Indefinite

by Corinne Michaels

  “You know why he’s this way. You knew it when you started dating him.”

  “And I hoped to fix him.”

  She rolls her eyes. “That could be your first problem.”

  “I loved him enough for both of us.”

  Catherine falls quiet. “I’m sorry, Ash.”

  “It’s fine. I’m done waiting to start my life and have the things that I want. That was the second disastrous relationship I’d been in, and I’m not ready to love anyone else. So, fuck the man, I’m going to get the baby and be just fine.”

  Quinn has been the last three years of my life, but before him, there was Antonio. God, I loved him. I thought he was the one. Everything with us was perfect. We fit so well, complemented each other in every way. I was so in love with him I thought I could never have found anything like him again, and then I met his wife.

  I still can’t think of that without wanting to drive to his house and cut off his balls. I’m hoping she did it for me when she found out. I hate him, but then again, he brought me to Quinn.

  Who I remember I also hate.

  Catherine takes my hand, bringing me to the present. “If that’s what you want, then I support you.”

  I nod once. “It is.”

  “You know, we may actually get to live out our plan if you have a boy.”

  Oh, Lord. “I don’t think either of us should plan to marry off our babies before they’re born.”

  She laughs. “Still. It would be funny since I’m having a girl. If you have a boy, then they can grow up and fall in love.”

  “It would be.”

  I leave to head back to New York in a day, and it feels weird knowing that I won’t be around Cat all the time. She’s married to her big bad CEO husband, Jackson. They’re building an empire, kicking asses, and she’s off saving half of Hollywood from their disasters and rehab issues, so I only see her once or twice a week. It’s just . . . not the same without her.

  Gretchen has moved to Virginia Beach, is engaged to an insanely hot SEAL named Ben, and works for Cole Security Forces. As does pretty much everyone else we know, and then there’s me.

  The lone wolf.

  No boyfriend. No life. Just my job and the love of my city that I will never leave.

  “Ash? What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” I shake my head with a smile.

  “Liar.”

  After almost twenty years of friendship, she knows me, I know her, and we both know bullshit when we smell it.

  “I hate being so far from you. When you left, I always thought that maybe you’d come back. I knew it was dumb because you weren’t going to leave Jackson, but I hoped that he’d bring you back to me. Then I let that go and figured that at least I had Gretchen. Now she’s gone. I’m just sort of lost.”

  She sits straighter. “You are not lost. You’re the only one out of the three of us who has ever been sure of her direction. Now look at you, you’re going to have a baby on your own terms. Seriously, that’s insanely brave.”

  Maybe it is, or maybe it’s stupid. I probably am also the last one who should have a kid, even if I think I’d be a good mom. I know I want children, and I was raised in a house where we always had family around. They were loud, intrusive, and irritating, but I wouldn’t change any of it.

  My cousin, who I used to babysit, is engaged. I can’t take it.

  I wanted a minimum of four kids, but at this rate, I’ll be lucky if I have one.

  “I’m not going to get my hopes up that it’ll work. I know better than anyone else that some women, no matter what, can’t have kids.”

  “Do you truly think you’re going to have issues?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know, but the issues my mom had were hereditary. She is the poster child for fertility issues.”

  “You’re still young. She was older when she tried for you.”

  I laugh. “We’re lying to ourselves if you think we’re young, Cat. I’m the same age she was when she started trying. There were forty-three eggs I lost in the time that I was with jackass number one and jackass number two. Eggs that were probably my best chances.”

  Catherine laughs. “You’ve been counting your eggs?”

  “I’m looking at reality. Those were good childbearing years, which is why I’m glad I froze some.”

  “I still don’t even understand that one.”

  She doesn’t have to. “It’s what I do for a living, and I wanted to know what a woman went through. Then I figured I might as well keep them because I have no idea if I’ve still got any left.”

  I’m being slightly dramatic, but there’s also truth to it. I’m not twenty-nine anymore. I’m getting older, and if I keep putting it off to meet the “right guy” I may have no eggs left. I don’t want to go down the road of IVF. This is really the best option, and seeing how I’m not young and dumb, I can handle it on my own.

  “Well, whatever you need from me, I’m here,” Catherine says, offering her support.

  “I appreciate it.”

  “What happens next?”

  I lean back in the beach chair and let the sunshine beam down on me. “I find me a baby daddy.”

  3

  Ashton

  “Are you sure about this?” Clara, the lead reproductive endocrinologist, asks as we sit in her posh office.

  I never noticed how pretty it is outside of the lab. We’re one of the top infertility clinics in the country, and the lab looks like a damn dungeon. Clara’s office is clean but still soft looking and inviting. The white isn’t stark, and it’s broken up by gold and contrasts of green.

  I make a note to tell my boss I want to makeover the lab.

  “Ashton?” Clara snaps her fingers, bringing my attention back to her.

  “Oh! Yes, I’m sure.”

  “Okay, then. There will be some rules about what you are and aren’t allowed to do regarding the lab work.”

  I nod. “I figured.”

  “I have to say, I didn’t expect you to be on my schedule today.” She smiles, her dark brown colored eyes are filled with amusement and wonder.

