Getting Her Back

by Wylder, Penny

  Getting Her Back

  Penny Wylder

  Copyright © 2018 Penny Wylder

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means without prior written permission of the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or businesses, organizations, or locales, is completely coincidental.

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  Contents

  Books By Penny Wylder

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Epilogue

  Books By Penny Wylder

  Books By Penny Wylder

  Filthy Boss

  Her Dad’s Friend

  Rockstars F#*k Harder

  The Virgin Intern

  Her Dirty Professor

  The Pool Boy

  Get Me Off

  Caught Together

  Selling Out to the Billionaire

  Falling for the Babysitter

  Lip Service

  Full Service

  Expert Service

  The Billionaire’s Virgin

  The Billionaire’s Secret Babies

  Her Best Friend’s Dad

  Own Me

  The Billionaire’s Gamble

  Seven Days With Her Boss

  Virgin in the Middle

  The Virgin Promise

  First and Last

  Tease

  Spread

  Bang

  Second Chance Stepbrother

  Dirty Promise

  Sext

  Quickie

  Bed Shaker

  Deep in You

  The Billionaire’s Toy

  Buying the Bride

  Dating My Friend’s Daughter

  Big Man

  Trapped with My Teacher

  My 5 Bosses

  Good Girls Say Yes

  His Big Offer

  Dangerous Love

  The Roommate’s Baby

  Perfect Boss

  Cowboy Husband

  Knocked Up By Her Brother’s Enemy

  Flirt

  Lust

  Claim

  The Wife Arrangement

  Big Mountain

  The Baby Maker’s Club

  Prom King

  The Single Dad Arrangement

  1

  "Are you sure about this?" Ellen asks. "I mean are you really, really sure?"

  "Yes," I say. "I am 100% sure." That's a lie, but I need her to believe me. Because her believing me makes me more sure.

  The app that is open on my phone is giving me a little warning box, telling me that as soon as I hit the button my profile on Heartility will be live. And even though I think I'm ready, I'm still nervous. Even though I could always delete my profile, this feels like something that I won't be able to take back.

  But it doesn't matter. I am going to do this. I want to baby, and if this is the only way for me to get one, then so be it. Steeling myself, I push the button and watch my picture and the few curated lines about myself go flying into cyberspace.

  I don't feel any different. When making big life decisions or having birthdays or crossing some milestone you always think you're going to feel some sort of big change. But I never have. "Well," I say, "that's that."

  Ellen puts her arm around my shoulder and hugs me. "Are you going to start swiping now?"

  That's a part of the rules. Heartility is basically like Tinder but for men willing to be sperm donors. So for that reason, the women have to message first. It's a neat idea, with all the men having been vetted and background checked so there's nobody on the app looking to prey on women, and the fact that they’re actually fertile and able to complete the mission, so to speak. But let's be real, it's all upside for the men. Free sex and no commitment.

  "No," I say. "I think I'm going to need some wine before I do that."

  "Well then, let's go get some wine."

  I laughed. "That's okay, I've got some here."

  Ellen raises an eyebrow. "Are you kicking me out?"

  "Of course not." She stares at me until I give in. "Okay, fine. I am pretty tired. I was thinking about taking a nap before the wine."

  "I can take the hint," she says, laughing. "But I expect full details if you match with anyone, got it?"

  "Got it."

  Ellen gives me another hug, grabs her purse, and leaves. I wait until I hear the door closed behind her and hear steps go downstairs before I pick up my phone again. I feel bad lying to my best friend, but this doesn't feel like a game. I'm picking the potential father of my child, and it's not something I can giggle over while drunk.

  I wasn't lying about the wine though, or about being tired. I may very well take a nap, and I will definitely be a drinking wine while looking through these profiles. Otherwise, I'll be too anxious to make a decision, or even to say yes to talking. But I don't think it would do me any harm to start looking a little bit right now.

  I open the app again and click to the screen where all your potentials are displayed. The first few I say no to easily. I know that this is all about getting pregnant, and that it shouldn't matter so much whether or not I'm attracted to the person. I should be paying attention to their profile and statistics. But if I'm going to be sleeping with this person for any length of time, I have to be attracted to them. I'm making a baby, and I'm not just going to close my eyes and think of England while I do it.

