My brother was a nice guy—too nice—and despite being two years older than me, I had always had to look out for him. Duty of a jock with the family nerd. Thankfully he’d said no to her absurd request, but Franky was strong-willed. She was probably thinking up ways to make him come around.
That would not be happening. A kid with no dad in the picture? Not a chance.
I was still muttering to myself about this crazy situation when I spotted the woman herself. She was walking along the street, in that way people had when they had places to be and people to see, her topknot bouncing, her long stride purposeful and angry. As I drew closer, she stopped, fisted her hips, and looked up to the sky. I doubted she was asking God for guidance. Most scientists didn’t believe in a higher power, so maybe she was trying to calculate meaning in the stars. One thing was obvious: she was hurting. She really wanted this, and my brother had let her down.
Don’t go feeling sorry for her. Sean had done the right thing.
Rolling the car to a stop, I lowered the window. “You okay?”
Her mouth curled in a sneer, like I was some sleazy curb crawler looking to pick up a pretty girl.
“Why would I not be okay?”
“Because you’re standing on the sidewalk, five blocks from your sister’s house, after you walked out in a huff. You look annoyed.”
“That’s your learned conclusion?”
Learned. She never resisted an opportunity to make jabs about my intelligence.
“Just something my dumb jock brain picked up on. You need a ride somewhere?”
“No. My car’s back at Rosie’s.”
So she was walking off her annoyance. I used a rink for that myself, but civilians had to make do with other methods.
“I’ll ask again. You okay?”
“I—” She inhaled a short breath. “I will be. This is just a minor setback.”
So not going to give up, which meant Sean was still in the line of fire. An outside observer might say this was none of my business, but my brother’s welfare mattered to me. Fathering a child that you would never see was not good for anyone in this situation. Ask me how I know.
“What’s your plan then?”
“Like it’s any of your business.” She continued walking.
She was right, except for the Sean aspect. That made it my business.
I drove about a block until I spied a parking spot. By the time she drew even, I was rocking a casual lean against my car.
She stopped before me. “I assume you’re being protective of Sean.”
Okay, she got it. That was exactly why I was taking time out of my busy evening to speak to her.
“I don’t want to see him taken for a ride.”
“And you think asking him for a no-strings cupful of sperm is taking advantage?”
No strings. Sure. “What if he agrees, then changes his mind about wanting to see his kid?”
She seemed to be turning that over in her mind. One thing I’d say about Franky St. James: watching her think was fascinating. She lived inside her head, working shit out about science and biology and slugs and snails. Not that I cared for the subject matter, but the thought process she applied to her problems made her interesting while she did it.
“I’m happy to amend the contract that way, if that’s what he wants.” She moved closer to me, her face animated. Kind of … pretty. “I had assumed he would be uninterested in any future connection, but it might be good for the child to have a father figure. However, it could be complicated by—” Breaking off, she shook her head.
“Complicated by what?”
“If there was another man in my life after the child was born. But that’s unlikely. A slim probability, but even so, we could factor it into our agreement.” She jerked out of her reverie. “Did Sean say that was an issue? Did I go too hard on the no-obligation aspect?”
Shit. Here I was giving her hope. “No, he didn’t say that. I barely spoke with him about it. He’s not interested.”