  The look on her face when she saw that her three o’clock consultation was me was priceless. I don’t know why she was so damn surprised, though. I’ve always talked about my desire for a family. This wasn’t exactly the route I was planning to take to get there, but life is all about finding a way to pivot.

  There isn’t a question in my mind as to where I should go. Not because I work here and I’m hoping for a very deep discount—our rates truly are awe-inspiring—but because we really are the best. Clara has gone to great lengths to make sure that we are on the cutting edge of new methods.

  Not to mention, I’m pretty damn good on my end.

  “Really?”

  “I know it’s always been your goal to have kids, but it’s been a while since you mentioned it.”

  I sort of gave up on the idea. “Quinn and I didn’t work, I’m done wasting time, you know?”

  “I understand. So, do you have any questions? I know you know the whole process, but on this side, it’s a little different.”

  I have a million of them and even more fear that I won’t be able to conceive. My family may be insanely huge, but I’m an only child. My mother went through hell to have me. It was trouble conceiving, many miscarriages, drugs, tears, and I was a miracle for them. IVF wasn’t advanced at that time, so the fact that I didn’t come out with three arms was a blessing. There was no clear answer as to why Mom couldn’t carry a child, just that her body wouldn’t allow it. While a lot of what we know is heredity, my grandmother had no problems procreating.

  I’ve had this fear that I’ll be like her. I’ve already felt a loss for no real reason.

  Sometimes it’s the one thing we want the most in life that is out of our reach. Immediately, my mind goes to Quinn. I wanted him to give in to his heart and allow us to live our lives together, but that didn’t happen.

  Now I have to live mine.

  “I worry.�
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  “Because of your family history?”

  I nod. “And about the selection of donors. I don’t really know how that part works.”

  She smiles warmly. “We have a great collection of men to choose from. They’re all screened extensively, and we have a lot of safeguards in place.”

  “I know that, I just mean, how the hell do I pick one?”

  Clara leans forward, hands clasped in front of her on the glass desk. “Well, you read their bio and find someone you think has the best genetic traits that you’d like to see in a child. Also, look at their likes and dislikes, weigh it against what you also feel passionate about. This is your chance to find someone who meshes well with you in all aspects. If I had to do it, that would be my criteria. You sort of get to build your dream baby without having to go through the dating ritual.”

  “I wish I could meet them . . .”

  “You and I both know that’s not an option.”

  “I know, I know, I’m just saying it. There’s something about knowing the guy that would make it less . . . clinical.”

  I look away because Quinn sneaks into my thoughts. I wanted so badly for us to have a child. He or she would’ve been beautiful. With his shade of blue eyes and perfect body paired with my red hair . . . I could see the dream so clearly. But that’s all it is, a dream that I created.

  “Have you talked to him?” Clara and I have worked together for a long time. She knows all about my dating woes and Quinn.

  My eyes snap up, and I shake my head quickly. “Nothing. He’s deployed, so I don’t expect to. Plus, we didn’t exactly end things with a promise to see each other again. It was sort of the total opposite, actually.”

  “I was rooting for you guys. I hoped he was going to choose you.”

  “Yeah, me too. The sad part is that, had he talked to me about it, I would’ve been okay. I wanted a partner.” At least, I believe that’s the truth.

  Him wanting to serve our country wasn’t the issue. The broken promises of what he assured me would come if I just waited for him. I abandoned any opportunity of loving someone else. For three years, I did what he asked. I was understanding, patient, flew there when he couldn’t make it to me. Each time, I told myself not to fall harder because it would hurt to leave him. I never wanted to experience what Catherine had when Jackson was shot. I didn’t want to be like Natalie when she thought Aaron was killed. As strong as people think I am, I could never endure loving someone and losing them like that.

  So, I kept my feelings for him hidden from even myself.

  I was an idiot.

  I fell so deeply in love with that stupid man, and now look where I am. Knocking myself up.

  “You’re sure you want to do this now? Do you think there’s a chance you can work it out when he returns?” She smooths her ebony hair to the side and waits.

  No matter how much I wish there could be, there’s not. He would have to admit he has a heart and that it beats, and I’m not holding my breath on that.

  “I doubt it. I’m just ready to move on.”

  Clara clears her throat. “All right.”

  A tear falls, and I feel like an idiot as I brush it away. “Sorry,” I say, shaking off the fresh wave of pain that comes with thinking of Quinn. “I’m happy. I really am. Right now I’m sort of . . . processing.”

  She smiles. “I understand. It’s emotionally straining to even get this far, you know that. The next step is to do a full work-up, exam, and then develop a plan that works for you, okay?”

  Clara is the best. She’s brilliant, beautiful, and has a kind heart. It’s honestly one of the main reasons I continue to work here. We have a very good rhythm and she never pulls punches. If there’s an issue, she tells you and then goes to work to fix it. There’s never any drama and she likes to face things head on.

  There’s not a challenge she won’t accept.

