The Baby Arrangement. Tara Taylor Quinn
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She was staring at him, clutching the rail, mouth open, looking at him like he’d lost his mind.
He hadn’t. Exactly the opposite, in fact.
He had to do this. He might not want to do it. Didn’t like the messiness.
But he had to do it.
He owed it to Mallory.
“You’re already going to be fighting the fear of another loss,” he said, keeping things practical because he knew that was the only way to get through this. Through any tough situation. “You’ll need all of the reassurances you can get. During your first pregnancy, you worried about the fact that you don’t know your own family history. Knowing mine helped calm those fears.”
She’d closed her mouth but was still staring.
“It’s not conclusive that genetics have any link to SIDS, but we know that there is no evidence of it whatsoever in my family.”
Shoulders drooping, she’d lost all appearance of happiness. Though that was not his goal, it was often the outcome whenever they had a real conversation. Still, he couldn’t drop this.
“There are no guarantees, Mal, we both know that, but I’m as close to a guarantee as possible when it comes to healthy genes.”
After Tucker’s death, he’d had complete genetic testing done on himself, including familial screening, which he’d paid for. The results had shown that he and his family had absolutely no predispositions for any of the maladies such tests could indicate. He’d shared the news with Mallory.
And it had been the absolute wrong thing to do at the time. She’d taken his information to mean that she was to blame for their son’s death.
“We also know that our reproductive environments are compatible.” They’d conceived Tucker the first month they’d tried. “The sooner you conceive, once you start trying, the less stressful that portion of the process will be.”
He saw her blink and took that to mean she was hearing him.
“Further down the road, if the child were to develop an illness or sustain a severe injury, something that needed a blood transfusion or donor of any kind, you’d have both parents to pull from.”
She let go of the rail, wrapped her arms around her knees and looked out to sea. Was she going to turn him down?
“We can get everything drawn up legally,” he continued, figuring that he’d covered all of the bases in his mind since Friday night, and if he just kept talking, he’d allay any concerns she might have. “You’d be the sole parent, just like you want. I’d have no say in anything, no legal rights, no more than any anonymous donor.”
He drew from the thoughts that had consumed his weekend. “It would save you money, as well,” he said. “You wouldn’t have to pay for the sperm.”
Her glance, when it swung back his way, had his heart palpitating for a second. He wasn’t sure why.
“You’re actually suggesting that we have sex?” The sentence ended almost on a squeak. He wasn’t sure if she was offended or simply appalled and shocked.
At least she’d spoken.
“Of course not,” he quickly reassured both of them. Yeah, he’d been cursed with an apparently lifetime attraction to his ex-wife, but she cringed at the idea of sex with him, and there that possibility ended. “I’d leave my specimen at the clinic, but I’d do so as a non-paid donation specifically for you.”
She’d have to pay for the procedure, just not the sperm.
“If you go with IUI your chances of conceiving the first time would be better than with sex.”
Mallory was shaking her head.
“What?”
“Do you realize the mess we’d be making if we did this?”
Sitting on the bow of his boat, her little feet in ridiculously small-looking tennis shoes, the woman made him nuts and peaceful at the same time. Helping Mallory was the right thing to do. Tucker would have expected it of him.
Hauling her downstairs to bed was not even in the realm of possibility.
Nor did he want it to be, anymore. Sex with Mallory came with a whole knotted ball of strings attached.
“That’s the beauty of it, Mal,” he said, glancing over as his fishing line grew taut. There’d be no fish there. He hadn’t baited the damned thing.
He could just imagine being in the middle of presenting his case and having to stop to reel in a slippery, smelly, great-tasting piece of fish.
“We’re in complete control here, Mal, and we’ve got the perfect vehicle. We’ve spent three years building a friendship that would allow the peace of mind you need for this venture. It couldn’t be better if we’d planned it all along.”
“We live on the surface,” she said. “A baby won’t stay there. Nor will all of the emotions attached to having one. I’m fully prepared for that. Are you?”
She wasn’t getting it. “That’s just it! I won’t be emotionally involved. I’ll be going on with my life, as planned, while providing you the means to go as safely as possible on with yours.”
Frowning at him, her eyes only partially hidden by her sunglasses, she said, “You honestly think you can father a child without feeling anything?”
Sure, there’d be some feelings attached, at first probably, until he fully adjusted to the changes in their lives. “No more so than any other sperm donor.”
“They don’t ever know if their sperm is even used, let alone have a relationship with the recipient.”
“Some do.” He’d researched that one. “Men donate to gay women friends. Women are surrogates for gay men friends. I read about a man who donated to his best friend, who was celibate, so he and his wife could have a baby. And a mother who carried for her barren daughter and son-in-law—”
“We were married, Bray. We had a son together. Lost a child together. And you think you can father my second child and just walk away?”
“I do.” He really did. “When I’m ready to have a family of my own, I know full well I can do so. I’ll meet a woman, the desire will be there and I’ll have my family. I’m not there yet. But you’re ready to have your family, and I can help ensure that you have the best chance at doing so happily.” He didn’t waver as he met her eye to eye. The plan made perfect sense.
“I need your support during the pregnancy more than I need the sperm,” she said. “Sperm I can buy. But you’re right, it’s going to be hard. I’ve done all the reading, too, and giving birth after SIDS is hard. Your head plays with you, makes you afraid what happened before can happen again. I blame myself, like my body is broken somehow because it produced a child with a faulty breath regulator. What I was hoping to have from you was the common sense reminders that calm my fears.”
“And you’ll have them.”
“It would be much easier for you to give them with more detachment,” she said, the steady look in her eye and the calm tone of her voice making him listen to her. “Having no intimate involvement will better ensure you getting through this with the least amount of discomfort. You know, if the child isn’t yours...”
“He won’t be mine in an emotional or legal sense,” he said immediately.
She was making a point. He got it. When the kid was born, wouldn’t Braden need a second chance, too?
He shook his head, adjusted his baitless pole. “I’m giving away my sperm, Mal, not becoming a father.” The designation was key. “It’s