Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 53605 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 268(@200wpm)___ 214(@250wpm)___ 179(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 53605 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 268(@200wpm)___ 214(@250wpm)___ 179(@300wpm)
“Your call.”
My call. And it’s a tough one. On the one hand, I’m curious. And I might need to know these things. Medical history in particular.
On the other hand, what if it complicates things with James?
At the moment, the baby’s father is some anonymous sperm donor who was described as a healthy, athletic male in his early twenties with dark hair, brown eyes and no known genetic conditions. But if I find out, then it’s a real person and that just feels different somehow.
Stranger things have happened.
“I’m going to do it,” I say, drawing a deep breath.
“Then do it,” Mason tells me. “Look, you’re clearly going to drive yourself crazy if you don’t.”
I nod. He’s right.
I rip open the flap, and pull out the papers, then start to laugh when I flick through them, drawing out a photograph. “Okay, good one, Mason,” I tell him, narrowing my eyes. “I’m guessing this was your idea, not that asshole Ruterman’s?”
“What are you talking about?”
I have no idea how he’s keeping a straight face. I turn the photograph around and wave it at the camera. “That’s clearly a picture of James when he was a kid. Come on, the jersey he’s wearing says White across the back. I can see it how he’s standing!”
Mason shakes his head. “No, Nancy, that’s the sperm donor.”
“Oh, come on. Joke’s over. Is the rest of this stuff real or…” I sigh as I start going through the paperwork. Eye color, hair color, year of birth. “Ugh, you’re infuriating. This is just stuff you downloaded off the internet. It’s James. Where’s the real information, Mason? This isn’t funny.”
“That’s the sperm donor, Nancy,” he says again, and I glance up. His face is dead serious. “That’s the sperm donor.”
“You’re serious?”
“I would not joke about this. Are you saying this is James? For real?”
Jesus.
As I stare at Mason, one thought enters my head.
James gets back tomorrow. What the hell am I supposed to tell him?
“Nancy?” I hear the door close as James calls out. “I’m home and I’m hard.”
I draw a deep breath to settle myself. “In here,” I say with as much calm as I can muster. “In the family room.”
Turning my head, I see him walk in with such confidence. I take a moment to study him, the way he moves, the way he looks. Who knows when I’m going to get another chance?
“Fucking Wayne Harold,” he mutters, his nose turning up in disgust. “Fucking Wayne Harold got wind about us and he’s been using it to try to fuck me up. Fuck up my chances at captain with coach. I cut my knuckles on his teeth when he said I was fucking my sister in front of some reporter--”
“I need to talk to you.” I say, ignoring the mention of his teammate.
“What’s wrong?” he says, starting to frown when he sees my face. “Baby, did something happen?”
He rushes next to me, dropping to his knees in front of the sofa and starting to stroke my thighs as he stares into my eyes. I can’t do this to him. But I have to.
“Please, I just need to tell you something, then ask you something,” I say, swallowing the dryness in my throat.
“Baby we can talk about anything. What happened? Whatever has upset you, I’ll make it better. Just tell me.”
I take his hands in mine, then reach behind me for the manila envelope. When I place it in his hands, he just stares at it.
“What’s this? Is it… Is this from a doctor? A lawyer? Are they charging you? Mother fuckers I’ll go pay them a visit--”
I shake my head. “Mason gave it to me. James, we need to talk about what’s in there. You need to see it, and I’m afraid because…” I steel my nerves. “I don’t want to lose you.”
“Lose me?” He laughs, shaking his head. “You’ll never lose me.”
“You say that now but… Open the envelope.”
He frowns as he does just that. “Whatever Mason says in here, you know it doesn’t make a difference to you and me. Baby, you’re mine. You’ll always be mine. From now until forever.”
He turns the envelope upside down just like I did, and I almost flinch as I watch the pieces fall out.
And then he stares at me.
“What is this?”
“It’s what it looks like. I’ve checked all the pieces and it fits. Everything fits.”
“But…”
I nod. I know the emotions he’s going through. The denial, the confusion. I felt exactly the same when I read it all. As I watch him flick through it, I talk. Because what else is there right now except to talk? “Mason was always into sports. Way more than me. Hockey. He loved hockey.”
I laugh as I remember it, despite how nervous I feel. Those times at school when he would tell me about names and stats. He could predict the outcome of games pretty accurately, even back then, but that was Mason. Always the brains, always analyzing and predicting and making connections nobody else could see.