thanks a lot. I’m going home now, so you can go too.’
She knew she shouldn’t be snapping at Meryl, but it was as if the pair had formed a conspiracy of some kind. The worst of it was, she knew, very, very deep down inside, that the bombshell he’d just dropped on her could be possible. Accidents could happen in any medical process or procedure—
But not this time! No way!
Maybe back in the beginning of IVF and sperm freezing, but not these days. Surely not.
‘Well, come on,’ she grumped at the bearer of bad tidings, ‘let’s go to my place so you can explain yourself.’
Politeness dictated he help her up but as Max stood and held out his hand, he felt as if he was poking it into the cave of a very hungry grizzly bear. This particular pregnant woman was certainly angry enough to bite.
He eased her to her feet, grasping her elbow to steady her once she was upright, feeling her softness, seeing the deep cleft between her engorged breasts, feeling a stirring that was way beyond inappropriate.
Half of him was unable to stop considering her belly, feeling quite possessive about a child he’d been determined not to have, while the other half of him yelled that this was madness—getting involved was madness. Hadn’t he already figured out that long-term relationships weren’t for him? And what was a child if it wasn’t very, very, very long-term?
He pushed his brain past the warring voices in his head, seeking a little scrap of sanity.
‘Do you drive to your place?’ he asked, worried about her wellbeing after the shock, and wishing he had a car himself so he could take her wherever she wanted to go.
Madness! The angry voice in his head declared.
She turned her head and smiled—well, almost smiled.
‘No, I walk. It’s my daily exercise, walking to and from work, climbing the stairs rather than taking the elevator.’
‘This suite’s on the fourteenth floor.’
The protest was automatic and this time she did smile, stirring things inside him once again.
‘Not here, but at home. You’ll see.’
And he did. Following her up flight after flight of stairs in an old building near the top of the city terrace that provided consulting suites for most of the city’s specialists.
‘I didn’t know these old buildings still had flats in them,’ he said when she stopped at the top of the final flight and pulled out an old-fashioned-looking brass key to unlock a heavy wooden door.
‘Not many of them do,’ she replied, and he realised, as no hint of breathlessness sounded in the words, that she must be supremely fit for someone almost at term.
Inside he looked around with wonder at the high ceilings, the spacious living/dining room, the wide hall with doors that must open into bedrooms off to one side.
And the view!
Drawn to the wide windows, he gazed down at the city spread out beneath, the muddy green-brown river meandering through it, and out to the suburbs, tree-lined streets and red roofs.
‘It’s amazing,’ he said, and this time the smile lit up her face.
‘It’s my family home,’ she admitted rather shyly. ‘Everyone tells me I’m mad to consider living here with a baby, what with the stairs and all, but my mother managed and my father’s mother before her so I don’t see why I can’t. Especially these days when I can do all my grocery shopping online and there’s an ancient dumb waiter the delivery man can use with his loads of foodstuffs.’
She’d walked into the living room and sunk down onto a comfortable-looking lounge, kicking off her sandals and lifting her legs to rest them along the seat.
‘Sit,’ she said, but the word was more a plea than a command. She sounded exhausted and he cursed himself for hitting her with this shock after she’d had a long day at work.
But better him than the clinic, surely?
He stayed standing, studying her, not knowing where to go next in this impossible conversation—not wanting to hurt this woman any more than he already had but knowing the conversation had to continue.
‘Can I get you something? Go out and get us a meal? Or get you a meal? You’re probably far too tired to be worrying about this other business right now.’
She looked better smiling than frowning, he decided as she said, ‘I thought we’d established that there’s no way I can rest or relax until we’ve sorted out what you so glibly call this “other business”! You’re talking about wrecking my entire life here, do you realise that?’
It was Max’s turn to sink down into a chair, where he sighed, then held his head in his hands for a few minutes, then sighed again before looking up at her.
‘I know, and I did consider not telling you at all. I know people have this obsession about truth, but a lot of truth just hurts.’
His face was shadowed but Joey read sorrow in it and wondered just how badly he’d been hurt by some truth in the past. And for some reason beyond her understanding, it hurt her that he’d been hurt.
She really was a mess!
‘I suppose, both morally and ethically, you need to know,’ he acknowledged. ‘But I thought I should come in person—explain in person.’
She couldn’t help the frown that must be causing permanent creases in her forehead.
‘I don’t understand any of this, but I’m assuming you somehow found out, or think you found out, that I was inseminated with your sperm instead of David’s. But the checks and balances at the IVF centre are so complex, it can’t happen.’
‘Exactly what I thought,’ Max told her gloomily, ‘and in case inside that calm exterior you’re raging about yelling and threatening to sue, I’ve already done enough of that for both of us. Problem is I can’t help feeling doctors get a bad enough press without patients suing them so I wouldn’t really like to go that far.’
He’d kind of run out of words, so he looked hopefully at Joey.
Nothing!
He ploughed on.
‘Can you tell me why you used frozen sperm? I know the name on the files when they were finally tracked down was McMillan. That was or is your husband?’
For a moment he didn’t think she’d answer. Her eyes were unfocussed and he guessed she was looking inwards—to a not very happy place if he read her expression correctly.
‘David had a headache. A bad headache.’ She spoke slowly, quietly, offering the words one by one as if each one still caused pain. ‘He was diagnosed with an aggressive, inoperable brain tumour and given six weeks to live. We’d been married a month. I didn’t want him to do the frozen sperm thing. If I couldn’t have him, I certainly didn’t want his baby. I was angry—at him for being sick, and at myself for handling it so badly. Angry at the whole world.’
