“We should be friends,” I say. “We could be.”
He raises an eyebrow, like he’s challenging me to say more.
“Fine. Maybe…maybe I asked you because you’ve always been there. You’re like a fixture.”
“Really?” he drawls in a tone that’s completely unimpressed.
“I mean. Ugh. No, look. I didn’t want this to be wrapped up in emotion or drama. I don’t need a boyfriend baby daddy or another husband. That’s not the point of this. The point is bringing someone into this world that I can love with my whole heart. I thought, it sort of feels like, other than my family, you’ve always been in my life. Like, if I’m earth rotating around the solar system, then you’re the Kuiper Belt, sort of on the fringes, stuck out there with Pluto.”
Josh gives a surprised laugh. “That’s the worst compliment I’ve ever received.”
She said, “You’re like the Kuiper belt, out there with Pluto.”
I smile at him and shrug. “That’s all I’ve got. You’re already a constant in my family’s life, in my life too. If you want to be a part of the baby’s life, then you can be, easily. And if you don’t, if you just want to watch from afar, then you can do that too. But, regardless, after twenty-four years of watching you be a decent enough human being, I can say that my baby would be proud to have you as her donor dad. With the database it’s a gamble, the dad could be some psycho that burned ants with a magnifying glass as a kid, or collects vintage doll’s eyes, or I don’t know, has freezers full of feet. But I already know you and the worst thing you ever did was collect the panties of every girl you ever came across.” I shake my head at him and drawl out, “Casanova.”
Josh gives a short laugh. “Good enough, Gemma. Good enough.”
He wraps his arm around my shoulders and we walk toward the front door of the doctor’s office.
“So, now you tell me. Why’d you change your mind?”
Josh looks down at me and smirks, “I figured if I did, you’d throw some pity sex my way. Pay to play, Gemma. Pay to play.”
I gasp in outrage and send a side punch into his kidney.
He grunts and then, “Kidding. Jeez. That’s some right hook. What, did Dylan teach you that?”
“Tell me.”
We stop in front of the glass front door.
I don’t think he’s going to answer me, but then Josh says in a quiet voice, so low I have to lean in to hear him, “You’re not the only one who’s been waiting for someone to love.”
I’m stunned, but before I can respond, he starts to chuckle.
“You should see your face. I’m kidding, Gemma. I’m kidding.”
Unbelievable. Of course he’d be kidding. “Don’t you ever take anything seriously?”
He lifts his eyebrows at me and smirks, then he pulls open the door for me and holds it wide. “Come on, we don’t want to be late for our date.”
I step into the building lobby. The heat settles over me and nips at the chill in my cheeks. In a surprising gesture of solidarity, Josh takes my gloved hand and gives it a squeeze.
I smile at him in gratitude.
It’s time to get to the business of baby making.
10
Dr. Ingraham looks down at the history and physical form that Josh filled out, then back up at us. He scratches at his round, bald head and frowns.
“It says here you’re single, but Gemma indicated that you were partners,” Dr. Ingraham says.
I resist the urge to look over at Josh. I can feel myself blush. Josh sits next to me in a blue vinyl padded chair, mine is green vinyl. We’re scooched so close together our knees nearly touch. Dr. Ingraham sits behind his desk. He’s half hidden by the stacks of paper and journals surrounding him.
I noticed Josh raised his eyebrows at the pile of plastic anatomy models on the doctor’s desk when we walked in, but other than that one change of expression, he hasn’t seemed fazed.
“I only ask,” Dr. Ingraham continues, “because it makes a difference in the process.”
“Gemma and I are friends,” Josh says. “I’m acting as her donor.”
I try not to squirm in my seat. “Friends” is a far cry from “partner with super-awesome amazing winner sperm.” But Dr. Ingraham doesn’t even blink at the change of status.
“In that case, once you produce your sperm sample, we’ll have to quarantine it for six months before it can be released.”
“I’m sorry. What does that mean?” I ask.