by Jamie Knight
I looked into his eyes and the depths of his soul and knew his words were true.
We would be together forever.
Alex, me, and the baby of his that was growing inside me.
THE END
My Doctor’s Secret Baby
A Virgin and Billionaire Romance
His Secret Baby series Book 6
Copyright © 2019 Jamie Knight Romance.
Jamie Knight –
Your Dirty Little Secret Romance Author
All rights reserved.
Chapter One
Anne
This man is right around the perfect height to pass down his genes to my baby, but he has a crooked nose.
That man’s eyes are too close together.
What if my cute little child ended up having pointy ears like this guy? I might as well pick an elf to father my child!
As I clicked through the photos on the screen, none of the candidates seemed right, and I was getting to the point where I didn’t really care. I just wanted them for one thing, after all: their baby-making goods.
Choosing a father for a child is always one of the hardest decisions ever, no matter the situation. This was true for me, as it undoubtedly is for everyone, back when I was dating and considering going the traditional route into marriage and parenthood. And now it was even harder, since I was going the IVF route: in vitro fertilization.
I had wanted a baby for a long time, so I would look at whatever man I was dating and think, “Would he be a good potential mate? A father for my baby?”
Sadly, I’d barely ever found one who was a good potential for a second date, let alone a good candidate with whom to procreate!
I tried giving a few guys a second chance but that only led to drama or heartache.
You would think there would have been some big event that caused me to swear off having a baby the traditional way. But it was more like a series of annoyances.
Finally, with my biological clock ticking louder than ever and no good potential baby daddies in sight, I just got tired of waiting for a knight in shining armor to rescue me in the baby-making department. I had decided to take matters into my own hands.
So, there I was, in my office, looking at potential fathers for my child on a website that looked similar to a dating website. (But good thing it wasn’t, as I was so very sick of those).
Except, instead of swiping right to be matched with someone whose interests included long walks on the beach followed by awkward dinner conversations about his favorite basketball team I knew nothing about, I was supposed to choose the stranger whose looks, IQ and other attributes would make the best match for my child.
“You’re still considering going through with this?” asked my friend and colleague, Judy, as she walked into my office and saw what I was working on.
She set a file down on my desk. I knew she had come to talk about a case we were working on together, but that she found my current personal issues to be more exciting.
“I am. In fact, I’ve already started the process. Why not?” I asked her, a bit defensively, ready with my reasons I presented to everyone who questioned my crazy idea. “I’m not getting any younger and I certainly haven’t found Prince Charming. I also have plenty of money saved up thanks to being a billable hour drone for this firm for so long…”
“Tell me about it,” Judy laughed, quickly changing the subject. “But no worries. I wasn’t asking so that you would have to defend yourself once again. I was actually curious because I read an article about IVF, saying that the good old-fashioned ‘turkey baster’ method might be worth trying first. So, have you considered IUI before IVF?”
“IUI?” I asked, looking at her skeptically.
How had I not heard of this?
I had been to a fertility clinic a few times and started the process of hormones to prepare me for IVF. But no one had told me about IUI.
Did Judy even know what she was talking about?
“Yes. Intrauterine insemination,” she said. “That’s what the article called it, anyway. Here, I’ll shoot you the link to the article I was reading.”
She glanced down at her phone, typed something into Google and then shared the article with me, which quickly popped up in a private message from her to me via our firm’s inter-office messaging system.
“Hmmm,” I said, quickly scanning the article, determined to study it more in depth later when I had more time.
“Yeah, it said that this method has fallen out of favor but it’s been making a resurgence because it’s cheaper than IVF and it’s all some couples… or, um, people wanting to get pregnant” – she quickly corrected herself, realizing I was not part of a couple – “need. Especially when there is no history of medical reasons necessitating intervention.”
“I see,” I told her, seeing that a quick skim of the article revealed that her information was correct.
“There’s some hot shot doctor here in New York who brought the practice back, and is making bank because of it,” she said. “I think they said his name is Ted Roberts.”
Sure enough, I saw a sentence saying that Dr. Ted Roberts believes it is best for a patient to try this method first before progressing to IVF if necessary. His technique had become so popular that he was putting other IVF clinics out of business and had expanded his business by establishing clinics in several other cities that he oversaw and managed, while continuing to practice primarily out of his first New York City office.
“That’s awesome,” I remarked, impressed that Judy had found this article for me. “Thanks. I might have to switch to this guy instead of the place in Larchmont I’ve been going to.”
“No problem,” she said, with a shrug. “It came up on my Google feed and I naturally thought of you and just had to read it, because I’m nosy and overly involved in other peoples’ business like that.”
I laughed.
“Speaking of being nosy, which one of these handsome guys are you going to choose to be the father of your baby?” she asked, peering over my shoulder at the pictures of the potential candidates on my screen.
