Her Motherhood Wish (Parent Portal 3)

“Maybe we could all three go to lunch?”

Maybe. She’d be interested. And was family. Sister-in-law, wife for a minute, ex-wife and now? He didn’t know what. Family that he loved in a nonromantic way. Still, he’d rather meet Cassie himself first, though he had no logical reason for the preference. “I can ask, but she’s in her third year of a four-year residency and doesn’t have a lot of free time.”

“But you do.”

“I work a day job,” he reminded her, in case she’d forgotten the file she’d have read four months before. Or thought that he’d changed careers in the six years since he’d answered those questions. “My hours are boringly predictable.”

“I’d actually like to meet you,” she said, giving him a feeling of pleasure. “As long as you’re sure that it’s just a meeting between sperm donor and recipient.”

“You want me to have Elaina call you?” He was being completely sincere.

“Is that too nuts?”

Hell, he didn’t know.

Not in today’s world, it probably wasn’t.

“I’m sorry,” Cassie said before he could make arrangements for the call. “I’m a lawyer. I like everything tied up neatly so there are no surprises...”

Hence calling her donor the second she thought she could possibly need his bone marrow. He was getting it.

“And yet...life has a way of giving them to you anyway,” he said softly. In the form of an abnormal ultrasound, in this case. Then added, “The offer for lunch is there if you want it. No pressure.” He’d rather not involve Elaina at that point, but he would if Cassie needed him to.

“What about Saturday?”

Retro was back. Had been for a while. Wood was done throwing. “Give me a time and place and I’ll be there,” he said. She named a diner not far from the clinic. Independently owned, the place was bright and airy and known for putting on great brunches. He’d been there a time or two.

“How will I know you?” he asked, refusing to delve into reasons why he didn’t want Elaina to know yet what was going on. This baby thing...it was his. Not a part of familial obligations or Peter’s memory, either.

“I’ll text you a selfie,” she said. “And could you text me one of you, too?”

“Yeah, sure,” he told her, feeling relieved all of a sudden at her agreement to let him help. He quickly checked himself. Meeting this woman, whose baby had a potential health problem that could stem from him, was not a cause for feeling good about life.

But if he could help her...

That made perfect sense.

Chapter Three

Cassie wasn’t opposed to falling in love, getting married and living happily ever after. Or living in the trenches with someone and fighting life’s battles together. It just hadn’t happened for her. She couldn’t force love. But she could create a family of her own.

She’d explained it all to her mom and stepdad first. Then her friends, and finally, the other lawyers in the firm. All without qualms. She couldn’t sit around and expect others to make her happy. Finding her own joy, building a happy life, was her responsibility, and she was on it.

Yet, Saturday morning, when she got out of the shower and had to choose what to wear to lunch with her tiny family’s sperm donor, she was in a quandary. Defensive. Like she had to justify being a single woman having a baby on her own. Afraid he wouldn’t agree with her reasoning to create a one-parent household. Or that he’d find her lacking somehow in her inability to find a spouse.

Ludicrous. All of it.

He’d texted his photo to her the night before. She’d seen the message come through with a photo but hadn’t opened it. She didn’t need it until she got to the restaurant.

She’d decided to wait to text him a photo of herself until she was dressed for the day, thinking he’d be better able to recognize her if he knew what she’d be wearing. Not that color was an issue. Her wardrobe was all black and white, with an occasional hint of red thrown in. Jeans, business suits, shorts, leggings, swimwear, solids, striped and plaid—all black and white.

Maybe she just didn’t want to give him a lot of time to find fault with her before he even met her. She wasn’t a great beauty, most particularly by California standards. She had the stereotypical blond hair and blue eyes, but her features were strong, not soft. Angular. Like the rest of her. At five eleven, there was nothing petite about her. And while her body had grown taller than the average woman, her boobs hadn’t followed suit. They weren’t big. And she didn’t giggle. Ever.

But she could soften her edges.

Decision made.

The black-and-white tie-dyed sundress with tiny sleeve caps covering her bony shoulders came off its hanger, and black flip-flops completed the ensemble.