Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Evan
“Are you sure?”
The look on her face tells me that it was a fucked up question. She doesn’t answer immediately because why the hell would she.
She looks like I took her heart and ran over it with a bus. Why the hell didn’t I approach this conversation with the same tact I use when talking to my patients?
“My ex-husband and I tried to have a baby for years.” She takes a deep breath. “We tried everything and the doctors finally got us both to accept that I’ll never conceive.”
It’s not my area of expertise but I know that some of the best fertility specialists in the country call Manhattan home. I’m tempted to ask for the name of her physician, but it would do me little good.
I’m a fucking doctor who is well aware of the ethics of patient confidentiality.
The fact that she was married catches me by surprise. She has to be a few years younger than me and marriage isn’t even a mirage in my distant future yet.
“You have nothing to worry about.” She pushes back from the table and stands. I see the unease in her hands when she reaches to pick up the cup of tea. “I’m not pregnant.”
I’m relieved. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t, but I’m also curious about her history.
I walked into this café worried shitless that I was about to become a dad. Now, I want to know why she was so desperate to become a mom and who the fool was that let her slip away.
“I need to get to work now.” She puts the tea back down. “I’m not thirsty anymore.”
“Chloe,” I say her name before I realize I don’t know how to handle what just happened between us.
“I can’t be late.” She turns to her side. “Thank you for being honest about the condom. I’m sure there are a lot of guys who would have just disappeared.”
Maybe. If there are men like that, they deserve a punch in the groin.
“You had a right to know. “ I stand too, unsure if my legs are going to hold my weight. I feel anxious and confused. I don’t know why I want to hold her, but my hands are aching to reach for her to pull her close.
She nods. “I’ll see you around.”
I don’t respond. She’s damn right that she’ll see me around. I want to erase all the pain I see in her eyes. Something tells me that there are more secrets buried below the surface that she’s aching to share.
“I thought you were on top of your game, Evan.” Jack leans back on my sofa so he can rest his feet on my coffee table. “You didn’t have a condom so you borrowed one from a guy who never gets laid?”
I laugh aloud. “He’s gotten laid at least twice that I know of, but I assure you I’m not counting. He had a condom in his hand when I was desperate for one. You would have taken it too.”
“Probably.” He shrugs as he draws a pull from a bottle of beer. “Remind me again why we aren’t at the hockey game?”
“You gave your tickets to me and I gifted them to the couple who live down the hall from me. “
“Christ, I’m a nice guy.” He chuckles. “Why did you feel the need to give away more tickets that I’ve paid good money for?”
“The two guys who live down the hall got married over Christmas. They’re working their asses off to get through med school. I know that drill so I gave them the tickets so they could at least have one night of fun.”
“I’m not going to say you’re wrong for doing a good deed, but I’d like to sit my ass in one of those seats at some point this season.”
I turn on the television and flip through the channels until I land on the game. “Besides, we can watch from the comfort of my home. What’s better than that?”
“A toast to the fact that you’re still kid free.” He holds up his bottle in the air. “Here’s to dodging bullets.”
I raise my bottle too. Jack doesn’t need to know that Chloe can’t conceive. I left that detail out when I told him that she’s not pregnant. I wouldn’t have mentioned it at all, but I made a frantic call to him last night after Jordan filled me in on his broken condom.
“Let’s hope we avoid the parent trap for years.” Jack tosses me a smile. “I know I’m not ready and there’s no way in hell you should be parenting a kid.”
I don’t argue that point. I barely have my own life in order. A baby is the last thing I need.