Chapter 33
Chapter Thirty-Three
Summer
In the kitchen, I was contemplating the bombsite Rosie had left in the wake of her meal prep. Don’t get me wrong, I loved the results, but I was a big fan of cleaning-as-you-go. This was not it.
Hatch walked in, closing the door behind him. He looked so handsome that I turned away, tired of being blinded by his beauty. I had never thought it would be so hard to sit across from someone. All I wanted was to eat my tacos in peace.
“You okay?”
“Of course I am.” My body’s reaction to him put me on the defensive, and my next words sounded prim. “Can I help you?”
“Volunteering for clean-up.” He gave me a cheeky salute.
“I’ll rinse and you load the dishwasher,” I commanded.
“Yes, ma’am.”
A few moments passed in silence while I sought neutral ground. “Franky’s quite the character, isn’t she?”
He grinned. “She is. She was a steady fixture in my life when I was a kid because I hung out with Rosie a lot. She used to babysit me and Addy and show us snails in our backyard.”
“That’s cool.” At his casual mention of Rosie, I thought back to their interactions tonight.
They had been chatting together in the kitchen during food prep, and their dynamic was easy throughout dinner.
No sign of a crush on either side, but was that definitive?
I could bring it up with Hatch, but what if Adeline was right and he was truly clueless? I wouldn’t want to embarrass Rosie.
All the more reason why I should stay out of his gravity-sucking orbit.
He moved closer. “I’m sorry that people keep bringing up Carter. You probably want to just forget about it.”
“It’s not so bad. Everyone has an interesting take, most of which paint him in a poor light, which I’m strangely enjoying now that he’s shown his true colors.
I don’t think I understood how much people disliked him, and how isolated my life was as a result.
” I paused a moment to gather my thoughts.
“When I needed bridesmaids, I realized I barely knew anyone, even after four years working for the Rebels. But I’d always liked Rosie, and she was happy to help.
Picking at least one person in my wedding party felt like a small thing I could control. I know that sounds pathetic.”
“No, not at all. Rosie and Addy are great people to have in your corner. And other people want to be your friend. You’re not alone, Summer.”
I peered up at him, feeling an earth shock of emotion with those words. He had a knack for getting to the heart of the matter, and right now I felt vulnerable to anyone who showed me a drop of kindness.
“Thank you.”
“For?” He raised a cheeky eyebrow.
“Not for that.” Would I ever stop thinking of orgasms in his presence? “Okay, yes, for that. But mostly, for being there for me.”
He stroked my cheek, and I felt myself melting into him. Again.
“I will always be here for you.”
On the door opening, we jerked apart. In walked Franky. She pushed back her glasses, as if needing to get a better look, but made no comment as she opened the fridge and refilled her glass from the Brita filter.
Threading his arms over his chest, Hatch leaned against the counter. “What’s going on with you and Jason?”
Franky paused mid-sip, lowered her glass, and instead of answering, cleared her throat noisily.
Hatch cocked his head. “And that means?”
She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ve always subscribed to the viewpoint that if you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all.”
“Have you though?” Because it was clear Franky had no problem voicing her thoughts, warts and all.
She merely smiled, Sphinx-like, and sipped her water. Before Hatch could press the issue, Rosie called out his name, asking him to settle some argument, and he headed out with a secret smile at me.
Franky remained, regarding me with what I could only term as an analytical air. I had to admit being fascinated by this woman and her hot takes on Dash’s personality deficits. All night, I’d wanted to ask her a single burning question.
“Why snails?”
No hesitation, she replied with, “They helped me get through my parents’ divorce and my father’s alcoholism.”
“Wow. Not quite what I expected to hear.”
She chuckled. “I was a nerdy kid and while everyone else was into butterflies and Barbies, I was fascinated by snails and slugs. I especially liked their little houses. Some therapist would probably say I was looking for a stable home amongst the disintegration of my family life.” She smiled at me. “That therapist would be full of shit.”
I cackled. We’d met a couple of times at Rebels gatherings, but I’d never had one-on-one time with her. She was quite the tonic.
“So you and Hatch, huh?”
Scratch what I said about enjoying this woman’s direct takes.
“We’re friend-uh-ly.”
She hummed. “Rosie used to like him, and possibly still does? Not that it should dictate your behavior, but it might be wise to discuss it with her before you proceed. As a courtesy.”
“There’s nothing to proceed on. Or with. We’re not—there’s no future there.” I sounded flustered—and guilty. “I’m focusing on my career.”
Something like sadness touched her eyes. “That’s what I said and look at me now.”
Before I could interrogate that cryptic statement, a screech went up from somewhere in the apartment. It was soon followed by thunderous footsteps and the appearance of a wild-eyed Rosie in the kitchen.
“What have I told you about putting snails in the bathtub?”
Franky pushed back her glasses. “Don’t?”
“Precisely. There’s one on my shower curtain and now I’m going to have to burn it.”
“Washing the snail mucin off the curtain with soapy water will remove any harmful parasites,” Franky said, a touch cavalierly, I thought.
“Parasites?” Rosie held up a dramatic hand. “Could you deal with your pets?”
“They aren’t pets. They’re—”
“Franky!”
“Okay, I’ll take care of it.” Franky inhaled a deep breath and headed toward the door. “Wish me luck.”
“With the snails?” I asked, because that sounded a rather fatalistic approach to your life’s work.
“Actually, I’m going to ask Sean to be the sperm donor for my child.”
I exchanged horrified looks with Rosie, who shut the door to the kitchen and snapped, “Are you kidding?”
“That’d be a strange thing to joke about.”
“You’re going to ask him? This minute?” Rosie whisper-screeched.
