The Baby He Wants: A BWWM Pregnancy Romance

by Etan, Cher

  "Ha," Ava said, turning back to where she was using Bob's toothbrush to scrub between the little black thing's ears. "I think it got stuck in a sewer drain or something."

  ". . . It?" Bob asked, creeping closer. "Creeping" was definitely the word for it. He was practically sidling, hands open and ready at his sides.

  "It thinks it's a cat," Ava said.

  "Mew," agreed the black thing.

  "Thinks it's a cat?" Bob repeated, finally coming up behind Ava, close enough to lean over her shoulder. "Or is a cat?"

  Ava looked down at the little black thing, now revealing itself to be entirely black and entirely fuzzy, once all the dirt and dust were washed off. It had four legs, all of them attempting to thrash their way out of the soapy water even as Ava held it down with only the barest pressure on its tiny little shoulders. It had a long tail — comparatively, anyway, at least half the length of its whole body — and large, pointy ears, currently flattened back against its skull. It had seemed content enough to sit quietly once she got the washcloth over its shoulders, but now that it had a new audience, it was mewling plaintively, one tiny paw stretching out towards Bob as if pleading for mercy.

  "It can't be a cat," Ava said. "I'm not sneezing."

  "It's wet," Bob said. "Cat allergies are triggered by dander. You know, dry skin."

  Ava stared down at the thing in the sink.

  "Let me guess," said Bob. "It followed you home, and now you want to keep it."

  "Son of a bitch," said Ava.

  "Mew," said the cat.

  *****

  It was a damned scrawny thing. Ava could wrap her thumb and forefinger around its waist without really trying, even with the washcloth still wrapped around it. She scooped it up once she was reasonably sure she had all the dirt and crap washed off of it and wrapped it up in one of the hand towels. It let out that tiny purr again, its eyes falling half shut, its mouth cracking just barely open. It leaned into the press of her finger as she tried to rub the fur on its cheeks dry, and the purr cranked itself right up to eleven. She cradled it carefully in both palms, still keeping the towel between herself and its actual fur, and set it down carefully on the counter.

  "Stay," she said. She ignored Bob's amused snort and slowly pulled her hands away. "Stay. Staaaaaaaaay."

  The kitten reached up one paw and batted at her fingers.

  "That's not staying."

  She kept one hand in front of the kitten to discourage it from trying to make a run for it while she reached for her hair dryer. The kitten popped up on its haunches and wrapped both paws around her thumb, and she barely managed to restrain herself from yanking her hand away and sending it flying across the room.

  What the hell. Didn't this thing have any survival instinct at all?

  The kitten sniffed at the tip of her thumb, licked it once with that brilliantly pink tongue, then started gnawing on it.

  "Son of a bitch!" This time Ava did pull her hand away. The kitten slid a few inches forward on the counter, but let go before it could go over the edge. Ava examined her thumb for puncture wounds.

  "Mew!" said the kitten.

  "Then don't freaking bite me!" said Ava.

  Bob snorted again. Ava glanced back and saw her roommate had his cell phone out.

  "Dude," Ava said, not even trying to dodge the camera lens. There wasn't enough space in the sink alcove, anyway. "Who are you even going to send that to?"

  "The internet," said Bob.

  Ava rolled her eyes and looked back at the kitten. "I'm trying to dry you off," she told it. The kitten sneezed. "Yes," said Ava. "Exactly." She picked up the hair dryer and after a few moments examining the cat — it wasn't like she'd ever really had a pet before, what with not trying to be the next Bindi Irwin or nothin — she set the dryer to the lowest setting and aimed it at the kitten.

  It let out another indignant little "mew!" and stood up again, front paws batting at the blast of air.

  "Sorry, dude," Ava told it. "You can't kill air."

  "Believe her," Bob said. "She would know."

  "That's my idiot room mate Bob," Ava said, using a corner of the hand towel to fluff at the fur on the kitten's belly. "First rule you need to learn, other than don't bite me: never listen to Uncle Bobby."

