Page 46 of Good as Gold
“Guess we’re staying,” he says easily.
Oh boy. I hustle off to send the other children home. The parents are all right on time today, too. Those traitors. I’m going to have to give an unrehearsed apology.
When the play area is empty except for Nicole, I head over to the picnic table where Matteo is sitting in the sunshine, looking calm and thoughtful. And wildly attractive.
I sit across from him. “Thanks for waiting. I owe you an apology for last night.”
He chuckles. “You really don’t. I’ve had worse nights. It happens.”
“Really? Lots of women get drunk and ask you to father their children? Wait—don’t answer that. I can actually picture it.”
He tips his head back and laughs. “Nah, but thanks for the ego boost.”
“I’m never drinking tequila again.”
“Good call.” His smile is blinding. “Only a drunk person thinks I should be a father.”
“Not true! I think you’d be perfect. That’s why drunk Leila asked the question. My sin was assuming that it was a reasonable request. It’s a huge deal, and I didn’t mean to behave like it isn’t.”
He gives me a sideways glance. “Isn’t that why most women would choose a sperm bank? Because they want an anonymous donor?”
“Do they?” I shrug. “Honestly, I’m kind of hung up on the anonymous part. It scares me. I’d rather my kid have half your genetic material than a stranger’s. Because you’re amazing.”
He’s staring at me now, and I realize I’m pedaling in the opposite direction that I meant to.
Shit.
“I’m not that amazing,” he whispers. “Never have been. You can do better.”
I sigh. “Look, I understand that you’re not interested. And I will go to a sperm bank and never mention it to you again. But any kid would be lucky to be as strong and as kind as you are.”
“So you’re doing this?” he asks. “For sure?”
“Absolutely. If I can afford it in the fall. I’ll need to work extra hours this summer to save up.”
“I feel that.” He shoves his hands into his pockets. “I might stick around Vermont and work for Otto and your dad.”
My heart does a cartwheel. “Really?”
“Yeah. But only if I can rent out my condo in Aspen. It’s in a very desirable building in the nicest part of town. That place has been a great investment. Hell, I could sell it and buy another place outside of town and solve all my cash issues at once. But I’d rather not uproot my life like that.”
“Oh, wow.” I picture him driving past my Colebury apartment all summer, and my belly shimmies.
Nicole jumps out of the playhouse, singing to herself. She grabs a child-sized broom and starts sweeping the doorstep.
Matteo watches her and smiles. “Just hypothetically,” he says, “if you had a friend be your donor, would the child grow up knowing who the donor was?”
The question startles me. It almost sounds like he’s considering my idea. “Well, yeah. At least when the child got older. Knowing your medical history is pretty important. It’s one of the reasons that anonymous donors aren’t my favorite idea. But knowing who that person is and having that man in your life aren’t the same thing. The friend would set his own boundaries.”
“Is that fair to a child, though?” he asks quietly. “Here’s the name of your bio dad, but you can’t call him except for medical information?”
I’ve thought long and hard about this already. “It’s all about setting expectations. If I tell my child that I decided to raise her on my own, but conceived her with the help of a friend, that’s a lot different than thinking,Daddy rejected us. She’ll know it was a choice we made. Unless he wanted to be involved.”
“You’re brave to try to navigate all this. I can see why people go the anonymous route.”
“Yeah, but anonymity is a fallacy. Those mail-in DNA tests that people use now have kind of blown up the whole concept. Anonymous donors can’t count on staying that way anymore. It’s just…really complicated. And yet there are still women like me who want a baby.”
“Like I said, you’re brave.”