  I've done this a few times over the past year, I know how to quickly evaluate a dating profile. But this isn't that. When you're looking for somebody to be the father of her child, it takes a little bit more time. Every swipe I make has more significance, and so each one takes longer.

  After swiping a few more times, I find a profile that's intriguing. He doesn't have many pictures, and none of his face. But the pictures of his body are to die for. I scroll down through the pictures to the rest of his profile and start to read. He's has a good education, good test scores, and a healthy medical history.

  I'm not sure why there aren't any pictures of his face, but this is the first profile I've seen that checks all the boxes. Taking a deep breath, I swipe yes. I feel more anxious about it than I thought I would. But all I need to remember is that this isn't a sure thing. If I don't like him, I can always say no and find somebody else.

  Heartility opens a message between the two of us, and suddenly my mind is blank. What do you say to a man who you're basically asking to fuck you until you get pregnant?

  But then again, it's why were both on this app in the first place. So I guess I'll just start with the basics.

  Hi, I came across your profile and I liked it. Would you mind talking further?

  I can't think of anything else to say, and I know that I'm just going to stare at the screen until he responds, so I put my phone down. I think I'll take that nap after all. I can't be overthinking things when I'm asleep, though I'm sure my brain and subconscious will find a way to prove me wrong.

  * * *

  When I open my eyes it's darker than I expect. I slowly roll out of bed and open the curtains, surprised that it's fully dark outside. I slept away longer than I int
ended to. I have no idea what time it is.

  Oh well, it's Friday. Doesn't matter that much.

  I pull a sweatshirt on over my head and make my way back into the living room. My phone is still sitting face down on the coffee table, and it feels like it takes up all the space in the room. Did mystery man answer while I was sleeping? And why am I so hung up on whether or not he does? There are plenty of men on Heartility ready and willing to give me a baby. I guess there's something about the first one that seems a little magical. Full of possibility.

  Following my promise to myself, I go to the kitchen and pour myself a glass of wine. Thank you past me for deciding to buy a bottle of my favorite white earlier this week. I take a sip, savoring the dry flavor. Who knows, it may not be too long before I can't have wine for a long time. That thought is both terrifying and exciting, and it gives me the courage to go back into my living room and pick up my phone.

  It's there! There's a notification from Heartility. He responded.

  The notification doesn't show me any of his text, and I have to set my wine glass down on the coffee table because I'm shaking. I open the message thread between us and read.

  Of course.

  What would you like to know?

  I have to think about that for a second. What do I want to know? What kind of questions do you ask a sperm donor? Well, I guess I have at least one.

  Why are you on this app?

  I don't expect a response right away. But suddenly at the bottom of the screen is a little bubble that shows him typing. I take a big gulp of wine and wait. Maybe I was wrong, maybe I should have had Ellen stay for this. He types for what seems like a very long time, until:

  I knew someone who wanted to get pregnant. But her partner wasn't interested, or at least she thought he wasn't. So she decided to do it anyway. I said that I would help her do it safely, and while we were doing research together discovered this app. It occurred to me that I could help other women who were in your position.

  Plus, there's the sex.

  I freeze. That's shockingly similar to my own story. Suddenly the strange magic of the first match comes back to me again. What are the odds of this? I type back quickly:

  Wow. That's very nice of you.

  Right away.

  Well, I do get the benefit of sex.

  That's true.

  Is there anything that you'd like to know about me?

  I think for a second. How much do I want to know about this man? Will it be easier if I know everything about him and then never see him again once I'm pregnant? Or is it better to just have a pleasant and distant memory, some vague and hazy presence. A kind of glowing benefactor in the background.

  He must sense my hesitation because he types:

  We can go out if you like, maybe get to know each other a little bit more before you make a decision.

  I have an immediate thrill that someone would want to go out with me. I haven't had the best luck with that the past, but that's not what this is for, and I don't feel like I'm ready to make that kind of decision right now.

  Let me think about it.

  Sure thing.

  I put the phone down again and take a sip of my wine. This suddenly all feels very real. Almost too real, but no, this is what I said I wanted, and I do, so I'm not going back. I'm going to sleep on his suggestion. Tomorrow, after all the shock and excitement has worn off from actually starting this journey, maybe I'll be able to make a decision on whether or not I really want to get to know him. Until then, I guess he can wait.

  2

  Unfortunately, the morning doesn't come with much more clarity than I had last night. I thought that I would wake up knowing exactly what I wanted, that the answer would fall into my brain overnight like a golden miracle.