“I don’t know,” I told her, with a sigh. “I kind of don’t care at this point. It gets exhausting. I want to just play ‘einee, meanie, miney, mo’ and pick one at random. These guys have all been vetted by the cryobank and I don’t really want to know too much about them, besides what they write up in the profile, and I know that’s a lot of puffery. Any old guy will do, as long as his sperms are good swimmers, if they’re going to be injected inside me via a turkey baster.”
Now it was Judy’s turn to laugh.
“I always get Cryobanks and cryptobanks confused. All I know is one is full of bitcoins and the other is full of sperm,” she said, and we both laughed even more. “But in any event, I find it hilarious that they’re online now, and you can just browse through these potential bio dads like personal ads.”
“Well, only after paying a lot of money,” I pointed out. “It’s not like this is made available to the general public like Craigslist is.”
“That’s true,” she said, nodding in agreement. “But maybe going to see this super successful Dr. Roberts could save you some cash, even though it sounds like you’ve had to spend a pretty penny already.”
“Maybe,” I told her, already excited about the prospect.
I didn’t really like the clinic I’d been going to, anyway. I had done all the screening questions and pre-op work and they’d referred me to the Cryobank to choose a sperm donor, but I found the whole process to be impersonal and sterile.
Plus, the doctors there always seemed disapproving when they learned I was trying IVF voluntarily, rather than after a string of failed pregnancies or a long history of attempting to get pregnant with no luck.
I meant no disrespect to women who were there for those reasons. I just wanted to be respected for being there for my own. And I didn’t always feel that same level of respect from the staff.
This other place sounded different.
Clearly
, it had gotten popular by a belief that all options should be explored.
And that sounded right up my alley.
“I’m really going to look into it and try it out if I can,” I told Judy. “Thank you again. Sincerely.”
“You know I’ve got your back,” she said, with a grin.
Then she slid the file across my desk, pushing it closer to me.
“You can repay me by helping me figure out how to write this winning brief that Masterson wants by tomorrow, in a completely unwinnable case.”
“Ugh,” I groaned, knowing that Drake Masterson was one of the most demanding partners at the firm. “He’s always doing that to us.”
“Tell me about it,” she said. “I’ve been racking my brain and researching on LexisNexis like crazy, but I could really use a sounding board and to hear your thoughts on how I could possibly convince Strater to rule for our client here.”
“Oh, my God, Judge Strater is deciding this?” I asked.
“Yep. It’s just my unlucky day, I guess.”
I knew where she was coming from. Sometimes I felt like every day was my unlucky day. At work, as well as in my personal life and especially when it came to dating or wanting to have a baby.
But enough about me. I had talked to her about my own problems long enough.
“Okay, it definitely seems like you need some help,” I told her.
I was still excited about this new prospect for trying to get pregnant, but I knew it was time to focus on work. Still, I wanted to keep the ball rolling on my never-ending quest to getting myself artificially inseminated.
The next step to getting another appointment at my clinic was choosing a donor. I could ask for a referral to this turkey baster clinic the next time I was there, but they required a donor selection before I could go back.
I randomly chose the first guy I saw who had green eyes that matched my own and clicked on the link underneath his profile with determination.
‘Are you sure you want to select this donor?’ the screen asked me, forcing me to click ‘Yes’ again.
So, maybe it wasn’t as easy as just swiping right.
But it was nearly that easy, I thought, as I saw a message saying, ‘You’ve been matched with this donor. Your next appointment will be emailed to you from your clinic.’
“Alright,” I told Judy, as I exited out of the website before Masterson or another mean partner could come in and see what I was up to. “Let’s figure out a crazy argument that will win this case for you.”
“You’re the best, Anne,” she said, with a big smile on her face.
“No, you’re the best, Judy,” I told her, thinking about how I couldn’t wait to try this new method she’d told me about. “I mean it.”
Chapter Two
Anne
“So,” said Dr. Roberts, entering the room after knocking softly. “I hear you’re ready to have a baby.”
He sounded more excited that I felt in that moment. His face lit up like he was a gameshow host. I didn’t quite match his level of enthusiasm, but he did make me chuckle a little.
I pulled the hospital gown tighter across my curvy frame. I had always been teased as a kid for being fat and wondered what pregnancy would really be like.
Would my stomach blow up even bigger, like a giant balloon?
Would my hands, feet and ankles swell, like the horror stories I’d heard from some friends of mine who had needed to go on bed rest before delivering their babies?
“Do I need to start from the very beginning, going over a brief history of IVF? Or have you already read up on the necessary information? I see that this is your second visit with us, but your first time seeing a doctor.”
He gingerly fingered my file that had just a few sheets of paper inside of it. His kind, dark eyes focused pointedly on it.
“That’s right. This is my first visit to see you and have this actual procedure done, yes, but I was referred here from the Larchmont clinic I was going to and I actually started the hormone process for IVF with them,” I explained. “I already picked out the donor… uh… samples…”
“Samples?” asked Dr. Roberts, as if pretending to be confused. “Oh, you mean the sperm?”
