Listen, Pitch (There's No Crying in Baseball 3)

Shit, I’d really screwed up.

I’d really wanted to take her out, show her off, and introduce her to my teammates as well as their wives.

I’d thought that taking her to this concert, one of her favorite bands she’d told me, would be a good way to show everyone that we were together—other than hearsay based on what little the press had been able to garner from when I’d hauled Henley off the field after being hurt my first game back.

That, and I wanted to do something really nice for her before I upended her life tomorrow.

But I wouldn’t subject her to something that she didn’t enjoy.

I’d just have to find her something else that she wanted to do.

Tomorrow was the big day. The day that we met with a doctor about surrogacy.

Henley hadn’t wasted any time. The moment we’d gotten home from visiting my sister and her new little baby, she’d started research.

Then she’d had a talk with each doctor’s office and had chosen a few based on reviews, medical awards, and word of mouth.

I hadn’t even realized that she’d done all the leg work until she’d come back and given me two doctors to choose from.

After I’d chosen one, she’d then gone ahead and made the appointment—for later that week—three days from then. Two days had sped by so fast that I wasn’t nearly as prepared as I thought I was.

In fact, I was downright nervous.

It wasn’t every day that you started the process of getting not one baby made, but two.

“Rhys?”

I turned to find Henley staring at me.

“Yeah?”

“Are you okay?” she asked, looking worried.

I nodded, shaking my head to straighten it out.

I was getting a headache. One that I knew would likely not feel too great by the end of the night—but that was par for the course at this point in my life. I’d be more surprised if I didn’t have a headache by the end of each day.Chapter 24I don’t always act my age, but when I do, it’s fucking boring.

-Coffee Cup

Henley

“Normally we deposit two fertilized embryos in each surrogate. However, if you choose, we can add up to three, or leave it at just one. We’re not willing to do any more than three embryos, though. Since you’re doing two…I would suggest keeping it at two or less,” Dr. Cane said, his eyes moving from me to Rhys and back. “Are you sure that you want to do two surrogates?”

We both nodded.

“In that case, we can start this entire process as early as next week. We actually have three surrogates right now that had started the hormone therapy for an elderly couple out of Dallas, but the man suffered a heart attack and they decided to hold off. If you’re willing, you can go with two of those. If you’re not willing to take two of those three, you’ll have to, of course, choose your surrogate. We have a list of surrogates here you can choose from, or you can choose your own. Whatever you feel most comfortable with,” Dr. Cane continued. “That process of getting them into the regimen and hormone therapy can take upwards of three months.”

I looked over at Rhys.

I didn’t know anyone that could or would be a surrogate. That left it up to Rhys or the list that the doctor had. And I was fairly sure if we didn’t go with two of the three that were already ready for the embryos to be placed, that might be pushing it for us. A year was a very short span of time.

“I think we’ll be more comfortable going with a surrogate that’s been vouched for. With me being a professional baseball player, I’m unsure that I want to find someone on my own just in case this gets out.” He paused. “I’m sure there’s plenty of people out there that would love to hold this over my head in hopes of gaining something.”

Dr. Cane didn’t even blink. “You’re not the first client that feels that way. Every surrogate we have has been professionally vouched. A full FBI background check has been done on each, all you have to do is choose the one that you’re most comfortable with.”

Five minutes later, Rhys and I were standing out in the hallway that led from Dr. Cane’s office.

“Well? What do you want to do?” I asked quietly.

He looked at me with defeat in his eyes. “I don’t think we really have a choice. We have to use them. Three months could be too late.”

He was right. It could.

***

Overall, it took us a month to get everything ready to go.

The two donors that we’d chosen had continued their hormone therapy while I started one of my own to help with egg production.

The day before Rhys’ first playoff game, after various tests and a verification that I wasn’t pregnant myself, we found ourselves back in Dr. Cane’s office once again.