Chapter 2
DEXTER
She must have anticipated the silence, because she stands and rushes back to the bar, without asking if I need another drink too. Which I do. Badly.
“I’ve thought this through,” she announces, casual as if she didn’t just drop a grenade in my lap, eyes skimming the bottles on the counter. “You know my dad took off when I was a kid. Mom raised Shelby and me solo.”
“Yeah?” My voice sounds hoarse even to me. My brain’s still buffering.
“But it worked.” She grabs a bottle of her favorite organic apple juice. “We were happy. Mom wasn’t around much, she worked constantly, but Shelby and I had each other. We turned out fine. Right?”
“Right.”
“I didn’t miss a thing. Sure, Mom had a boyfriend eventually, but that wasn’t until much later.”
“And?”
That’s all I can get out. One-word replies. It’s all I’ve got right now. The rest is caught somewhere in my chest. Even if someone put a gun to my head, I couldn’t string a full sentence together.
Luckily, Holly’s not asking for a TED Talk.
Just my sperm.
“That’s why this makes sense.” She fumbles with the cap, knuckles whitening as she tries to wrench it open. “My sister has three kids. I know what I’m walking into.”
Three?
Wait. She wants three children from me?
That does it. “Hold up. How many babies are we talking about here?”
“One, Dexter. Chill. I just want one.”
I exhale. Some small, panicked part of me unclenches. “Go on.”
“I’m in my mid-thirties, with no romantic relationship on the horizon. You know I’ve always wanted kids, but after all that happened with Dean, I’m finished with love. I just don’t trust men anymore.” She keeps fumbling with the cap, teeth sinking into her bottom lip. “Seriously. I’m not joking.”
Finally I push up from my chair, cross the space, and take the bottle from her hands before she shreds her skin on the cap. I don’t ask, just crack it open in one smooth twist and set it back in front of her.
Her eyes lift to mine, signaling thanks, and she sets her jaw. “You’re the only man in my life, the only one I’ve ever been able to count on. I want you to be the father of my child.”
As thrown as I am, it also hits me somewhere else.
It’s not every day a woman says she wants your baby.
And not just any woman. Holly.
I remember the way that waste of space she married fucked her up. How he broke something in her that took months to piece back together.
And now she’s here asking me.
Not because she’s desperate. Because she can rely on me.
I’ve never really seen myself as a dad. Never even let the thought stick for a second. But with her, I don’t shut it down right away.
She turns and pours the juice. I don’t know if it’s on purpose. Maybe she needs a second. Maybe she doesn’t want to see what’s written all over my face. I give her the space.
When she finally slides a glass across the table, her hand looks calm enough, but the tight set of her shoulders gives her away. She’s waiting, and she’s nervous.
We both take a sip, looking at each other.
Apple juice. It’s cloudy, unfiltered. No preservatives, artificial flavors, or added colors. It’s just apples. If you ever tasted one next to a cheap concentrate-based juice, you can tell right away. Not the burn I wanted, but it’ll do. God knows I need a clear head for this.
“Aside from the obvious,” I say, “what exactly are you asking from me?”
She sets her glass down. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, you’re asking for full involvement, right? Or just the… contribution?”
Her gaze loosens, but her tone stays firm. “Why wouldn’t I want you in the kid’s life? You’re my best friend. You’d be their father. But I’m not going to trap you. I know how you are with contracts. I’ll sign whatever you need. I won’t ask for money, or anything.”
“Holly, I know that.”
“I’m just saying, you wouldn’t have any obligation.” She takes another sip of juice. “I’ll be in London. You won’t even have to deal with any of it if you don’t want to.”
Her wording is pretty specific. But it still leaves one very obvious thing unaddressed.
“So…” I raise an eyebrow, teasing, “we’re doing this the old-fashioned way, not in a clinic?”
She immediately shakes her head. “No, not a clinic. I’ve spent a lot of time looking into IVF.
I know how many women rely on it, and I have nothing but respect for that, for the strength it takes.
For me, though… if I have the chance to do this with someone I trust, in a way that is natural, I want to try that first.”
Whoa.
I blink once.
I wasn’t serious. Throwaway line, nothing more.
But the look on her face? She means it.
She’s talking about sex. Actual… sex.
We’ve never kissed. Not even a peck. Never cuddled. Hell, we barely hug unless it’s New Year’s or someone’s had too much tequila.