  It started as a snicker, then grew into a great whopping belly laugh. "Dude," Bob finally managed. "Does that mean you've just declared yourself that thing's mother?"

  "Shut up, Bob."

  "Mew," agreed the kitten.

  Speaking of motherhood, it suddenly occurred to Ava that she couldn’t remember when she’d had her last period…definitely before that whole thing with…Ava cut that thought off with a snap.

  Chapter 5

  Tristan Carrington slowed his late model sports car to a stop outside the two story, sprawling mansion in one of the more upscale neighborhoods in the city. He was buzzed in through the electronic gates after the electronic cameras zoomed in on his face and parked in the driveway in front of the mansion. He looked around, appreciating as always his mother’s landscaping. She had an eye for beauty that surpassed any he’d ever seen or known. Her garden was the talk of the town; and that’s exactly how she liked it.

  He used a few moments to compose himself, checking his appearance in the rear-view mirror and checking he had his briefcase and PDA with him before he stepped out of the car and went to the front door. He waited patiently as he rang the bell, hearing the faint musical chimes as it rang indoors. Fighting down the nerves, Tristan coached himself to be cool and confident, every inch the capable human being she’d brought him up to be. He’d called ahead, made an appointment to see her so she would clear her morning and they would have time to deal with this uninterrupted. Come up with some sort of plan. There were options that could be explored. Tristan had been studying up.

  The door was soon opened by an older woman with rosy cheeks and an apron around her waist, who smiled when she saw Tristan on the doorstep.

  “Good morning Mr. Carrington. Your mother is waiting in the Blue Room,” she said, stepping back to allow him to enter.

  She led him through the hallway and into another room bathed in shades of blue. Jensen’s artistic senses keenly took in the interior design of the room with approval, his eyes came to a stop on the woman sitting on the lounge and he couldn’t help the way his feet stuttered to a stop.

  Keep it together Carrington.

  Now that he was really looking at his mother, he noticed she looked older than he remembered. She was a tall woman; her hair was a paler shade of gold, her skin less smooth than it used to be but she was still an elegant looking woman. She was dressed stylishly in a tailored cream suit and matching low heeled pumps. She came to her feet gracefully and came forward to meet him, tiny hand held out and a welcoming smile on her face.

  “Tristan…it's good to see you. I was expecting you for brunch on Sunday – what happened to you? Come. Sit. We have a lot to discuss,” she began.

  Tristan smiled weakly. Imagined telling her that he’d spent the weekend with a roadie and internally shook his head. There were no words he could use to make her understand that. Best to just keep quiet. One crisis at a time.

  “Do sit, you must be hungry. Did you even have breakfast this morning? I heard about the Linden merger; good job,” she said with motherly pride.

  Tristan awkwardly took a seat as he tried to figure out how to begin. His mother was still talking though, something about Savannah and while Tristan felt he should listen, he was too busy going over the facts he’d read in his mind.

  One aspect that compounds the negative impact of a low sperm count is that it is also frequently associated with reduced sperm quality.

  One article had said. It was crazy how much that was like a knife in his gut. Still he had looked for solutions.

  Today, a single sperm is sufficient for fertilization if it is literally injected into the egg using ICSI (intracytoplasmic sperm injection).

  His heart had perked up when he’d
read that. There was hope. Until he’d gotten to the next part.

  ICSI fails more often than it succeeds, is hugely expensive and creates considerable psychological and other stresses for the couple.

  Yeah. Were he and Savanna ready for that sort of stress; especially with everything else they were dealing with right now? Did he present it to her and let her decide?

  “Tristan? Are you listening to me?” his mother’s voice cut in on his musings and he started.

  “Yes, of course,” he replied sitting up straight. He needed to tell her.

  “I invited Savanna to join us. I thought it would save us a bit of time if we were all on the same page,” his mother was saying and Tristan’s face paled. In the distance, he heard the slam of a door and footsteps approaching the room. Shit, time’s up

  He turned to watch the arrival of his erstwhile girlfriend and had to bite back a curse. She was as elegant as always. Tall, shapely, devastatingly attractive with a genteel smile and well groomed hair. She even walked with a genteel stride, every step graceful and calculated. Her white, even teeth flashed as she smiled at him.