“Yes, this minute. That’s why I’m here. Well, I did have research to do in the area, and I love your tacos and most of the company, but it coincided with Sean’s visit from Boston, and I realized that this would be as good an opportunity as any.”
Rosie flicked a glance at me, then at her sister. “I know you and Sean have been friends forever but … a baby?”
I had an equally important follow-up. “Are you in love with him?”
Her expression indicated that was complete nonsense.
“No, I am not. Sean and I are friends, but we are not compatible in a romantic way. I’m not sure I would be compatible with anyone, but I do want to have a child.
After much deliberation and analysis of the data, I’ve concluded that Sean would make the most likely donor. ”
She took out her phone and opened what looked like a spreadsheet. Excel on a tiny screen was a pain in the ass, but I could tell she had put work into it.
Rosie moved to her other side and said the obvious. “Those are mostly Rebels players.”
“All the single ones,” Franky clarified. “And a few more men of my acquaintance. Academics and the like.”
“But you said athletes aren’t the most evolved,” I said.
“No, but I don’t need that in a donor. That trait can be learned, nurtured. I’m mostly interested in a donor with good genes, no history of disease, and an easygoing temperament. A stud, in the animal sense. Sean meets those requirements.”
Okay. “Do you mind me asking why you’re doing it this way?”
Rosie cut in. “Summer’s right. You’re a super interesting woman, smart, capable, and funny as hell. Don’t you want to meet someone and raise a baby together?”
She answered with no hesitation. “As clichéd as it sounds, my biological clock is ticking. I’m thirty-eight years old.
Even if I met someone today, it would take months, maybe years to develop the relationship to the stage a child was in the picture.
Plenty of women manage this alone. I have the resources and the desire. I just need the genetic material.”
I took the phone from her and looked the list over. Each candidate had comments beside them, such as “good plus-minus” and “arthritic grandparent.”
Hockey and health stats as your baby batter criteria?
I noticed Hatch wasn’t on there, possibly because he was too close to her family.
(She had once been his babysitter, after all.) He was also younger, and this list skewed toward candidates in the thirty-plus range.
Jason Isner was on it, but struck through—the only player who was, with the single, damning footnote: “Temperamentally unsuitable.”
“Dash is single again. You could put him on here.”
“I don’t think he would make a good candidate. Likely, his family would require complex paperwork to ensure any child of the union doesn’t have a claim on the Carter family fortune. Plus, no offense, Summer, he’s a Grade-A jerk.”
None taken. It sounded like she had really thought this through.
“Why are you asking Sean tonight?”
“He’s going back to Boston tomorrow. I’m prepared to fly out there for insemination visits, but I’d prefer to discuss the details in person.”
Rosie grasped her arm. “Insemination visits? Like sex?”
Franky shook her head. “I’ll be using what’s commonly referred to as the ‘turkey baster’ method. But I need the donor material to be hot off the presses, so to speak.”
“I think you’re amazing,” I said.
She blinked. “You do? Most people would view it as odd behavior.”
“Rather than waiting for something to happen, you’re going for it. It’s so brave.”
Rosie nodded. “It is. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
Franky smiled indulgently. “This is purely a business arrangement. No feelings involved whatsoever, except my case of baby fever and the maternal ones I’ll have for my progeny.” She pocketed her phone. “I’ll take care of the snails, then attend to the other.”
Rosie gave her a hug. “You can leave the snails until later, if you like.”
Once she left, Rosie looked at the door, her gaze thoughtful. “I wish guys could see her the way I do.”
“She’s lucky to have you for a sister.”
“I’m the lucky one. She and Kat—that’s my other sister—have always been there for me. Our family is an unusual blend, but I’ve never been in any doubt that I had these people on my side.”
“Seems to be a lot of that with the Rebels. The tight family connections, a network of support you can always rely on. It was one of my favorite things about being part of the org, even though I was witnessing it from the outside. Going to the events, seeing how close you all are, it was lovely.”
Rosie’s expression radiated sympathy. “And you thought you’d have that with Dash?”
“If Dash was better at making friends, maybe. But he’s always seen himself as a cut above everybody because of how he was raised. Not even a team as warm as the Rebels could draw him in.”
“Yeah, they’re the best. It’s like having a million aunts and uncles and cousins—even if you’d rather it was more.”
Did she mean Hatch? I was about to ask for clarification when we heard the front door slam shut.
“That doesn’t sound good.” Rosie opened the kitchen door and stepped into the corridor.
Sean stood there, looking shell-shocked.
“Did you know she was going to do that?” he asked Rosie, with a quick glance at me as if I might have put Franky up to it.
“You better not have been a dick, Sean!”
“I wasn’t. At least, I don’t think I was. But shit, I can’t do that for her. It’s too much to ask.”
Rosie and I shared a look, a mix of solidarity with Franky and sympathy for the predicament in which she had put Sean.
“Listen, I’ve got an early flight to catch,” Sean said. “Thanks for dinner, Ro. And if you talk to Franky, could you tell her I’m sorry?”
Rosie grunted, though I wasn’t sure if it was agreement or disapproval. We watched him leave, then Rosie turned to me.
“There’s always another episode of R-drama waiting around the corner. Still want to be part of the Rebels fam?”
“It’s never boring, that’s for sure.”
Rosie smiled and gave me a hug. “You don’t need Dash. You’ve got us—me, Addy, and the rest of these reprobates. Now you’re a member of the crew.”
I could feel my eyes welling. “You guys are the best.”
Though I wondered how they would feel if they knew I had jumped into Hatch’s arms—literally—so soon after jilting my fiancé.