“Is that even possible?”
I knew her game now. “Oh, it’s possible. Nyquist hit him at a nightclub because he hurt my niece’s feelings.” The gruff D-man also happened to have Mabel in tow at the time, which made headlines and inspired Halloween costumes across the land.
“Well, I wouldn’t rely completely on tabloid gossip to eliminate anyone. However, I had already discussed him with Adeline, and she confirms your story.” She struck him through.
Boden remained. I was also on there, but with that damning line through my name and a note, temperamentally unsuitable, which I guessed was a scientific way of saying “asshole.”
But it might have also meant more. Not suited to relationships, to fatherhood, to a normal life with a normal woman. That’s what Everly had implied. Damn all these women who thought they had a bead on me.
I moved down the list, passing over the crossed-out names—Bilson, Jackson, Nyquist—to another name I didn’t recognize, but was still in the running.
“This guy, Charles Compton. What’s his deal?”
“Charles is someone I went to grad school with. He currently teaches in London, so that makes the process a little more complicated. But he’s not dating anyone right now and he is a prime specimen.”
Sounded like a tool. “I assume he’s a professor of something.”
“He lectures in Zoology at the University of London and is in high demand for conferences. His last paper on bivalve mollusks as an invasive species was shortlisted for the best article of the year in Nature magazine.”
“Which makes him good donor material, I suppose.”
She eyed me. “I suspect you think the opposite.”
Leaning back, I crossed my ankle over my knee. Her gaze skittered over my bare legs, then she sharply looked away. Interesting.
“You need to be considering a better balance here.”
“Of?”
“Genes. Do you want your kid to be so smart they get bullied? Wouldn’t it be better to give the kid the best start in life, the best opportunity to be well-adjusted with a good mix of genetics? You’re a smart cookie, but how are you on a football field, baseball pitch, or ice rink?”
Her brows angled together. “You’re asking if I’m sporty?”
“You need to mix in a sprinkle of physical prowess. Good hand-eye coordination. Stamina. That way, your kid has choices. Whether to become a rocket scientist or a?—”
“Hockey player.”
“Someone who likes sports, which, right or wrong, guarantees a higher likelihood of acceptance amongst her peers.”
She twitched her nose again. “Genetics doesn’t work that way. It’s not a percentages thing or a recipe to guarantee a certain IQ or physical talent. Still, your point is well-taken.”
I couldn’t help my grin. The professor agreed with something I said.
“No need to look so smug. I’m still not sure this is a good idea. You have a very mobile life and could be traded to another city at any moment.”
“Not likely. Chicago is probably my last team. As much as I hate the idea, I’ve got maybe five or six more good years in me. I’m not Theo.” My brother had played well into his forties, which was practically unheard of. I didn’t see that in my future.
“Okay, but my life is potentially mobile as well. I’m actively looking for professional advancement, which might take me to another university. Maybe even another state or country.”
I hadn’t thought of that, which probably made me a sexist ass. Of course, the professor was ambitious. Her drive had left her in this predicament in the first place, so focused on her career that she was deaf to the biological clock ticking down on her dream.
She held my gaze. “Are you willing to co-parent a child that might not be in the same city as you?”
“By the time there are any major changes in your life, I’ll likely have retired, which means my time is my own. I could move to where you are, or the kid could live with me for part of the year here in Chicago. Where your family and mine are here as support.”
I needed to lay it out there. Geography wouldn’t matter, not where my kid was concerned.
“You’ve given me a lot to think about.”
