Page 200 of Theirs to Desire (Club M: Boxed Set)

SOPHIA

P atricia was out sick Monday and Tuesday, courtesy of a stomach bug. She comes into my office first thing Wednesday morning, still looking a little exhausted from her bout of illness, but her eyes shine with excitement.

“Sophia,” she exclaims. “I opened my email last night and saw your note about the donation from Damien Cardenas. A check for a million dollars? I can hardly believe it.”

Yeah, me neither.

“How did you manage this?”

Crap. With everything that has happened since the fundraiser, I forgot to come up with a cover story for this donation. I like my boss, and I don’t want to lie to her. “Umm. . .”

“I looked him up, of course,” she continues. “He's the Chief Operating Officer of the Cardenas Group. The company supports quite a lot of community health care in South America, Asia, and Africa but doesn't do much in North America. I don’t understand how we ended up on their radar.”

Patricia has a dozen photos of her grandchildren on her desk. On the back of her office chair hangs a sweatshirt that says ‘Cat Mom.’ Someone meeting her for the first time might be excused for underestimating her, but I know better.

She's looking to me for an explanation, and I don't have one to offer her. I don't know why Damien gave our organization that money unless it was to spend time with me. But that's insane.

I settle for a version of the truth. “Damien is an old friend,” I respond. “He was at the Summit fundraiser, and I guess he thought we were a worthy cause.” He’s also rich enough that a million dollars is a drop in the bucket. If Patricia looked him up, she’d already know that.

“Such a generous gesture,” she gushes. “Sophia, we must thank him.”

“I sent a note.”

“No, no, no.” She shakes her head emphatically. “That doesn’t seem sufficient. We must take him out to dinner. An old friend, you said? Perfect. Can you set it up?”

More time with Damien, just what I need. Fantastic. Just fantastic.

I leave work early and head to my appointment at the Collins Fertility Clinic. My appointment is with a Dr. Mark Hernandez.

Dr. Hernandez looks like he’s in his late forties. He has olive-brown skin and brown eyes. “What can I do for you, Ms. Thorson?” he asks after the initial exchange of pleasantries.

“I want to get pregnant,” I reply. “I’m thirty-five, single, and painfully aware that I’m running out of time. I want to explore my options.” I take a deep breath. “Like donor insemination.”

“Have you been trying to conceive?”

He’s asking me if I’m having regular sex. I wish. “No, I haven’t,” I reply. “I've done a little bit of research, but I thought I'd schedule this appointment to see what the process is.”

“Certainly,” he answers readily. “The first step is to make sure that you have no fertility issues that will complicate donor insemination. Once that’s done, the next step is to pick a donor.

Some people choose to use the sperm of a friend or an acquaintance.

But I’ll caution you that there are some legal liabilities to consider in that situation. ”

Even if I could find somebody to be a sperm donor, I would never take that risk. They might try to assert custody over my child. I would never let my baby experience what Denise put us through.

“I’ll be using a sperm bank, Doctor.”

“Excellent. We work with several. Laura will give you a list on your way out. She’ll also give you information about the differences between anonymous, semi-open, and open donors.

Once you have a donor picked out, we move on to the insemination cycle.

There are three ways to do this: intracervical insemination, intravaginal insemination, and intrauterine insemination.

It typically takes anywhere from three to five rounds for fertilization to happen. ”

My head is spinning, and it’s only been a few minutes.

Some of what I’m feeling must be visible on my face because Dr. Hernandez gives me a thoughtful look.

“Fertility testing and treatments can be stressful,” he says.

“Not to mention expensive. We can start the basic fertility screening today, but as you move forward in this process, I recommend counseling.”

Some clinics don’t welcome single women, but the Collins Fertility Clinic isn’t one of them.

I looked them up online, and several reviews mentioned how welcoming and supportive they were toward single parents and same-sex couples.

Dr. Hernandez isn’t trying to discourage me from having a baby; he’s treating it like it’s a major, life-changing decision.

Because it is.

I have good health insurance, but it doesn’t cover fertility treatments and barely covers therapy. I used up most of my savings to fix up our house. Do I want a baby so much that I’m willing to go deep in debt?

Yes. Yes, I do.

“If counseling isn’t an option, one of our volunteers runs a support group. I believe they meet once a week. Laura can give you the details.” He looks up from his notepad. “If you’re ready, we can begin the first part of your fertility testing today.”

