He snorted. “Weirder than it already is? Don’t think that’s possible. Look, I understand if you’re having second thoughts about me as your baby’s daddy. Maybe now you’ve gotten to know me a little, I’m not what you had in mind.”
“You were never what I had in mind! That’s not it. I think you’d be a fine donor and father, but the burden it places on you is more than I considered. I had hoped it would be one and done, but what if it’s five, six, seven months, and still no baby in sight? Are you prepared to roll up here monthly on an indefinite basis, dick in hand, reporting for duty?”
My outburst had clearly shocked him into silence. Then a small smile curved his lips, a smile that turned wider as the seconds passed.
“What’s so funny?”
“Dick in hand, reporting for duty. You sure do have a way with words, Doc.”
I placed my head in my hands. “I don’t want you to worry about being a prop in all of this. Because you want to be involved as a father, it might be psychologically ruinous for your role to be seen as merely biological at this point.” I peeked at him through the cage of my fingers.
He narrowed his eyes at me. “I think you’re trying to bamboozle me with your vocab there, but I’ll try my best to generate a plain language summary. You’re worried that this process will take a toll on my mental health.”
How rare to meet someone who could take my often torturous way with words and translate it into language the average person could understand. Most men I knew were either so smart that they saw my speech patterns as a challenge or too stupid to even try to parse my meaning. I had to admit I spoke this way sometimes to test someone—and here was Jason Isner blowing away all my preconceptions.
“I am.”
He placed a hand on my back, gently moving it around in circles meant to soothe, but which did nothing of the sort. His touch was fire. Damn those fertility drugs for making everything so … lusty!
“Franky, I never thought this was going to happen the first time out. Sure, it might be tough for us both if we’re six months in with nothing to show for it, but I think it’ll be tougher for you. Now anything worth doing is worth doing well. And by well, I mean sticking at it until we’re both damn sick of each other, or there’s a baby in your belly.”
I loved when he got riled up, and I’d clearly annoyed him with the notion of letting him off the hook. He hated the idea that I wasn’t giving him a chance to make it right. The warrior athlete in him saw success as the only option.
Was it possible I’d chosen the best possible father for my child?
“You make some good points.”
“Fuck yeah, I do.” He dropped his hand and returned to his tea. “Hey, this stuff isn’t half bad. Now how about we coordinate calendars for next month?”
He had talked me off the ledge and thankfully, removed his strong, warm hand from my body. All was right again. Sort of.
I sipped my Earl Grey tea, surprisingly well made and steeped to perfection. “Let’s.”
Chapter Seventeen
Jason
* * *
The preseason was finally winding down with our fifth of six games scheduled for Detroit. The league made as much effort as possible to plan these games to minimize travel, so while we’d already played in Boston and Minneapolis, a trip to Detroit was like a walk in the park. Except I was tired from the travel, and maybe a little from the stress of arranging my next DoorDash sperm delivery.
Because I was set to be on the road in the days prior to Franky’s next ovulation window, we had decided that she would come visit me in Detroit. This meant we had to sneak around, which to be honest, was kind of hot. Not that I needed this situation to be hot. I could jerk off on demand, but I also liked the idea that we were planning a special meet-up in service to conceiving our kid. A story we could tell the little one later.
Though the doc might not want to share that at all.
Finding her so upset that it hadn’t worked the first time had ripped my heart out. I hated to see a woman teary-eyed, and while I’d long tried to ignore the fact Francesca St. James was a woman, this whole situation made it very clear that she was. The emotions, the biology, the fact I was breeding her—that was classic caveman shit right there. And then to hear that she might not want my donation after all? Thank God I managed to talk her down. No way was I letting her weasel out of our deal.
Franky was scheduled to drive up early and check into the team hotel before we got there. That way, we could meet up for the hand-off—heh—after I got there, try again before curfew, and maybe give it one more shot before the game tomorrow.
My biggest concern was the fact I was rooming with my nephew Hatch, so I’d have to slip away and avoid his questions. Luckily, he’d made up with his girl Summer before the preseason, so he was likely to be distracted.
We had just dumped our overnight bags in the hotel room and were slipping out of our suits when Hatch’s phone rang. His grin was wide enough to power the Detroit grid and made my own heart sing because cover was rolling my way.
“Hey, Sunshine. So good to hear from you.”
I pulled my sweats on and hung my suit. “I’m gonna go for a walk. Maybe an hour?”
Hatch gave me an absent wave. Perfect.
