Page 52 of Good as Gold
“I know. But all she said was, ‘That’s between my child and me. Someday you can ask her, and maybe she’ll tell you.’”
“That’s a badass response.”
“I thought so too, and I never forgot it. Who knows? I might get to use that line myself someday soon.”
He nods, thoughtful. “You’ve been thinking about this awhile, yeah?”
“I have.”
He folds his arms across that impeccable chest. “My sister seems to think I should do this with you.”
Wait, what?“You told yoursister?There’s another person I can never look in the eye again.”
“Really?” He cocks his head. “I thought you really hoped I’d consider this.”
“Um…” My mind whirls. Is heactuallyconsidering it? “I did. I do. So much that I couldn’t ask you sober.”
“I’m trying to give the idea its due, yeah? And I didn’t think I could do that without a little confidential chat with Zara. She knows as much as anybody about having a baby alone.”
“Of course she does.” And of course he shouldn’t have to consider something so important without a discussion with his family. “You’re right. What did she say?”
He straightens the clean glassware on the shelf, a thoughtful expression on his face. “She said I should take it on faith that you knew what you were doing. And not to question the logic of using me, of all people.”
“Matteo. The world needs more people like you. And Zara is right—if it’s not you, it will be some other guy. A less wonderful guy.”
His hands go still on the glassware. Then he slowly turns to face me, hands braced on the bar, a serious expression in his dark eyes. “Tell me exactly how this would go,” he whispers. “How you’d time it. That kind of thing.”
I blink. “Um…” I can’t believe we’re actually having this conversation. “In about eight days, the timing would be right. I’d use an ovulation kit to help me figure out the best possible day.”
He nods once, encouraging me to go on. But I’m struggling, because I never rehearsed this conversation.
“I’d have some, um, papers for you to sign, explaining that the child would be entirely my responsibility, and that you were, um,donatingat my specific request.”
A smile slowly forms on his chiseled face. “Go on.”
We’re getting to the really tricky stuff. Andthisis why sober me would never have found a way to bring this up. “You would, um, have a routine test for…”
“STDs,” he says. “Sure.”
“Okay, yup, and…” I’m stammering now. “Uh, at my age, one time probably wouldn’t be enough. So you’d be, um, signing up for a couple of months of this. And you’d have to abstain. Like,reallyabstain. Even from…” I cannot say the wordmasturbationin this bar. “They usually ask donors to, um, save it up for a couple days beforehand.”
He drops his chin and laughs. “Okay. Yeah. That wouldn’t have occurred to me.”
My face is on fire now. “It’s a lot to ask,” I babble.
He stops laughing and looks down at me with a tenderness that takes my breath away. “But those details are small, aren’t they? Compared with creating a whole new person. And being responsible for half their DNA.”
“That’s the easy part for me,” I insist. “A kid could do so much worse than being half of you.”
He drums his fingers against the bar. “Leila, I wish I were the guy you think I am.”
Oh honey, you’re everything. But somehow, he doesn’t believe that. I swallow hard and hold his intense gaze.
He smiles, eventually. “You didn’t quite give meallthe details. Did you figure we’d do this the old-fashioned way? Or with a turkey baster? Because I have opinions.”
Oh God. “Whatever, um, makes you the most comfortable. I don’t have an opinion about that.”
His eyebrows shoot upward. “Really? No opinion at all?”
