep hoping lightning will strike and I’ll think of a way to have both Reid and a baby, some perfect combination of words to help him understand that being a mother doesn’t mean I can’t still be his. I can love him and love a child too, can’t I?
Eventually Aspen wanders over. “I can’t take it anymore,” she tells me. “Your aura is a hot mess.”
Imperfect Match Page 15