Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
GENEVIEVE
The brewery is bustling tonight with the sort of energy that can only be found on a Friday night in a small town. Every corner hums with laughter and conversation as a mixture of locals and tourists celebrate the end of another week.
There was a time when this town was the last place I’d want to be, especially after Ethan told me he’d fallen out of love with me and wanted a divorce. I hated the idea of returning to the place where I grew up, only for everyone in this small town to talk about my failed marriage behind my back.
All it took was a few days of being back here to realize this was exactly what I needed. I now have a job I love as the head librarian instead of working in an administrative position for the library system in San Francisco. I was even able to afford the down payment on a charming cottage a few miles away from downtown. I have everything I’ve always wanted.
Well, almost everything. There’s one thing that’s still missing.
I fear it always will be now.
“All right, spill,” my sister’s voice cuts through the sound of a classic rock song playing over the speakers.
I dart my eyes back to Claire and furrow my brow as I take a sip of my IPA. “Spill what?”
“You seem off today. What’s up?”
I should have known she’d pick up on that. If anyone could see through my forced smile, it’s my sister.
And Finn.
“It’s nothing,” I exhale, not sure if I’m ready for this conversation, especially in a noisy bar where anyone can overhear.
News travels fast in a small town, and people love a juicy story. No doubt, this would be front-page news tomorrow if word got out.
“You’re a terrible liar,” she snips back, raising her beer to her lips. “Come on, Gen. Just tell me. You know I’ll eventually get it out of you.”
I take a long sip of my own beer, fully aware she’s right. Claire’s like a bloodhound when she’s onto something. She’ll sniff out the truth, whether I’m ready to share or not.
“I’ve been thinking about…having a baby,” I announce.
My sister’s mouth falls open, and for a second, she just stares at me. Whatever she expected me to say, it definitely wasn’t this.
“A baby? As in your own baby?”
“Yes,” I respond, my voice soft but firm.
She blinks, then leans back in her chair. “Wow. Okay. I mean, it’s not that crazy, since you’ve always wanted a family.”
“I don’t know if it’s actually in the cards for me,” I admit.
“Because of…everything?” She waves her hand around, avoiding any mention of my recent divorce.
“No.” I quickly shake my head. “I’ve started looking into the process of artificial insemination. While insurance will cover the procedure once I meet my ridiculously high deductible, it won’t cover the donor sperm. That alone is about two grand per vial.”
“Two thousand dollars for sperm?” she shoots back in disbelief, her eyes wide.
“On average, yes.”
“Damn.” She brings her glass back to her lips.
“And because the success rate for IUI isn’t that great, I could be spending all that money for nothing.”
“Can’t you just do IVF?” Claire smooths a dark wave behind her ear. “Isn’t the success rate for that higher?”
“It is. But because my doctor didn’t find any signs of fertility problems, my insurance company won’t pay for IVF unless I do six rounds of IUI first. Even after that, they’ll only cover half. Essentially, to be eligible for IVF, I’d have to potentially pay upwards of fifteen grand first. Possibly more. I’ve looked into adoption, but being single doesn’t help. The legal fees alone would wipe out my savings.” I push out a long sigh as I swipe the condensation off my pint glass. “I guess I’m just suffering from a bit of sticker shock.”
Claire takes another sip of her beer, the amber liquid reflecting the dim bar lights. “What if you just do it the old-fashioned way?”
“The old-fashioned way?”
“Yeah. You know. Sex.”
“Thanks for the clarification. I know how these things work.”
“Right. So if you want a baby, just get knocked up. No need to spend all that money.”
“There’s just one problem.”
She scrunches her nose. “What’s that?”
“I’m single, remember?”
“So?” She shrugs like it’s no big deal. “Find a guy with traits you like, explain what you’re looking for, and ask him to help you out. No strings attached. He gets to have some fun with an awesome girl, and you get a baby. No need to involve the insurance company.”
I laugh nervously. “That’s insane.”
“It’s practical,” she counters, her green eyes bright with conviction. “I recently read an article about the rise in pre-natal agreements.”
“Pre-natal agreements? What’s that? Like some sort of…contract?”
“It’s not legally binding, but it can be used as evidence if there’s ever a dispute. It’s for situations where two people conceive a child on purpose, but they’re not romantically involved. More and more women are looking into having a baby on their own without the complications of a committed relationship. These agreements set out expectations up front.”
“It would be simpler in theory,” I admit. “And cheaper.”
“Exactly,” Claire says, her voice triumphant. “You have a good job, your own house. Plus, you were raised by a kick-ass single mom yourself who taught us we don’t need a man to do anything we want. You can totally do this on your own. But you won’t have to, since you know Mom and I will help you anytime you need it.” She squeals. “I can’t wait to be the cool aunt.”
“You’ll be the only aunt,” I remind her, trying not to get my hopes up for something that may never happen.
“Even if I weren’t, I’d still be the cool aunt.”
