“Bye.” I hang up, my heart hammering harder than I’d like it to, and bury my face in my hands. I’d counted on myself not to let him have such an effect on me anymore, but it seems I miscalculated. I should have known nothing would ever be simple when it comes to Seth Isles.
But you did know,a voice in my mind whispers.You knew he’d have a problem with the arrangement you initially proposed and you went ahead anyway.
I try to turn my mind from this fact, but a sliver of doubt has lodged in my consciousness and I can’t ignore it. Did I ask Seth to father my baby because I knew he’d fight to be involved for more than the couple of months it takes to conceive, and deep down, I want to keep a connection to him?
Please say that’s not the case.
I want to deny it, one hundred percent, but I can’t because, perhaps—just perhaps—there’s a ring of truth to it.
5
Seth
After Ashlin hangs up, I do something that even if I had a gun to my head, I wouldn’t admit to. It’s too fucking embarrassing. I fire up my laptop, sit at my desk, and type into the Google search engine: how to make my ex fall back in love with me.
I know, it’s humiliating. I’m bothered that it’s come to this. But I’m not too proud to admit—to myself, at least—when I’m out of my depth. Ashlin seems to have erected barriers that will be difficult to breach. Hell, she doesn’t even want me in her home. A bit insulting, when you consider the fact that the only reason we’re talking is because she asked for my sperm.
A million links pop up, and I click on the top one. Frustration churns in my gut because I hate that I can’t just sit down with her, put everything on the table, and see what she says. Unfortunately, if I do that, she’ll probably run for the hills and find someone else to be her baby daddy. I’m not prepared to risk my shot for the slim chance she’d react positively.
My nostrils flare as I scan the blog post, which consists predominantly of photos of happy couples and pining singles. Ugh. I’m halfway down the page before I find anything that looks remotely like advice.
Make sure you’re well presented. Your ex found you attractive at some point in time, and if you want them back, you need to reignite that flame. Don’t give in to the temptation to let yourself go in the face of post break-up blues.
I glance down at myself. My appearance isn’t something I dwell on, except for when I know I’ll be seeing Ashlin. Right now, I’m in shorts and a Crown MMA branded t-shirt that’s faded from too many washes and has a hole near the waistband. My stubble is growing thick and I haven’t been to a barber in years. Usually, I just deal with my hair using a trimmer to take most of it off. I study my palms. Callused. Scarred. Blunt fingers, short nails. Not fit to touch her. But then, they never were.
Grabbing a pen, I start a list.
1. Tidy myself the fuck up.
I scroll to the next item.
Remind her of positive memories. Don’t be direct, but think of subtle ways to make her remember the good times you shared.
Rolling my eyes, I add to the list:
2. Remind her of the good times.
I’m not sure I can manage to be subtle. I’m more of a blunt instrument. But I have plenty of time to mull over how I could be different. I continue scrolling, but that’s all the article has. God, I need more help than that. Returning to the search bar, I open another tab, which recommends acting like the guy she fell in love with so she remembers why she likes you. I can do that. I add it to the list. And then I add a fourth item: show her how I’ve changed for the better. I have no idea how I’ll do that—or if I even have. All I know is that I was blindsided by her decision to leave last time and I didn’t fight back. This time, I’m going to dig my heels in and stand strong.
Lowering the screen, I ponder how I can show her I’ll be there for her this time around. I could accompany her to the medical appointments. Pregnancy comes with all kinds of appointments and meetings. Surely one that uses IVF will have even more than most, and I can be there with her every step of the way. I retrieve my phone from the desk and send her a message.
Seth:When is your first appointment for the pregnancy stuff?
She doesn’t reply immediately, so I pocket the phone and return to the gym floor. Gabe, the most famous of my fighters, catches my eye and lifts a brow. He knows it’s unlike me to disappear into my office while they’re training. I shake my head, indicating I don’t want to talk about it, and he shrugs. He’s not the type to pry. It’s nice to know he’s interested though. Despite my position, I don’t have a lot of people I’d actually consider friends. Many of the guys here are at a different stage of life than I am. I’ve done my partying and sleeping around. I’m not interested in those things. Haven’t been in a long time. Fortunately, some of my longer-term fighters have found women and settled down, which gives us more common ground. But while I’m happy for them, seeing the way their girls look at them reminds me of how Ashlin used to gaze at me like she believed I could make all her dreams come true. It hurts, not gonna lie. But that’s my problem.
I spend a few minutes watching Jimmy spar with Buster, who’s a bull of a guy that hasn’t figured out how important cardiovascular endurance is for success. Jimmy is much smaller, but he’s agile and bobs and weaves easily around Buster’s bulky form. The kid is a natural. Cocky, and with a lot to learn, but he could go far if he keeps his head on straight.
My phone buzzes, and I snatch it from my pocket.
Ashlin:No appointments until after we have the results of your sperm count test. I’m taking prenatal vitamins and eating healthily. For now, that’s enough.
Shaking my head, I ward off disgust at the idea of having my swimmers tested. I’m sure they’re fine. I’m a fit guy in his thirties—never mind that I’m at the dark end of the decade. What could possibly be wrong with them?
Ashlin:Would you like me to come to the appointment with you? If you’re in, that is.
Would I like her to…? Hell, no.
My jaw clenches. It’ll embarrass me enough to hand my spunk over to someone in a lab coat without having her there to make it weirder.