And now she wants to go all the way?
Then again. After what I saw earlier tonight, maybe we’re not that far off.
“…and no, I’m not letting a nurse tell me when I’m ‘ready’ while you’re off somewhere making a… ‘deposit,’” she adds, still mid-rant.
Deposit. That’s what she calls it? I watch her, catching only the back half of what she just said.
“Don’t look at me like that. I heard myself too. Yes, deposit. And before you ask, trust me, you do not want to know the other phrases my brain tried to serve up. We’re moving on now, thanks.” Her voice dips, quieter. “Dexter, I know I don’t say this a lot, but… you’re important to me.”
Our eyes lock. There’s something tender behind hers.
“I know it’s a big ask. You don’t have to decide now. Take all the time you need.”
I know she’s always wanted a child, and yeah, she’d kill it as a mom. But she’s leaving the country, just when Shelby’s world is upside down. Hell of a time to do this.
I’ve got a dozen questions. Most can wait.
Two can’t.
“I admire you wanting to go it alone, but are you absolutely sure about this? I don’t want you to regret not waiting for the right person.”
She doesn’t hesitate. “You are the right person. It’s either you or a donor I’ve never met. I’m doing this either way. I just really… want it to be you.”
She’s dead serious, and her words land. Because the thought of her doing this with someone else? Doesn’t sit right. At all.
I meet her eyes—those hazel eyes that have been part of my life longer than I can measure. What I see isn’t desperation. It’s hope, it’s resolve. It’s her whole heart laid bare.
I let out a slow breath.
“One more thing’s bugging me, Holly.”
She straightens a little. “What?”
“You’re thirty-six. Not old, but not exactly young for a first-time mom.”
“Well, aren’t you a real charmer?” She already knows where I’m going.
“If there’s even the slightest risk for you,” I say, “my answer is no. Nonnegotiable.”
“I spoke to my doctor. It’s true, the risk of complications rises after thirty-five, but a lot of people have kids after that. I’m in perfect health and—”
“Not so fast.” I hold up a hand. “Tell me more about the risks.”
She lays it all out. Every medical issue, every possible complication, calmly and clearly. She even argues how the pros outweigh the cons. She’s done her homework.
I’ll do mine.
I’ll read more on the plane and spend the next couple days triple-checking that a pregnant Holly would be safe.
“If we do this, I’m not sitting on the sidelines. A kid deserves two parents.”
“That’s a yes, then?” she asks, her smile wide, hopeful.
“It’s not a no.”
Holly’s eyes grow huge, and there’s a suspicious gleam in them. “Seriously? It’s not a no? I was fully prepared to hit you with a PowerPoint presentation. I even filled a whole page titled ‘Why Dexter Would Make a Surprisingly Decent Baby Daddy.’”
“Oh, you made a list? Now I have to see it.”
“Eh… no.” A confident smile tugs at her lips. “Looks like you’re good to go.”
We’ve thrown lines like this at each other for years. But now, after everything that’s been said, (and everything I saw earlier), my body’s reacting in a way it never used to.
I down the rest of my apple juice.
“Speaking of—how and when?” I get up.
“All I need is one night.”
I stop in my tracks. “What if you don’t get pregnant the first time?”
“Oh, that won’t be an issue,” she says, waving it off as she stands.
“Mom got pregnant first try, with both me and then my sister. Same with Shelby. Fertility runs strong in our family. Chances are I’ll be knocked up by round one.
And I didn’t think I’d have to tell you how it works.
You took sex ed. You know where babies come from. ”
“Oh, sure. Ask me for my… most prized possession and then insult me.”
Just when I think she didn’t catch that I upgraded her word choice, she lifts her eyes, giving me a look that translates to, Seriously? That’s the phrase you pick? And you honestly think that’s an improvement over “deposit”? That’s such a male thing to say. I’m choosing not to encourage you.
“You really know how to win a man over,” I add.
“And yet,” she says, “you’re still here.”
I check the time—shit. I’m late. “I’m still processing. Give me a couple of days.”
That little smile of hers doesn’t falter, and she looks at me with genuine excitement. “That’s better than I expected. I was sure you’d say no.”
“I might.”
“Call me as soon as you’ve decided.”
I loop my arm around her shoulders and pull her into a quick hug, rare enough between us that I feel her stiffen for half a second before she leans in. Tonight calls for it.
“I’ll be back before you know it.”