  Savannah Leicester in the flesh. Wife to be. Designated woman of his dreams.

  They had met when they were both thirteen years old; when they were sent to boarding school in England. Both naïve, scared and lonely; they’d clung to each other like limpets. When holidays came around, they would request their parents to let them spend them together. There had been skiing trips to Gstaad and summer hikes across the Himalayas. When they got old enough, there were hunting safaris in Namibia and chasing the Great Buffalo Migration at the Mara. They spent great times together, thrill seeking around the world. It was the every day small stuff that tripped them up. Being Savannah’s boyfriend was a high maintenance job and sometimes Tristan fell short. And now…was he to tell her he couldn’t give her babies?

  Thinking back, Tristan cringed to think how naïve and trusting he had been, how much he’d thought that their shared history was all they ever needed. He had been the shy, awkward teenager trying to live up to his mother’s expectations, Savannah had been the devil may care between them, who was just living life as it came. Tristan had fallen head over heels for her because of that. He wished he could be more like her, so carefree, so confident in her ability to negotiate their world. He’d been a blushing uncertain piece of meat for Savannah to play with and mold to her image. He’d exchanged one role model for another. His mother for Savannah.

  From that day forward, they had been inseparable. Savannah would initiate adventures around London. They would visit pubs and bribe someone to buy them beer then sneak back into the school. It didn’t take long before Tristan lost his virginity to Savannah and he realized he had fallen for her. Tristan had thought he’d found the love of his life, that this was his happily ever after.

  It hadn’t lasted long though. Their relationship was not all smooth sailing. There was the Italian race car driver that had turned Savannah’s head the summer they were seventeen. She had said that she just wanted to be friends. She’d broken his heart and he’d drowned his sorrows in women and booze. After the Italian had got bored with her, Savannah had come crying back, saying she’d made a mistake.

  Tristan didn’t hold that against her though. They had both been young, sheltered in their own ways in the belief that things could work between them. In his heart, Tristan had always had the belief that things were too good to be true, that someone like him could deserve someone like her. Savannah had been like a shining star, attractive, confident, smart and popular with her own wealth to boot. Tristan had been shy, awkward, unsociable and lacking in confidence. People like him didn’t end up with people like Savannah. Of course they traveled in the same circles but before he hit that growth spurt and filled out his shirts, he was a gangly socially awkward mess. The fact that Savannah even spoke to him was a source of great wonder to him for many years.

  Tristan was broken out of his reminiscing and brought back to the present as Savannah enfolded his mother with a quick kiss on the cheeks before she turned to greet him. He wasn't the gangly boy he was before, and he was certainly a lot more attractive now; but Savannah was also still a huge catch and Tristan knew it. Trying to sell his plan for their future might not be as easy as they might hope.

  Tristan would have wished that his mother hadn’t called her to join them for this meeting but he could see why she did it. She had no idea of the bombshell he was about to drop. He decided to do this by way of presentation. He was going to present his case as if it was a new business venture they were going into. It was a language they would both understand.

  *****

  “Savannah? Mama? I have something to share with you. If you would kindly watch this short presentation I’ve made before we continue; I’ll be very grateful,” Tristan said as he set up the projector. It was the coward’s way out he thought, but it was the only way he felt able to do this. His stomach sank to his toes at the thought of disappointing his mother. And Savannah. This was his last chance. He had to get it right. He started the presentation as Savannah and his mother settled on the couch, cups of tea in their hands.

  A blonde man in a white lab coat appeared on the screen. He wore thin framed spectacles and had a kind look on his face. Savannah and Mrs. Carrington listened as the man talked.

  We all exist because of our parent’s fertility; yet in the grand scheme of evolution, fertility is a crucial selection factor that has determined the future of our own and many other species. By animal standards, humans have remarkably poor fertility.

  His mother cast him a surprised glance at the topic of the presentation but Tristan kept his eyes on the screen. Savannah was still and silent, back straight, watching impassively.

