One Year Husband

Chapter 1

LANEY

I scrolled past another photo of a smiling couple on the fertility clinic’s website. They were on the homepage, happy as clams as they cradled their newborn and grinned at the camera.

Like all their dreams had just come true.

Meanwhile, I clicked on the FAQ tab for the fourth time. I wasn’t trying to conceive. I didn’t even have a love interest, let alone a boyfriend or husband to conceive with . But one of the company’s other services interested me.

The server brought my mimosa and I thanked him with a distracted nod, eyes still fixed on the phrase elective egg freezing. My eyes narrowed on the words as I took a sip of my drink.

God, it makes it sound like I’m storing Chinese takeout leftovers instead of my future.

I looked up, desperately searching the sidewalk outside in the hopes that my best friend was almost here. Gwen was late to our weekly, post-Pilates brunch date. Of course, she’d pick today to be late.

While I was wrestling with the idea of choosing a potential baby-daddy from a short bio, she was probably still drenched in sweat—or dealing with angry students—depending on how the last class had gone.

I picked at the crust of my chocolate chip muffin, trying not to look like someone about to make a major life decision over brunch.

Finally, the cheerful jingle of the bell over the café door rang and Gwen strode in, all toned limbs, glossy brown ponytail, and the confident gait of someone who’d conquered a whole morning of Pilates classes and a couple of minor customer meltdowns.

“Sorry. I’m so sorry,” she said, sliding into the seat across from mine.

“One of the newbies thought ‘hot Pilates ’ meant, like, a spicy vibe. I had to explain that it was hot-hot . As in, sweaty pores and inner thigh regret. Honestly, the girl looked like she was personally offended by her own perspiration.”

I managed a weak laugh, and immediately, Gwen narrowed her eyes.

“Okay, what’s up?” she asked. “You’ve got that face.”

“What face?”

She sighed. “The face you had when you told me Megan got a matching tattoo with a guy she’d met at that music festival the night before.”

I winced. “Ugh, don’t remind me about that. It was a freaking horrible time for the whole family, but no. For a change, this isn’t about one of her stunts.”

I didn’t blame Gwen for thinking my cousin had been up to her usual craziness, though.

Megan had proven time and again there was nothing she wouldn’t do for views on social media—not even filming herself drunkenly getting inked up with some lime-haired raver whose name she hadn’t even known.

It was probably Spike. Or Axel. Or something that started with an X.

Unfortunately, her legion of followers ate it up like toddlers who’d found a hidden stash of candy—and as long as they liked her videos, she would keep making them. Usually, I really didn’t judge. I couldn’t.

Not while I was here, potentially choosing the biological father of my child over cheap sparkling wine with a dash of orange juice from a box. But Megan really didn’t always make the best decisions in her pursuit of internet fame.

Gwen arched an eyebrow as she looked at me, her head slightly tilted. “Okay, so if it’s not her, then what’s that face about?”

I took a breath. Okay. Rip off the band-aid and just say it. Here goes nothing.

Looking right into her eyes, I blurted out the truth. “I’m freezing my eggs.”

She blinked, suddenly staring at me like she wasn’t sure she’d heard me correctly. “You’re… what now?”

I straightened in my seat. “I’ve been researching clinics and I’ve booked a consultation at one with excellent reviews in LA next Thursday. I’ll be there anyway, so I figured I might as well go ahead and do it.”

The words hung between us like a fart on a first date—surprising, awkward, and slightly unsettling.

“But why now?” she asked, her tone gentle but confused. “I know you want to be a mom someday, but there’s no rush.”

“Isn’t there?” I asked, but I didn’t wait for an answer. “I’m twenty-nine and a half, and that half is screaming at me that the clock is ticking, and ticking, and ticking. It’s like I can hear the minutes counting down.”

She shrugged. “So just ignore it for now. That’s what I do.”

“I can’t.” I exhaled a deep breath. “It’s time to take matters into my own hands. I thought I’d be married by now. That I’d have a baby. Maybe even two, but instead, I’m living in the house I grew up in with my dad and I haven’t been on a date in at least a year.”

