A Xmas Gift: The Sperm Donor (3 page)

“There you go. All fit to be a baby daddy.”

His cellphone on the table buzzes. He frowns.

She flashes him an innocent smile. “Uh oh. Do you have to report back?”

“It’s Abigail.”

Ah, the
girlfriend
.

It’s amazing how much she’s at ease with him. She has almost forgotten how he made her feel – like an old shoe, but in a good way. She can be herself with him. No pretenses. No defenses. No prickly barbed wire fences around her heart.

He scrunches his face at her smiling one and picks his phone up.

“Hello? Uh yeah, I’m at lunch.”

Pause.

“No, I wasn’t aware we had an appointment. I’m with an old friend.”

Pause.

“You’re outside my door? Geez, Abby, we just had lunch yesterday. Some of us do have to work, you know.”

Elise feels like ducking. Uh oh, trouble in paradise. The fact that he can’t really say outwardly that he is in a relationship tells it all. Maybe he should try telling Abigail that. Of course, it’s probably more complicated than what is on the surface, and if he’s ready to tell her about it, he will. No obligations. No prying. That was how they conducted their relationship, past tense.

“Yeah, sure.”

Pause.

“You did what?”

Roll of his hazel eyes.

“OK, I can’t talk for long. I’ll see you later, OK? And I’d really appreciate it if you would call before you drop by next time. Contrary to what you think, I don’t like surprises.”

Elise has to suppress her smile from getting wider. Guilty as charged. Though she does have the luxury of not having seen him for twelve years, so he’s more than likely to be forgiving. It has always been a pet peeve of Justin. He hates anything with ‘surprise’ tagged onto it. Even if it is his own surprise birthday party, as she has found out to her chagrin.

“OK, I’ve got to go now. Bye.”

He rings off and appears somewhat abashed.

“Girlfriend?” Elise inquires mildly.

“We’re dating.”

“We were dating back in the day too,” she says, “and we were pretty much considered girlfriend and boyfriend.”

“I tend to use the word more sparingly now.”

“Oh, would I have qualified according to your present nomenclature?”

“I suppose.”

“Why?” she teases. “What’s the secret qualifying ingredient?”

He laughs. “Let’s change the subject. I didn’t say ‘yes’ yet, by the way.”

“Yes to your girlfriend?”

Grimacing, he motions to the document.

Oh. That.

She raises her eyes to his. She has always been upfront and direct.

“So what do you think of my proposal?” There’s a sudden hoarseness in her throat. She hadn’t realized how much she wants to have his child until she saw him again. How beautiful he was. How successful.

No, she doesn’t want his money, but think of all those incredible, success pathway genes.

He hesitates before replying, “It’s a big decision, Elise. I’ll have to consider it carefully. It’s not as easy as you think.”

“Oh, yes it is. All you have to do is jerk off in a little plastic container. I’ll be the one who does the carrying, the gaining of weight, the actual birthing, the screaming, the recovering, the bringing up baby – ”

“That’s not what I mean and you know it. I can’t just walk away from my own kid. Elise. I can’t just sign a contract giving up all my paternal rights.”

“You’re not giving up your paternal rights. I’m just making it easy for you. You’re welcome to come and see the baby anytime you like.” She places her hand upon his earnestly, and she can see that this gesture is not lost on him.

She says, “I’m not trying to rekindle whatever we once had, Justin. You’re free to marry Abigail or whoever it is you want to marry. I’m merely asking you to donate your sperm so that I can be a single mother. The only difference is that I know what I’ll be getting. I’ll be perfectly happy if you never want to see your child . . . ever.”

“That sounds brutal.”

“It’s no different from a sperm bank,” she argues.

“It is for me. It’s because I’ll know who you are, Elise, and I’ll know my kid is there, right across the Atlantic. It’ll bug the hell out of me.”

She sighs. “So you’re saying ‘no’ to me.”

“I need time to think.”

“OK. I get it.” It’s more complicated for him that she thought it would be. “When can you give me an answer? I can’t stay here indefinitely.”

“Where are you staying?”

“Comfort Inn in Harrow.”

“Harrow. That’s a distance away.”

“It’s only thirty minutes by Tube.”

“I have an apartment . . . I mean a three-bedroom flat in South Kensington. You can move in if you like.” He holds up his hands. “I promise I’ll be good.”

“I think that will prove too complicated for Abigail, if not for you.”

“Yeah,” he sighs, “there’s that.”

“And I can’t stay here forever. Single mothers-to-be have to work so that they can be single mothers,” she points out.

“What do you do, Elise?”

“I’m in advertising. Accounts exec.”

“Great. It’s what you’ve always wanted to do. I’m happy for you.”

“You’re doing pretty well for yourself.”

They smile at each other. A heated memory of her own limbs being entwined with Justin’s comes unbidden to her, and she pushes it back. He’s not yours anymore, she reminds herself, and you don’t want another man anyway. You’re better off on your own. You learned that the hard way.

But Justin is not Leonard
, her inner voice tells her.

He says with regret, “I have to go. Meeting. But what are you doing tomorrow?”

“I don’t know. Since I’m here, I’ll be a tourist, I guess.”

“That’s as good a plan as any.”

They exchange cellphone numbers.

“I’ll call you tonight,” he promises. “I’ll see if I can get some time off to show you the sights.”

She’s surprised. “You will? But I thought you were the busy executive.”

“How often does an old friend come to see me all the way from America?”

She notices he said ‘friend’ and not ‘girlfriend’.

“Trying to let me down easy, huh?” she remarks.

“I didn’t say ‘no’, Elise. Give me some time to think it over.”

He smiles uneasily at her again.