  We’re total opposites in every way, but we are the perfect combination. She grew up in a gang-ridden area of New York City, raised by her single father after her mother took off. Clara could’ve fallen right into the pattern so many have with the violence around her, but she fought against it and earned herself awards and accolades other doctors only dream of. Including being the first African-American woman to earn recognition from both major reproductive organizations in America.

  Having her on my side with this is everything.

  “Sounds great. When?”

  “I have time for the exam now, if you want to get started right away?”

  “Really? Yes! Of course!”

  Clara’s eyes fill with warmth, and I relax a bit.

  The door that slammed in my face has been unlocked.

  It’s not opened yet, but we’re getting there.

  For the last six months, I’ve been in a rut. Now, I know what I want, I have a plan, and I’m going to get it.

  4

  Ashton

  “Ma!” I yell as I enter the house. “You home?”

  “In the kitchen!”

  Our family dinners are the only requirement my mother has of me. She doesn’t care that I moved to New York or that I’m a fancy baby maker. To her, I’m just her daughter, and that means I move heaven and Earth to get my butt in this house on Sunday afternoons.

  Being away at college was an understandable excuse, after that, it was only acceptable if I was traveling. Even then it was a bit dicey because she firmly believes that I should be home on Sundays. However, I don’t actually travel, I only say I do because she exhausts me and I need a break sometimes.

  “Hey,” I say as I enter the room that hasn’t changed since I was six. It still has the dark wood paneling that matches the floor and the drop ceiling that I hate. It’s old, but homey. My parents bought this house from my mother’s parents, and the only update they have done is to install new countertops.

  If it were me, I would’ve gutted the entire house.

  I walk over and kiss her cheek, but when I pull away, she grabs my face. “Look how tiny you are. You’re working too hard and not eating enough.”

  My mother is the best. She’s about four foot eleven and continues to tell everyone she’s really five foot, but we know the truth. Her once brownish-red hair has turned silver, but each week, she’s at the beauty parlor getting it done and covering any of her “glitter.” She also blames me for each gray hair on her head.

  “I’m not working too hard, and I’m not losing weight,” I tell her as I wrap my arms around her shoulders.

  “You need to eat more.”

  “I eat enough.”

  “Look at you,” she says with her Jersey accent thickening. “You’re all skin and bones. Here, eat some bread.”

  I roll my eyes. “I’m going gluten-free.”

  The look of horror on her face is worth it. “You’re what?”

  I fight every part of me that wants to smile and give it away. “I hear it’s bad for you, so I’m not going to eat it anymore. No more bread or pasta,” I say while looking over at the pot. Sure enough, there’s the spaghetti cooking. “I’ll just be eating chicken and vegetables from now on. Do we have chicken?”

  Her lips are parted and she keeps shaking her head. “What are you saying? What about all of this food? You love pasta.”

  “I can’t eat it, Ma. You don’t want me to do anything that would make me sick, right?”

  “I-I—of course not . . .” She pats her hands down her apron. “I’ll make you some chicken.”

  She turns around and now I feel bad. It was funny before, but she looks so sad that I can’t keep this going. “I’m kidding, Ma!”

  She slaps my arm. “Oh, you’re such a brat.”

  I shrug and grab the piece of bread. “I get it from Daddy.”

  “Yes, your father is a pain in my ass, just like you are.”

  “But you love us.”

  “God only knows why.”

  I kiss her cheek again and then sit in the chair. Each week, I offer to help cook and each time she tells
me to sit. So, I’m skipping the first part. This is how she expresses her love, and I love her for it.

  “How are you?”

  “Good,” she smiles. “I went and visited this morning with Mrs. Burke. She misses Gretchen so much. I hope you never up and move on me.”

  My mother and Gretchen’s are very close. Gretchen’s family is as insane as mine and have forced Sunday brunch. I say forced because we don’t get to miss if you’re related to them. When we were kids, I would go to Gretchen’s house and then she’d come to mine.

  “I’m sure you’d survive if I left. But I have no plans to go anywhere.” Not since my love life is in the crapper and I’m going to need my parents once I’m pregnant. I glance around, noticing there are more chairs than usual. “Who else is coming?”

  “Your Aunt Donna and her family, but I’m not sure if your cousins are coming. They’ve been so busy with work.”

  I count the seats again. “Okay, but that still leaves three more even if Vinny and the boys don’t come.”

  She nods. “You never know if someone will pop in.”

  Here we go. My mother . . . the matchmaker. “Mom, who else did you invite?”

  “No one, Ashton.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Oh, fine.” She huffs. “I invited some of the ladies from church, but I doubt they’ll come.”

  I toss my head back, groaning at the ceiling. “And their sons?”

  She stirs the sauce, ignoring me.

  “Mom?”

  “I don’t know if they’ll bring their sons.”

  “Why do you do this to me? I don’t want to date anyone!”

  “Because your mother loves you and wants you to know what it’s like to be euphorically happy in a marriage,” Dad says and then kisses my temple. “Like I make her.”

  I laugh. “Right. You’re such a peach.”

  Mom scoffs. “Yeah, a rotten one.”

  He walks over to my mother, wrapping her in his arms and putting his nose in her hair. It makes me want to cry. They have a love like I can only dream of.