Vincent Rhyne—the man who’d changed his life in immeasurable ways.
The table wasn’t cold, but it wasn’t comfortable, either. Mal scooted to the end, planted his feet in the stirrups, then wiggled down farther, putting himself on display. It was always the part of the procedure that made him feel the most skittish. With his body exposed to the room, he was vulnerable, and it gave the voices in his head the perfect ammunition to torment him with.
Legs in the air again, huh? Ass out, hole at the ready. It’s just like you to flaunt like that, isn’t it? Doesn’t matter how old and undesirable you get… once a filthy whore, always a filthy whore.
But those thoughts had no place in Mal’s heart, and he couldn’t afford them space in his mind, either. The choices he’d made in the past did not define the man he was becoming. It was never too late to grow, to change, and to embrace a new reality.
The past wouldn’t hold him back from the future he wanted.
“Today, we’ll be placing three embryos,” Vincent said. As he spoke, he busied himself with preparations. “A single catheter will be used. The procedure will take no more than five minutes, but we’ll ask you to rest on the table for approximately half an hour following the transfer. You’ve already signed off on having the remaining three embryos frozen for a second round of treatment should this one not take. So far, is everything correct?”
“Yes,” Mal said. The clinical trial operated differently than typical IVF did. On the day of embryo transfer, Mal was used to heavy identification checks and not one, but two embryologists verifying that the information on file was correct. With three supervising doctors in the room, and with Vincent emotionally invested in today’s outcome, Mal didn’t doubt that he was in good hands, but he marked the difference regardless. “So far, everything is correct.”
“Great. Are you ready to begin?”
Mal closed his eyes. A sensation he rarely felt flooded through him, choking out the dark places where his most troublesome thoughts and memories resided.
Hope.
As a smile stretched his lips and his heart skipped a beat, he gave Vincent permission to do what no other lover had been able to do for him before—make him a father. “Yes.”
* * *
The screen displayedblobs in grayscale. Some were more clearly defined than others. A long, white strip entered the frame and withdrew slightly a few times to reposition itself. Finally, it fell still, remained in place for a touch more than twenty seconds, then withdrew from the image.
“We’re done,” Vincent announced. “The transfer is complete.”
Mal took in a breath so deep it lifted his chest and stomach. It was done. In two weeks’ time, he’d come back for a blood test to check for pregnancy. The hardest part of the procedure was over—all that was left to do now was wait to see if one of the embryos would attach.
“The thirty-minute countdown begins now. After that time has elapsed, you’re welcome to continue normal daily activities. We ask that you refrain from heavy lifting, the ingestion of drugs, alcohol, or caffeine, and cigarette smoking. In order to keep your chances of conception as high as possible, you’ll need to avoid orgasm until we can reassess your condition after your blood work comes back. At that point, if your blood tests positive for pregnancy, we’ll reevaluate the situation. If there are abnormalities, or if it looks like the pregnancy is at risk, we’ll ask you to wait for longer—up to twelve weeks, coinciding with your first ultrasound.”
Twelve weeks.
It wasn’t news to Mal, who’d heard the same instructions from Dr. Kanna several times, but it had never occurred to him how long twelve weeks was until Vincent had come into his life. They’d held off for eight days already, and that was torture enough.
“What do I need to do to… to improve the chances I don’t have to wait for twelve weeks?” Mal asked hesitantly.
Vincent snapped off his gloves and stepped around from where he’d been standing. Low-burning fire smoldered in his eyes, visible only to Mal—Vincent’s back was to the rest of the physicians in the room. “Make sure you stick to a healthy diet. Don’t exert yourself. Keep to a light exercise routine—walking and low-intensity stretching. Apart from that, have faith that your body knows what it’s doing. It’ll be over before you know it.”
Mal wanted to believe it, but the look in Vincent’s eyes—the one that made his heart race and his stomach clench in anticipation—said otherwise. “That’s all? There’s nothing else?”
“That’s it,” Vincent said. “All you need to do, Mr. Collins, is listen to what I’ve told you. It’s as easy as that.”
One last scorching gaze turned Mal’s willpower to ash.
Vincent’s eyes said more than his mouth did, telling Mal what their situation didn’t allow him to say out loud—if Mal listened, and if Mal obeyed, Vincent would take care of him.
* * *
Mal was barely settledin his car when he received a text from Vincent.
7PM, your place.
Is this in compliance with doctor’s orders?Mal grinned. He glanced toward the clinic door, hoping that he’d find Vincent against the wall like the time before, but Vincent wasn’t there.
Very much so,Vincent agreed.I’ll see you then.
There was no further correspondence—no plea for permission. Vincent knew what he wanted, and he was going to get it.
