Chapter 8
I
t’s about time you made the time to get in here. I swear doctors make the worst patients.”
Sloan clenched her teeth as her OBGYN probed her uterus. “I know. I’m always taking care of my own patients. I can’t remember the last time I took a personal day to take care of myself,” she said.
“Well, everything looks functional. Ovaries look good. Fallopian tubes are healthy. I do see a cyst,” she informed.
Sloan came up on her elbows, trying to see the monitor.
“There, you see the circumference?” Dr. Adams asked.
“Will I need surgery?” she asked. “I can clear my schedule to take care of it immediately…”
“You’re the patient. I’m the doctor,” Dr. Adams reminded her, chuckling.
“If you’re thinking about transferring embryos, I’m not super enthusiastic to cut and disrupt your uterus.
We’ll monitor it and see if the body re-absorbs the fluid.
You can come back in a few weeks, and we’ll see what the body does naturally.
If it grows, then we’ll begin to talk about surgery.
I’ll perform the pap and do the breast exam, and you should be good,” Dr. Adams said.
“How much of a window do I have to utilize the eggs we extracted?” Sloan asked.
Dr. Adams withdrew her probe and rolled away from the exam table, turning to wash her hands while Sloan sat up.
“Well, you froze your eggs early enough to give yourself a great chance to have a successful pregnancy. I will say that pregnancy is hard at your age, but science is truly advancing to where women in their 40s, and even into their late 40s, are having success bringing a baby to term. It’s my personal belief that it’s much easier on the body, and safer for you, if we figure this out over the next two years. ”
Sloan felt so much pressure.
“This would be so much easier if there was a man in my life who wanted to do this with me. How do you balance your career with your family? You were lucky, Dana. You met your husband in medical school. I want a baby so bad. I can’t see myself not experiencing motherhood, but I’m not even dating anyone. ”
“There are other options, Sloan. There are plenty of sperm donors,” Dr. Adams advised sympathetically.
“That feels unnatural. It already feels like a science experiment, but not knowing my child’s father?
Not being able to tell my child where they come from or having a co-parent to lean on?
It just doesn’t feel right,” she said. Her voice broke as she became lost in overwhelm.
“I just waited too late to think about love and children. What if it never happens for me?” she cried.
“There are all types of families. Families aren’t just nuclear anymore. Stop subscribing to some tradition in your head. If you want a baby, have one. I can recommend a place that has a higher percentage of Black donors if that’s important to you,” Dr. Adams said.
Sloan nodded.
“I’ll think about it.”
Dr. Adams handed her some brochures on In vitro fertilization and gave her a reassuring smile.
“Let me know. I’m here to help. The nurse at the front will get you checked out.”
Sloan cleaned up and made her way to her car.
She wasn’t in the mood to be around anyone, but she had a full day ahead of her.
They were driving an hour north to go to the Christmas Tree Farm.
They were meeting at Shy’s house, and she was already running behind.
Thank God she was already dressed for the occasion in the outfit Shy had demanded they all buy.
She prayed the gold foil Moncler ski jacket, Louis Vuitton winter boots, and black tights kept her warm.
Sloan was cute as fuck, but she feared they would freeze while traipsing through the snow.
She took the hour’s drive to Shy’s house.
When she pulled up, she marveled at the opulence of the mini-mansion in front of her.
She hadn’t been to Shy’s home since she had purchased it a few months ago.
Shy had insisted on waiting until her housewarming to show it off.
She climbed out of her truck, noticing that everyone else had already arrived.
Sloan grabbed her gloves, the bottle of tequila she had been tasked to bring, and her handbag, then rushed up the walkway.
She rang the doorbell and could hear the jovial noise inside, but no one came to the door. She picked up her phone and called Shy, but the voicemail picked up. After trying Ellie and Courtney to no avail, she turned the doorknob and eased her way inside.
“Damn, influencer money must be good,” she whispered in awe as she admired the home.
“Umm, hellloooo?” she called out as she walked inside and peeled off her coat. “So ain’t nobody hear the doorbell, huh?”
When she rounded the corner, she paused, shocked that there were cameras rolling and a room full of people. She had thought it would be just the girls, but a full social media crew was present, as well as everyone’s families.
“Heyyy! Bring your late ass over here, girl! We got to get this content!” Shy said, waving her over.
“Not y’all got a full photoshoot going on right now,” Sloan said. “I’ll let y’all have it.” Sloan went around the room, greeting everyone.