  That didn't happen because things like that never happened to me. I’m not the luckiest of people—no matter what I seem to do, there's always something that goes wrong. It's how I ended up here in the first place.

  I try not to think about what happened three years ago, but now that I’m trying to have a baby, it's on my mind a lot. Maybe it's because I never really got closure from that night. Who knows? I can barely make sense of it, let alone my therapist who’s been trying to guide me through it.

  I've always had health problems, and I've always wanted kids. I knew that getting pregnant would be difficult, but it never scared me. And when I finally found Christian, I thought I found my perfect partner with whom to fight that battle. Apparently he didn't feel the same way.

  So now I'm here, talking to strangers in the hopes that they'll give me their sperm. I’m not rich enough to afford a fertility clinic or a traditional sperm bank.

  I applied for a study a few months ago—an experimental research study involving endometriosis and pregnancy and the correlation between them. The study wanted people who were trying to become pregnant and were aware and willing to take on the risks.

  That would've been my first choice, but I never heard back from them and I can't just sit around waiting in vain hope that Christian will suddenly change his mind, that I’ll find a new love of my life, or that the study will accept me. I am ready to be a mother, and if I want that, I have to make it happen for myself.

  By three o'clock in the afternoon I'm no closer to deciding whether or not I should get to know this man. So I text Ellen and see if she wants to meet up for the wine she wanted to have last night.

  She responds immediately with an enthusiastic yes, and soon I’m out the door to our favorite bar, a corner place in Queens just down the street from my apartment. It’s an eclectic mix of antique furniture and modern convenience, that somehow maintains a vibe of a speakeasy. A little illicit, a little edgy, a little romantic.

  I get to the bar first and sit down, ordering a glass of white wine. Ellen is probably going to make fun of me for ordering the wine, but I don't care. White wine is my favorite drink, it's always been my favorite drink, and it will probably remain my favorite drink for the rest of my life.

  I only have to wait a few minutes before she arrives, bursting through the door like the chaotic, lovable hurricane that she is. She practically collapses on the barstool next to me, out of breath, and orders a glass of red wine for herself.

  "Why on earth are you so out of breath?”

  She gives me a look. "You don't ask to go out for wine unless something serious has happened. I practically ran here. What's going on?"

  "I have a dilemma..."

  "Spill," she says. "Right now."

  I take a sip of my wine. "I matched with someone."

  Ellen is in the middle of a mouthful of wine and she practically spits it out squealing, "Tell. Me. Everything."

  There's honestly not much to tell, but I tell her what I can and show her the pictures. He has a good profile, his body is very clearly hot, and so far, he hasn't been creepy in any way. That still feels like I'm evaluating him in the light of somebody who I'm going to date, but I don't have much else to go on right now. Then I tell her my dilemma about whether or not I should get to know him first. “What you think?”

  Ellen thinks for second. "I'm honestly not sure."

  “Helpful.”

  "Well," she says, "I can see both sides of it. On the one hand, it might be nice to make sure that this guy really is who he says he is. And on the other hand, what if you happen to really like him? Then suddenly you're in a relationship instead of having a sperm donor."

  "Yeah," I say. "That's what I'm kind of afraid of.”

  Ellen crosses her legs, still full of energy and practically bouncing on her barstool. She raises an eyebrow at me. "I think you kind of just answered your own question."

  I sigh. "I know. This is just harder than I thought it would be. You know I don't really do the one-night stand thing."

  “It won’t really be that," she says. "I mean, unless you're really lucky you're not going to get pregnant the first time you sleep with this guy. If you sleep with him at all."

  "True.”


  She continues, "Besides, if you meet this guy and you decide you don't like him, or you don't want him to be the father of your baby, can't you just find somebody else?"

  "Doesn't that feel weird?"

  Ellen rolls her eyes. "This is all kind of weird, Audrey. And since it's weird, there aren't any rules. It's not like you're cheating on this guy."

  "Yeah." I take another sip of my wine. "Should I go for it?"

  "I am so not the one to make that decision. No way am I going to decide who's going to be your baby daddy. If you want to give it a shot, then go for it. If you don't, then keep trying for another match."

  "I honestly have no idea."

  She shrugs. "I will say, even without his face in the pictures I would definitely tap that."