Gwen’s eyes softened. “Well, I mean you could’ve gone on many dates if you didn’t spend every waking moment at work.”

I groaned and threw a sugar packet at her. “You’re the worst.”

“I’m not.” She bent down to pick the sugar packet up off the floor.

I braced for her to throw it back at me, but she just slid it back into the holder on the table between us.

“I just don’t understand why this is suddenly so urgent.

You deserve real love, not a cold, sterile clinic where they extract your eggs and mix ‘em up in a cocktail shaker with the jizz of a guy who came into a cup over a forty year old porn mag.”

“That’s a horrible way of looking at it.” I grimaced. “Seriously, thanks for that.”

Gwen sighed and reached across the table to squeeze my hand, dark brown eyes blazing with seriousness.

“Look, I know you want a baby. So do I, but is this really how you want it to happen? Because if so, then you know I’ve got your back.

A hundred percent. I’ll even go to the appointment with you and we can spend next Saturday getting day drunk and picking your ideal sperm donor. ”

My heart gave a weird little clench/leap thing at the question and I groaned.

“Okay, so it’s not exactly a dream come true, but what other choice have I got?

I’m the partial owner of a baby supply store, which means the only men I meet at work are either already becoming fathers or grandfathers .

I can’t quit and find a new job, because again, I’m an owner and it’s my family business.

I can’t just up and leave, so what am I supposed to do? ”

“Smack some sense into your cousin,” she suggested mildly. “It’s funny how you’re the one putting in all the effort while that vapid wannabe influencer owns the majority share of said family business and hasn’t worked there so much as an hour in her life.”

“I know, but I’m handling everything just fine by myself.

Honestly, I prefer it this way. Do I wish Baby Blossom was mine and mine alone?

Sure, but it’s not, and she could overrule me if she was actually interested enough to do it.

At least this way, I get to do whatever I want without her trying to pull rank. ”

“She wouldn’t know how to pull rank if it hit her in the face.” Gwen reached for her mimosa. “The only thing she knows anything about is followers, likes , and going viral . It’s pathetic.”

I chuckled. “She’s not that bad. In fact, she’s been sounding a lot more mature lately. She’s even taken more of an interest in the business after I told her I want to open a second brick-and-mortar location and that I want it to be in LA.”

Gwen frowned. “That doesn’t sound like her.”

“I know, but that’s why I’m saying she’s been getting better,” I explained. “I’m hoping that she’ll take control of the LA store. Then I can promote Anna from salesgirl to manager of our store here while I focus on the new website to expand our online sales.”

“Do you really think Megan will do that?” Gwen asked. “A store is a massive responsibility. You’ve got to be there all day, every day, from opening up in the morning to closing time at night.”

“If I’m being honest about it, then I’m not sure, but it sounded like she was onboard. I’m heading over there next week to scope out possible store fronts and I’m hoping to talk to her about it more while I’m there.”

“Wait, that’s why you made an appointment at a fertility clinic in LA?” She groaned. “You’re even letting Megan influence where you’re going to have your baby made?”

I shook my head. “Nah, it’s not that. Out of all the clinics I’ve researched, this one seems the most promising and I was planning on heading over there to scout locations anyway, so it felt like it was meant to be.

Plus, they can also do the IVF if I choose to go through with it and have a baby on my own. ”

One small appointment for woman. One giant leap for mimosas and proactive reproductive planning.

She sighed, doubt shining in her eyes as she looked back at me. “Don’t you just want to give the dating apps a try before you go balls to the wall with this egg-freezing thing? You never know who you might meet on there.”

“But that’s just the thing, isn’t it? Given your track record with those things, we know exactly who we’ll meet on there,” I said. “Besides, I want a man, not a boy. Have you met any of those on the apps?”

She shook her head and smirked. “Definitely not, but I’m still holding out hope that my dream guy is out there somewhere. In the meantime, I’ll have my fun on the apps.”

“Sure, he’s out there, but are you going to find him in your phone? Personally, I’d like to meet my dream guy the regular way, but that’s just never going to happen, so fertility clinic it is.”

She rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t argue the point. Gwen had tried every app in existence multiple times and all they had delivered so far were creeps, catfish, and unsolicited dick pics of the kind of dick that should never be in a pic.