“Hey, Papa,” she greeted Ellie’s dad. She kissed both of Ellie’s girls and spotted Cassidy. She frowned when she noticed the young girl he was talking to but didn’t bother interrupting.
“No, bitch, you hopping your fine ass in this picture. When we old and gray, memories are all we’ll have,” Shy stated.
“Okay, okay,” Sloan said as she walked over to the 15-foot Christmas tree. “Shy, this house is fucking everything. It’s huge! You not scared up in here by yourself?” she asked.
“Girl, no, my ass be in here naked with my wine glass and my music cranked to ten, enjoying the fruits of my labor,” Shy bragged.
“Girllll, what labor?” Ellie exclaimed, cackling. “You take pictures all day.”
“It’s harder than it looks,” Shy teased, sticking out her tongue. “Ain’t that right, Lola?” Shy motioned for her assistant. “Oh, Sloan, this is Lola, my assistant. If you need anything, just ask her. She’ll take care of it.”
“Aww, baby girl, poor you,” Sloan snickered as she realized the girl who had Cassidy’s attention was on Shy’s payroll.
“Bitch, I pay my assistant good. She ain’t complaining!” Shy defended.
“I’m happy to help, y’all,” Lola said, laughing.
“Girl, blink twice if you need help,” Ellie joked. Shy even had to laugh at that one.
Shy pointed a finger at Lola. “You better not bat an eye!”
The crew was on ten, and it felt like old times when they would talk shit all night at a Friday night sleepover. Only now, they were grown women with much bigger problems than boys and hating opponents.
“Where’s Court?” Sloan asked. “I thought for sure I was gon’ be the one holding us up.”
“Her phone’s going to voicemail. Her house is on the way. The sprinter can just hop off at her exit, and we’ll pick her up,” Shy stated. “Let’s finish getting these photos, though.”
Sloan posed for a good ten pictures before she grew tired of the attention.
“Okay, that’s enough for me, I’m pouring wine. Shy, where you keep your bottles?”
“In the pantry,” Shy stated.
Sloan went to the pantry to retrieve a bottle.
She was present, but at the same time, she wasn’t.
Her mind was still on the information she had been given at her doctor’s appointment.
She poured herself a full glass of Pinot Noir and then took a seat at the island as she opened her phone.
Her browser was already open to articles about In vitro fertilization.
It was all she could think about lately.
She sipped from her glass and tapped her short fingernails on the side of the cup as she read the article.
“Is everybody good on drinks? I used to bartend. I can make anything you like,” Lola said.
Everyone put their drink orders in except Cassidy, and Lola sashayed over to him. “What about you? Can I do anything for you?” Lola asked.
“Nah, I’m good,” Cassidy stated.
“Are you sure? I literally make the best drinks,” Lola persisted.
Sloan glanced up from her phone and rolled her eyes.
“Oh my god,” she mumbled under her breath.
She understood Lola’s attraction. Cassidy was the type of man you noticed at first glance.
He couldn’t be missed, and masculinity floated in the air around him.
He was humble yet confident all at the same time, but he was also a grown-ass man. Lola was barely legal, and it showed.
“I guess I’ll take a drink. Something dark,” he said. “You can make mine neat. Remy XO if she has it.”
“I got you, handsome,” Lola said. She was eager to serve him, and as bad as Sloan wanted to hate, she couldn’t.
She would serve that nigga, too, if she was Lola.
Lola walked into the kitchen and Sloan surveyed her from head to toe.
She was a stunning girl. Titties sitting.
Her body was young and tight. She had the na?veté of a girl exactly her age.
She was young and dumb, and Sloan’s old ass felt ancient next to her.
“I’m making drinks. Would you like anything?” Lola asked.
Lawd, why she got to be nice, Sloan thought. She gave Lola a fake smile.
“No, I’m good with my wine, thanks.”
She watched as Lola poured Cassidy’s drink, and when she was done, Sloan said, “I think he likes it with a little Coke. Shy usually keeps a case in the garage. “You want me to go grab one?”
“Oh, no, you’re a guest. I got it. Thanks,” Lola said.
Sloan waited until Lola was out of sight before she took Cassidy’s drink to the pantry and grabbed the vinegar she had seen inside.
She added it to his drink and returned it to the countertop before returning to her own drink.
Since he wanted to be sweet to this young-ass girl, she was going to spoil all that shit.
She didn’t even know why she was hating.
She just was, and she was unapologetic about it.