“You certainly would.” I give her a sincere smile, then relax into my chair, contemplating her suggestion.
“So what do you think?”
“It could be the beer,” I begin with a small laugh, “but I guess it wouldn’t hurt to make a list.”
Claire grins and pulls a notepad from her purse.
“It doesn’t mean I’m on board,” I add quickly. “Just that I’m…exploring my options.”
“Now you’re talking.” She flips to a blank page. “What traits are you looking for?”
“Healthy,” I answer without hesitation. “It probably sounds shallow, but I’d prefer someone with decent genes.”
She makes a note in her notebook before returning her gaze to me. “What else?”
“Intelligent. Someone who understands irregardless isn’t a real word.”
Claire laughs under her breath. “Only you would have grammar requirements for a sperm donor.”
I shrug, sipping on my beer. “I can’t stand that word. It’s like nails on a chalkboard.” A shiver rolls through me at the mere thought.
“Anything else?” she probes.
I bite my lower lip and rack my brain. I’ve looked at potential donors in sperm banks, but it all seemed so overwhelming. This does, too.
Thankfully, the beer helps.
“Compassionate. Kind. Gentle. I may not be raising the kid with this person, but I’d prefer him to not be a complete asshole. After all, I am going to have to sleep with whomever it is to get pregnant.”
“True.” She makes a few more notes, then looks up. “Now who should the lucky guy be?” She scans the bar, tapping her pen against her mouth. “What about Mike Stevens? He’s easy on the eyes.”
I follow her line of sight and survey Mike’s muscular frame as he stands against the bar with a few guys he works with.
“Plus, he does construction, so he’ll probably be good with his hands, if you know what I mean.”
“I’m not interested in whether he’ll be good with his hands. Only what kind of DNA he’ll impart to my kid.”
“Should we put him on your list of potential candidates?”
“I don’t know.” I sigh. “All he talked about back in high school was how many hours he spent in the gym that week. While it’s obvious he’s committed to his health, it’s a little…much.”
“Okay. More brains than brawn.”
We return our attention to the bustling taproom, scrutinizing the men we’ve known all our lives. Which is turning out to be more of a hinderance than anything. Because we know who had horrible acne as a teenager. Who picked their nose. Whose locker reeked every time we walked by.
“What about Josh Taylor?” Claire suggests after a few minutes. “He’s a lawyer. Plus, he’s also recently divorced. He has two kids so you know he can get the job done.”
I pinch my lips together as I try to imagine what our baby would look like. He’s not a bad-looking guy, but I’m not overly enthusiastic about the prospect of his DNA. I can’t quite put my finger on why.
“It’s a possibility,” I finally say.
Claire’s eyes light up as she quickly jots down his name on the sheet of paper before returning her attention to the growing crowd.
“How about Carter Wilson? Tall, good-looking, and he has a steady job.”
“True, but he doesn’t read,” I tell her. “When I ran into him after I first moved back and told him I was the new head librarian, he looked confused, then asked why people would read when there was television and social media. I’d rather not pass those genes onto my child.”
“Duly noted.”
As we’re mid-debate over whether Jake Hamilton’s dimples outweigh his strange laugh, a siren sounds and a bright red fire engine drives past the floor-to-ceiling windows of the brewery.
Claire’s eyes widen, and she darts her gaze toward me.
“Oh, no,” I retort immediately, sensing the wheels spinning in her head. “Don’t even think about it.”
“Why not?” she asks innocently. “He checks all the boxes. Tall, good-looking, athletic, smart, and he likes to read. Plus, he’s a firefighter.” A visible shiver rolls through her. “That’s pretty damn sexy.”
“Why don’t you ask him out then?” I swallow a long gulp of my beer, pushing down the jealousy bubbling inside me over the mere thought, even if I know Claire would never do that.
She narrows her gaze on me. “You have to admit it’s a good idea.”
“No, it’s not,” I say firmly.
“Why?”
“Because Finn’s my best friend.”
“All the more reason it’s a good idea. If you’re going to do this, it should be with someone you trust. Someone you know will honor your wishes. We both know Finn would do anything for you. I have no doubt he’d do this for you if you asked.”
I bring my beer up to my lips and sip it. I can’t argue with Claire. Finn probably would agree if I asked this of him. But can I really do that? Can I really cross that line?
“Plus, the sex would most likely be incredible. God doesn’t gift a man with that incredible body and make him horrible in bed. You can’t sit there and tell me you’ve never wondered what it’d be like.”
Of course I’ve thought about it. Probably more than I should have. But I’ll never admit it. Finn has always been one of the few people in my life I can depend on.
I can’t complicate things with him.
Asking him to get me pregnant?
That would most definitely complicate things.
“Finn’s a friend,” I declare. “Nothing more.”
She studies me for several protracted moments, then exhales, scanning the bar once more. I do the same, but my thoughts are no longer consumed with finding someone with adequate DNA.
Now all I can think about is Finn.