15. Harle
HARLE
R adio silence. Definitely the best option. You can’t say that sort of shit to the woman you’ve been donating your sperm to for months and think she’ll be okay about it. Jesus fucking Christ.
I slouched on the couch, the room dark except for the faint glow of the muted TV. The cold beer in my hand did nothing to cool the burning in my gut. Cassidy’s face flashed in my mind. Her green eyes wide, her lips parted in shock. Fuck.
“I want to fuck you .”
The words echoed in my head, taunting me. Real smooth, Harle. Stellar move.
I took another swig of beer, grimacing at the bitter taste. My phone sat on the coffee table, silent and accusing. I should call her. Apologize. Try to salvage whatever was left of our arrangement. Friendship?
I reached for the phone, then pulled back. What the hell would I even say? ‘Sorry I told you I wanted to bone you. Can we go back to me jizzing in a cup for you?’
Christ.
My thumb hovered over her name in my contacts. One tap and I could hear her voice. Maybe she’d laugh it off. Maybe she’d tell me to go to hell.
I tossed the phone aside and drained the rest of my beer. The silence of the house pressed in around me, broken only by the occasional hoot of an owl in the tree outside my living room door.
Cassidy deserved better than this mess. Better than me complicating her life when all she wanted was a baby. I’d promised to help her, and instead I’d gone and fucked it all up with my big mouth and bigger libido.