“What?”
I lower the paper towel. “When I couldn’t find out anything from the cryobank, I searched online.” The words gush out, like water from a broken pipe. “There’s an organization—the International Fertility Donor Registry. For a fee, you can post a donor number and the name of a cryobank on their website, and anyone else who has the same info—the donor, a child, siblings, or the donor recipient—can reach you.” I venture a glimpse at his face. He’s wearing his inscrutable lawyer expression. “Both parties have to sign up and be actively looking, so it’s by mutual consent.”
“Hell.” He drags his fingers through his hair and draws in a long breath, then paces toward the window. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. Nothing’s truly private anymore.” He turns around, walks back, and folds his arms across his chest. His gaze is so pointed it practically pins me to the wall. “So what did you do?”
The paper towel crumples in my hand. “I, um, visited the site and registered as you.”
“Jesus, Jess!”
“I-I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry.”
A muscle twitches in his jaw. His eyes make me feel like I’m under a laser telescope and he can see right through my skin, right into my black, guilty heart.
He takes a step forward, puts his hands on the granite island, and leans over it toward me. “What did you find out?”
I hesitate. “You said you didn’t want to know.”
“I didn’t.” His voice is hard. “I wanted to honor the contract I signed, but you’ve made that impossible.”
“I—I don’t...” I try to think of a way to make this better for him. He’s acting like I’ve compromised his integrity. “I don’t have to tell you.”
His brows rise, then hunker low. His eyes are angry and incredulous. “You think this should be asecretbetween us?”
I crumple. It’s impossible. I can’t live with it. “No.” My voice sounds as small as I feel.
“So tell me, Jess. What did you find out?”
A quote from Donald T. Regan runs through my mind:When all else fails, tell the truth. “I found out,” I say, “that you have a child looking for you.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Zack
THE NEWS HITSme like a blow to the solar plexus. I take several steps back, turn away, and then pivot again. Holyhell.“Did you contact him? Or is it a her?”
Jessica lifts her shoulders and shakes her head. “They just have little icons—one for a child, one for a mother, one for a donor. There’s no information about gender or age. I would have needed to give your social security number to read the message or leave a message, but I felt like that would be crossing a line.”
My face heats. “Oh. So that’s where the line is, huh? No problem assuming my identity or trying to change the info on my cryobank account or lying to me about it.”
“I’m so, so sorry, Zack.”
A child is looking for me? Holy moly. My stomach feels like it’s full of lead. I try to take it in, to wrap my mind around it, but I’m bristling with outrage. Jess had no right. She’s opened a damned Pandora’s box. I stride across the room, then back again. Silence, vast and distancing, stretches between us.
“Look, maybe I didn’t handle this very well, but...” Her voice cracks.
“Maybe you didn’t handle this well?” I can’t believe she’d go behind my back like this and then try to lie about it. I feel like I’m talking to a stranger.
She raises both of her hands. I’m not sure if it’s astopgesture or a sign of surrender. “I didn’t. I know I didn’t. I was wrong. I’m sorry.”
“So am I, Jess. So am I.” I pace to the window, then back. “What the hell was the point of this little snoop fest?”
“I don’t know.”
“What do you expect me to do with this information?”
“I—I don’t know.” Tears are forming in her eyes again. “I didn’t mean to tell you yet. I thought if I were pregnant from a donor egg when you found out, it wouldn’t be such a... wouldn’t be so... we wouldn’t feel so blindsided.”
Whoa—she’d thought she’d go ahead and get pregnant with a donor egg without telling me I have a child looking for me? I’m too stunned to process the implications of that. “I feel pretty blindsided right now.”
