Page 31 of A Really Bad Idea

“Marrying an asshole who doesn’t know how to treat a woman right isn’t your fault.” His fingers dig lightly into my skin.

There are so many things I want to say in response to that, but that’s a whole other discussion to be had. “I’m not old, but I’m not young. We’re both medical professionals, so let’s stop playing the game that I have all the time in the world. I have two years to make a serious decision, and I want to be as educated as possible on what my options are.”

“That’s plenty of time to meet someone—”

“And, if I don’t, I will have just wasted two more years.”

He lets go of my knee and runs his fingers through his hair. “Meadow, you’re gorgeous and smart and sexy as fuck. You’re funny and kind, and by God, if you’re not married by thirty-five, I might snatch you up myself because any man would be a fucking asshole not to take you as his own.”

I grab my untouched whiskey and take a large gulp. As the burn travels into my belly, I try not to act affected by how he just called me funny and kind and smart—oh, and sexy as fuck.

“Thank you. That is really kind of you, but there’s also the factor of me not wanting to get snatched up just because my ovaries have a sell-by date. That’s the point of this. I still want to fall in love.” I take another swig of whiskey and make a face at the burn that creeps down my throat and settles in my chest. I loudly place the glass on the coffee table. “It’s so frustrating. As a woman, I can do everything on my own. Except get pregnant. I think it’s God’s way of making sure we don’t kill off your species.”

“Glad we have a purpose.”

I blow out a large breath. “Brooks is looking kinda good right now.”

His eyebrows furrow as his teeth graze his lower lip. That chiseled jaw sharpens. His intense eyes darken as they stare into space and then shoot back at me with a sudden burst of internal knowledge, like whatever he was just thinking about brought on the greatest idea in history.

“Have a baby with me,” he declares.

I stutter, “What?”

“Let’s have a baby.” It’s not a question. It’s a proclamation.

I try to blink away my shock, cataloging his very serious face. For a man who is the smartest person I’ve ever met, his ludicrous idea has me questioning his sanity.

My head tilts to the side as my eyes narrow. “Me and you?”

“Yes.”

I lean back to gain some space from him. And some oxygen. My lungs suddenly feel heavy, and the air in the room is thick.

“Christian, I want a baby, but I’m not gonna have one with just anyone.”

He motions toward the laptop. “Yeah, you kinda are.”

My jaw drops as I try not to be hurt by the greatest insult he’s ever thrown at me.

He holds up his hands and shakes his head. “I’m saying that wrong. What I mean is, you’re considering using a sperm donor, which is someone you don’t know. Hell, earlier, you joked about just walking into a bar and getting knocked up. I know you weren’t serious—well, I think you weren’t serious—but the fact is, I’d rather be the father of your child than you choosing a stranger you know nothing about.”

I point toward Brooks’s profile. “I know he likes to paddleboard and enjoys spicy Mexican food.” It’s a joke made for a very uncomfortable conversation. Christian doesn’t seem to think I’m funny. “Okay, fine. Yes, if I’m thirty-five and still single, then I will let you knock me up.”

“Good,” he says. His shoulders relax as he leans forward, resting an elbow on his knee.

I want to throw my hands up and scream at him. I wasn’t being serious. “No, Christian, that won’t work.”

His head swivels toward me, a look of utter confusion on his face.

“You’ll be thirty-five, too. You’d be a father. You don’t want to have kids until you’re at least forty.”

“That’s not entirely true.”

I stare and wait for him to explain. He looks like he’s working something out in his head as he takes a moment to answer.

“I want kids. I just don’t want to settle down. I always thought the two were mutually exclusive.” He grabs my hands, holding on to them as he explains, “Meadow, sitting in Dr. Abbot’s office made me realize all the things I don’t want. I don’t want you to go through the shots and hormones and to have surgery. I don’t want you to pick some random guy to father your child. I don’t want you to spend an astronomical amount of money to have a baby. I don’t want you to have to go through IVF on the off chance your pregnancy might be successful. And, most of all, I don’t want you to have a baby on your own. I know you’re strong, and if anyone can do it, you can. But you shouldn’t have to because you have me.”

Thicker. The air is even thicker, and I’m having a hard time breathing. “Christian—”