He chuckled.
I could feel my cheeks turning bright red. I was beginning to question my decision to be here or, at the very least, started to wonder if he would be the right doctor for this procedure.
He was not like any other doctor that I’d ever seen. His bedside manner seemed to involve being playful and charming. Not to mention the fact that he was totally hot.
The article that Judy sent me, which I’d studied a lot at home, had not included a photo of him. But in real life, he looked just as amazing as his resume sounded in the article. He had dark, curly hair, dark brown eyes and looked like an athlete.
I really shouldn’t be attracted to my fertility doctor. I knew this, but I figured that I was already here and obviously he must know something about the process, so I dismissed the thought.
“I also had the consultation here with your clinic, as you mentioned,” I told him, getting back to business so as not to let my lustful thoughts interfere with the purpose of this appointment. “As I told that nurse, I’m excited to hear of and to try your method instead of having to do all the other stuff, maybe.”
“Yes, it is definitely what most of my patients find appealing,” he said. “Of course, it doesn’t work for everyone and I’m sure they went over the odds and the risks and all of that during your consultation and check-up. But do you have any questions?”
“Nope,” I said, shrugging. “Other than, when can we get started?”
My heart pounded, ready to finally try to have a baby.
“Right away! Can you lean back and put your feet in the stirrups here?” he asked, gently touching two metal arms which hung out from the ends of the table.
I leaned back and closed my eyes.
I could hear him fiddling around with some instruments.
“Go ahead and open your legs, please,” he instructed, his soft, globed fingers grazing the inside of my thighs.
I took a deep breath and did as I was told.
He eased a piece of cold plastic inside me, stretching me open as he clicked the device into place. I jumped, not expecting to feel so exposed.
But considering the fact that I had never even had sex, I shouldn’t have been so surprised. It had been embarrassing to have to inform both fertility clinics of that little fact.
Who the hell tried to have a baby when they had never before even had sex?
Me, that was who.
I couldn’t help it, though. I hadn’t wanted to give up my virginity to just anyone, and I hadn’t found the right guy – or even a semi-right guy – and after a while, it simply became easier for me to keep holding onto it. It had started to become like a part of my identity or something.
I figured it was a good thing, since I wouldn’t be distracted with dating or sex when I became a mom. There would be plenty of time for that later, when my child was in school and perhaps I ran into a single dad in their class.
I needed to turn off my brain, as it was going a million miles a minute. I was relieved when, after a few seconds of shining a flashlight inside of me, Dr. Roberts took it out.
“So, tell me more about your fertility history. I know you did the whole run down with my clinic and your last one, and I glanced at your file to make sure you were in the right place” – with this, we both chuckled – “but I have to admit I have a lot of patients and I find that the best way to remember what’s going on with each of them is simply to talk to them.”
“That makes sense,” I told him, even though I was not looking forward to having to go through all the embarrassing details again.
I was sure that if I had more traditional circumstances for winding up at a fertility clinic, I would have appreciated the time and concern he was showing for my exact history and situation. He really did seem like a good doctor, and I was g
rateful for Judy once again.
Not to mention that this procedure was a third of the price of the IVF I had been thinking I would get. She had saved me money along with saving some of my sanity.
“Have you had challenges getting pregnant naturally?” asked Dr. Roberts, while he was running his hand across my belly and pushing down softly. “Has your partner been checked for any issues?”
“No,” I answered. “I’m not in a relationship and haven’t even been trying to conceive a baby naturally. I’ve just decided that I want to have a baby and I really don’t see why I should wait.”
I started to fidget uncomfortably. Even though I understood why we were talking about it now, I wished I didn’t have to. I had had this same conversation with my mother, several married mom friends, and anyone who felt the need to ask why my uterus had not as of yet produced a child.
“It’s okay,” said Dr. Roberts, a softness about his voice that almost threw me off. “I see plenty of women who feel the same way that you do. Usually, though, by the time they come to me, it’s been after several failed pregnancy attempts, so they want to address the problem medically. So, you’re telling me that you haven’t had any previous pregnancies?”
He picked up my flimsy file folder from the counter and started writing in it.
I would have to have had sex for that, I thought.
But I wouldn’t dare share that embarrassing tidbit with this surprisingly handsome and charming doctor.
“Right,” is all that I answered.
“I usually like to ask women who come in with your story this question, so I hope that you don’t take it the wrong way,” he said. “What makes you so sure that having a baby on your own is what’s best?”
There it was: the million dollar question.
I gave him the answer that I’d rehearsed and given to others many times before.
“I have a very vibrant and thriving career as a lawyer, so I know that, financially, I am in an incredible position to take care of a baby. The catch 22, though, is that, because I work so much, I simply haven’t found much time to date. And the guys I have dated have been absolute jerks. I decided to write off the whole idea of dating, as I don’t need a man who is going to treat me like shit, just so that I can become a mother.”