“Fine.” She blew out a heavy breath. “Do you want me to come to LA with you for moral support?”

“Thanks, but you can’t leave your studio for a whole week. Who would tell all the Brittanys out there what hot Pilates really is? I’ve got it covered. Promise.”

Especially now that Megan was finally taking an interest in the business. Despite still living in LA full time and doing her influencer thing, she’d asked a lot of questions when I’d pitched the idea for a second location.

“Okay.” Gwen didn’t seem convinced at all, but she rallied. “As long as you’re sure this is what you want, I’ve got your back. Just let me know if you need me while you’re out there. I can always come kick your cousin in the shin if need be, or hold your hand while you talk to the sperm doctors.”

I chuckled. “Thanks, but I’ll be fine.”

For the rest of our brunch, we got caught up on everything else that had happened last week, and by the time we said goodbye outside the café, I was feeling… okay. Better than okay.

Maybe, just maybe, I didn’t need to have all the answers right now, but I could still do this. I could be a mom. The thought made something flutter in my chest, but it wasn’t panic or fear.

I think it’s excitement. Or maybe indigestion. Hard to say after a couple of mimosas and a chocolate-filled muffin.

Halfway home, I heard it. Just as I was crossing the street, the sun catching on my sunglasses and feeling like I was finally on the right track.

There was a honk. A screech. A scream—in retrospect, that might’ve been mine.

A shiny, blacked-out BMW tore through the red light, missing me by inches.

My heart nearly exploded through my chest. My purse flew out of my hands as I stumbled back, landing right on my ass with a jarring shock shooting up my spine.

Everything that had been in my purse sprayed across the intersection like confetti at a party.

I sat there on the hot blacktop, stunned, with drivers honking around me and pedestrians gawking, and then another car—sleek, silver, and terrifyingly expensive—jerked to a halt beside me. Like, inches away.

Watching with my head feeling like it was floating above my body, the door opened and out stepped him .

The guy was tall and slim, built like an Olympic swimmer. Neatly styled dark hair framed a face that made my ovaries do the Macarena, unnervingly blue eyes staring at me from above cheekbones that could cut my insecurities about my future in half.

My breath caught for a whole other reason this time, my mouth suddenly completely dry.

He wore a perfectly tailored charcoal suit that moved with him as if it had been stitched on as he crouched beside me, scooping up my lip balm and a rogue tampon like it was no big deal.

Just another thing to be doing on a sunny Saturday morning.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice deep and clipped like he was well-educated. An aristocrat or something like that.

“I think so,” I breathed, wondering if I’d knocked my head and had ended up hallucinating. “That car came out of nowhere.”

The Savior of the Rogue Tampon handed me my keys, his fingers brushing mine, and I nearly passed out at the sensation of his fingertips scraping against my own.

He helped me gather the rest of my purse chaos, and for a second, his eyes met mine and they lingered there.

Does he feel it too? This intense connection out of nowhere?

He’s going to ask for my name. Perhaps offer me a ride or kiss me passionately on the side of the street and whisk me away on a whirlwind romance.

Instead, he pushed back up on his feet, brushed off his hands, and looked down at me like I was something he’d almost stepped in, those blue eyes so icy cold that a chill ran through me despite the warm sunshine.

“You should really pay more attention,” he said coolly. “Cars are dangerous. Do try to keep that in mind.”

And then, he just turned and climbed back into his Rolls-Royce, I realized when I finally recognized the logo on the front. The door clicked shut like a punctuation mark on my dignity, and the engine purred as he drove away without a backward glance or another word.

I stood there for another beat, then gathered my battered ego and got off the darn street. That hadn’t been the start of something wonderful. It was just a reminder that I didn’t need a man to start this chapter of my life.

“What a jackass,” I muttered as I tried to put the whole episode behind me. That guy might’ve spoken like a prince, looked like a porn star, and smelled like leather, money, and all my shattered dreams, but he’d been no better than those creeps from the apps.

But seriously, Bonnie Tyler was correct back in the eighties. Where have all the good men gone indeed.