One uncomfortable pap smear later, I’m at the front desk. “The doctor said you’d give me some information?” I ask Laura.

“About sperm banks, right? Hang on, I’ll print a list of places we typically use.” She stuffs a dozen brochures into a binder and hands it to me.

“Dr. Hernandez also said something about a support group.”

“The group Nadya organizes? Yes, she left a flyer here somewhere.” She hands me a sheet of paper. “They’re meeting tonight.”

“Tonight?” I can't do that. That's too soon.

Plus, I have other things going on this evening.

Things like coming up with the curriculum for Damien's How to Become a Better Person course.

I should have done it yesterday, and I started to browse the Internet for ideas, but I fell asleep on the couch instead.

But Damien's only in town for four weeks, and he's held up his end of the bargain. No matter what I think of his motives, his gift was exceedingly generous. I need to do my part.

“I don't think tonight is going to work,” I tell the receptionist. “I'll just attend their next meeting.”

Ben, my oldest and most responsible brother, calls me as I'm driving back from the clinic. “Papa's birthday is coming up,” he says. “He's had his eye on a set of golf clubs, but they're not cheap. Do you want to go in on it? I talked to Andre, and he's in. So is Aurora. I left a message for Simon.”

In true contractor fashion, Simon only checks his messages twice a week. If that. “Good luck getting a reply,” I tell Ben. “The house that he's working on is giving him problems. He's there fourteen hours a day.”

“He works too hard,” Ben says disapprovingly.

“As if you’re any better. Yeah, count me in on the clubs. I’ll tell Simon about them if I see him tonight.”

“Thanks, I'd appreciate that.” He’s about to hang up when he remembers to ask, “What's going on with you, Soph? Are you really thinking of doing the pregnancy thing?”

“I'm on my way home from the fertility clinic. I had my first appointment today.”

He whistles softly. “You're moving quickly.”

“I don't have a lot of time to waste,” I point out.

“Hmm. There’s no guy in the picture, then? No one you want to do this with?”

For some inexplicable reason, I think about Julian and Damien.

And then I laugh at my imagination. Damien and Julian as parents?

Julian might be father material, maybe, but Damien?

Hell, no. I would never have a baby with somebody that wealthy.

If there's any custody dispute, he'd be able to steamroll over me.

“No,” I tell my brother. “There's nobody in the picture. Why do you ask? You don’t think I should have a baby via sperm donor?”

“You should do whatever you want,” he replies immediately. “Whatever makes you happy.” He hesitates. “Do you know my friends Tony and Leela?”

“I’ve heard you talk about them. Why?”

“They’ve been trying for a baby. Leela did fertility treatments last year.

It wasn’t good. They’d get their hopes up with each cycle, and when it didn't work, their hearts would shatter.” His voice turns sad.

“This year, Leela desperately wanted to keep trying. Tony didn’t.

They can’t figure out how to get past it.

They're separated now. Probably getting divorced.”

“That’s brutal.” The car in front of me stops abruptly, and I have to slam on my brakes to keep from rear-ending him. Blissfully unaware, he turns right. Asshole. Ever heard of a turn signal? “The doctor suggested a support group.”

“You should go, Soph. Make sure you know what you're getting into.”

I email the support group when I get back home. Nadya, the organizer, writes back almost immediately. “There is a meeting tonight,” her email says. “We meet at Grounds for Thoughts, the coffee shop on Main Street.”

Attached to her email is a schedule of their upcoming meetings. I'm about to reply saying I can’t meet tonight when I notice that they aren't meeting next week.

And next week I’m meeting with Dr. Hernandez again to discuss the results of my fertility tests.

Crap. So much for Damien's curriculum.

There are five women at the coffee shop, all roughly the same age as me. I walk up and introduce myself. I’m not naturally extroverted, but my job makes me good at faking it. When you routinely have to ask people for money, you learn to get over any sense of embarrassment.

There’s Nadya, Poppy, Jennifer, Felicity, and Malia.

After some initial chitchat, everyone goes around the table to talk about what they're struggling with.

Felicity, a freckled redhead, is the only woman apart from me who is single.

“I went on a date last night,” she says when it's her turn to share. “It was weird.”

“Why?” Jennifer asks.

“It’s the first time I didn’t tell a date I was planning on getting pregnant.” She turns to me. “Sophia, you’ll probably run into this too. Dating is hell when you're trying to have a baby.”