  Only one study has so far sought and found evidence that declining sperm counts are impairing conception rates. For example the study found that during the six-month period of the study of 430 couples, 65% of men with sperm counts >40 million/ml impregnated their partners, while for men with counts 20 or <20 million/ ml were 65.0% and 36.4%. Therefore, having a low sperm count makes you less fertile, although it does not exclude the possibility that you will impregnate your partner over a span of time, unless your sperm count is zero.

  Mrs. Carrington sighed deeply looking from her son to Savannah and then back at the screen.

  Therefore, irrespective of whether sperm counts have decreased, a substantial number of young men in the next generation have sperm counts within the ‘sub fertile range'. Yet even the relevance of this has been challenged, despite the fact that one in seven couples experience ‘infertility' problems—that is, no pregnancy after 12–18 months of trying—and that in at least half of these cases, the problem is identified as a ‘male factor': most commonly a low sperm count.

  This raises the frequently overlooked point that infertility involves two people. Male factor issues such as low sperm count have to be seen in the context of female fertility, which is unarguably also on the decline for social and career reasons; this is reflected in the progressive increase in age at first pregnancy across the developed world.

  The man trailed off and Savannah and his mother looked at him.

  “Tristan, what is going on?” his mother asked.

  Tristan took a deep breath. “I got my test results back. I’m perfectly healthy. But my sperm count is low,” he said eyes cast down.

  “Your…sperm count is low,” Savannah repeated.

  “We might have some trouble conceiving,” Tristan continued, eyes still on the floor.

  “Trouble conceiving or unable to have children? Which is it?” Savannah demanded.

  Mrs. Carrington rested her hand briefly over Savannah’s. “Let’s start slow. Did you get a second opinion?” she asked Tristan.

  “No. They did the tests several times. There was no mistake,” Tristan said his voice heavy and tired.

  His mother patted his knee, “Don’t worry, we’ll get through this.”

  “What about th
e engagement?” Tristan asked.

  Both he and his mother turned to look at Savannah who shook her head, “I don’t know what you want from me. I want to marry you Tristan and I guess we can get through this. Of course I don’t know what my parents will say about this. Maybe we should postpone an announcement until we come up with a strategy for a way forward.”

  “Just…postpone?” Tristan asked.

  “Yes,” Savannah put her hand over his. “You’re the one I want Tris; we’ll get through this, together.”

  “Indeed,” Tristan replied dryly. He didn’t turn his hand around to hold hers, but he didn’t move it away either. Everything was just so confusing.

  *****

  Six weeks after the music festival, after Ava still hadn’t gotten her period, she went to the pharmacy to buy some pregnancy tests. She went back home to commune with the cat which they were calling ‘Joe Black’ due to its color and also because Ava loved the movie.

  “I don’t know if I can do this. Do I even want to know?” she asked it as it played with her hair. It liked to pat it and rearrange it; roll in it. It had a serious hair fetish.

  “But I gotta know, right? There’s no escape. If something is in there…” Ava couldn’t finish that thought. She locked herself in the bathroom, Bob wasn’t expected home for another few hours; she had the house to herself.

  Ava stared down at the white stick in her hand. She squeezed her eyes shut, counted to ten in her head and then opened her eyes one at a time and forced herself to look down again. The cross taunted her, mocking her with its pinkness. Ava could feel her tears threatening and they blurred her vision but not the damning result. She was pregnant.

  "Shit," Ava breathed flinging the stick that represented her recklessness and stupidity across the bathroom. It hit the opposite wall and Ava watched distractedly as it fell to the tiled floor with a small cracking sound. It gave her a small moment of satisfaction.

  Ava leaned forward, her head in her hands. She silently cursed herself over and over as she visualized the sound of her whole world crashing down noisily around her. The imagined noise was deafening and Ava put her hands over her ears to block out the sound from her head. Ava drew in a deep breath which turned into a choking sob as she dropped one hand rubbing it across her belly as if she was trying to feel the small life growing within her. She was pregnant. Joe Black came to rub himself all on her leg. He seemed to realize that she was in pain.