“Well, I wouldn’t quite put it like that…”
“You want to get me into bed, and you think this is the only way you can do it. Well, if I was to even consider this ludicrous offer, I can tell you now that sex wouldn’t be on the table, or anywhere else, in fact. I’d want your sperm in a cup, and I’d use a syringe and inseminate myself.”
“How romantic,” I say sarcastically.
She glares at me.
I lean my forearms on the table, closing the distance between us. “I’m guessing that because you’ve been to the fertility clinic, you know all the facts and figures, right? Forgetting about the syringe for a moment, there are two choices of insemination—Intra Uterine Insemination and In Vitro Fertilization?”
“Yes, I remember.”
“The success rate of IUI is seven to ten percent per cycle.”
“Yes, but IVF is fifty-five percent on the first try.”
“And the risks?”
She doesn’t reply, but her jaw knots. They would have warned her of the chance of multiple births, premature delivery, and low birth weight. And that she’d have to take fertility drugs. And not only that, but every cycle would cost her up to twenty thousand dollars. It wouldn’t be a small sum for a primary school teacher. I’m betting she’s saved up for one cycle, but after that, she’s going to struggle to get the money together.
“The success rate of getting pregnant the old-fashioned way,” I remind her, “if you have sex during ovulation, is around thirty percent. It’s better all ways round—mathematically, physically, and emotionally.”
She glares at me, because she knows I’m right.
“We can talk about every single part of this relationship,” I continue. “But sex is non-negotiable. If we do it, we do it properly. I’m not going to be a donor in the shadows.”
“So… you’re blackmailing me? Sex or no baby?”
I glower. “This might surprise you, but I didn’t think you’d find the idea so abhorrent. I thought you might enjoy the thought of being married to a young, rich guy who, at the risk of sounding egotistical, isn’t quite the Hunchback of Notre Dame.”
She bites her bottom lip, and I realize she’s trying not to laugh.
My lips curve up, and so do hers. I lean back, and we both have a mouthful of wine. I pick up the bottle and top us up, conscious of her gaze on me.
“I’m sorry,” she says eventually. “I appreciate that I sound ungrateful. You’ve made a very generous offer. But it’s not for me, Mars.”
“Why not?”
She frowns. “Because it’s not what I wanted.”
“You’d get a baby out of it. And a doting husband. Two for the price of one.”
This time she doesn’t smile. “For how long?”
“What do you mean?”
“I read the headlines. You’ve been out with, like, three hundred women this year.”
I roll my eyes. “Hardly.”
“You know what I mean. You’re constantly photographed with models and actresses. Women in designer dresses, withcoiffed hair and fake nails. Beautiful women. And yet you’re still single. It doesn’t say much for your stickability or faithfulness.”
I glare at her. “I’ve never cheated on a woman.”
“That’s not what I—”
“—and I never would. Ever. I’m serially monogamous.”
“Interesting distinction.”