6

Justin can’t seem to get Elise Ratner out of his mind all afternoon. He finds himself reimagining his first sight of her in his office after twelve years.

She stood right there – a vision. It isn’t as if Elise Ratner is particularly beautiful. She’s attractive, yes, and she has gorgeous red hair. Her features and frame were always too angular, her nose too thin. But she has never been anything less than striking. In fact, she takes you aback with your first sight of her like a sucker punch in the gut – she’s that confident – until you start nitpicking and analyzing her every feature.

It hadn’t mattered. Suddenly, every memory of the passion they once shared came rushing back in that very office. He had felt a curious warmth flood his core, and he recognized it as desire, admixed with the youthful love they once shared.

He saw them making love in his bedroom all those years ago. The very first time they lost their virginity to each other. His parents had been out and they were supposed to be studying. Yeah, right. He had been so eager to please her that he had asked Tommy Maloney, the resident bad boy from senior class, to teach him how to pleasure a girl.

He remembered trying cunnilingus on her in his very first attempt. He had been awkward and clumsy and he ended up tickling her and making her laugh. It wasn’t quite the result he was aiming for, but it was a good experiment that served as the platform for him to get better. After that, it could only be uphill.

But oh, they had done a lot in those days of teenage madness. His hormones were raging and so were hers. They seemed to be all over each other like ivy, enfolded in each other’s embrace every chance they got.

Everyone dubbed them ‘DRAPE’ for obvious reasons.

He has just returned to his apartment. No scratch that, flat. Old American terms die hard. But it’s a pretty big flat. There are three bedrooms – one of which he converted into a study. Modern cubist art frames every spare inch of wall. He always did like abstract.

He puts down his briefcase, takes off his jacket, goes to the refrigerator in the kitchen and pulls out a Jim Beam – still thinking about Elise.

He is just about to kick back and relax when the doorbell rings. For a moment, his heart leaps.

Elise
.

He rushes to swing the door open, only to find Abigail standing there, beaming. Try as he may, he can’t stop his spirits from sinking a little.

“Darling!” She rushes into his arms before he can protest, and kisses him.

“Abby, I’ve just gotten home.”

“I know.” She whirls in with her large tote bag. “That’s why I have decided that we should have a picnic on your living room floor.”

He sighs, slightly amused, as she plunks herself unceremoniously down in the middle of his living room. She begins to lay out things she has brought in her bag.

“Come on in and make yourself at home,” he says to no one in particular.

“I went to Harrods today and bought a whole lot of stuff.” She throws out a pretty picnic cloth and takes out goat’s cheese, three different kinds of pate, and a box of crackers. “Do you like cous cous?”

Does it matter?
he wonders as she begins spooning it out of the jar.

She holds out to spoon to him.

“Come here and take a bite.”

He obediently indulges her. Damn, and he was hoping to chill. And then call Elise to see what she was doing for dinner. Something about their situation had made him refrain from inviting her out to dinner outright earlier, but he had time to think about it in the afternoon. And yes, he has decided he really,
really
would like to spend some time catching up with Elise.

“Hmmm, nice,” he says truthfully.

If Abby had a proper job, he reckons she wouldn’t have so much time to spend shopping and thinking of ways to be with him.

“So,” Abby says, her eyes turning shrewd, “Ferngully tells me that you had a female visitor today. An old
friend
, as he puts it.”

OK, Ferngully has got to go. He has to have a word with Thaddeus Morton about it. Never mind if Ferngully has been the PA for the President of Operations since the times of Queen Victoria.

“Elise and I were in high school together. Secondary school for you.”

“Was she your girlfriend?”

Right to the point.

“Yes.” He has no reason to hide, though he can’t help but feel irritated at this line of interrogation.

“When did you break up?”

Gawd, now she wants details.

“Abby, I don’t think – ”

“No, please, Justin. It has been bothering me all day. I’ve had five cups of coffee already just thinking about it, and you know I won’t be able to sleep when I pass my caffeine limit.”

That’s right, he thinks. You’ll be climbing walls, and me along with them.

“She’s an ex-girlfriend, all right? I had a past before I met you, Abby, just as you had a past before you met me.”

“So why is your past paying you a visit out of the blue?”

“She just happens to be in London. Can’t she hook up with old friends?”

Abby’s lower lip wobbles slightly. Oh no, he thinks, insecurity attack coming. This is when he has to get down on the floor with her, reassure her and rain her with kisses, which will culminate in another bout of lovemaking. And he isn’t feeling particularly energized to make love today.

Not to Abby, at least.

She takes a deep breath, as though trying to stay calm.

“Yes, of course I know you had a past. I’m not discounting that. I just want to know why she came to see you after all these years. What’s she doing in London anyway?”

“Vacation,” he lies.

“Have you kept in touch with her all these years?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Then how does she know where you are? How did she get your number?”

“Abby, I don’t know! Maybe she looked me up on Facebook.”

“Are you her friend on Facebook?”

He rolls his eyes. “Stop it, OK? Stop it right this instance. Jealousy doesn’t become you.”

“I am jealous,” she admits, her chin quivering. “But that’s only because I’m madly in love with you, Justin, and I don’t understand why you won’t tell me that you’re equally as madly in love with me.”

Maybe because I’m not, he thinks, wincing.

She goes on, “I just find it amazing that she would want to look you up after all these years unless she has a specific agenda, and that agenda includes getting you back. Who wouldn’t want you? I mean . . . just look at you, Justin. You’re gorgeous, brilliant, successful, and you have an amazing wardrobe for a man. My friends think you’re to die for, and they’re so envious every time I talk about you, which is every chance I get. And – ”