A Baby Affair (Parent Portal 2)

He’d seen his last patient at three. Had changed clothes, mounted the bike he’d ridden to work that morning, and an hour later, he still hadn’t made it home.

“Craig Harmon,” he answered, exactly as he had the first time.

“What kind of doctor are you?”

No introduction. As though she assumed he’d recognize her number. Or was just rude and didn’t care.

The woman wasn’t impressing him as a person he could feel comfortable with raising his child.

More his problem than hers.

Still an issue, though.

“A general practitioner,” he said, knowing full well that she had the upper hand.

And that he had a need that couldn’t be ignored.

“Where?”

“Oceanfront Clinic.” Named after the town hospital with which they were associated. If she planned to have her baby in a hospital, and in Marie Cove, it would be at Oceanfront.

But they could get to that later.

“What do you want?”

Blunt. Proving his “rude” theory correct? She sure wasn’t doing anything to help him like her.

Not that she needed him to.

He was the one who needed that. To like her.

A car sped past. Moving farther off to the side, but still a safe enough distance from the cliff edge, he glanced out at the ocean that had been at his back since the day he was born. Thirty-four years of a mostly successful partnership.

What did he want?

“I’d like to meet with you,” he said.

“Why?”

“I’d like to discuss that in person, if you’re willing to do so.”

“You have no rights to this child.”

“I’m not asking for any.” He frowned. In all the ways he’d played this conversation over the past few days, it hadn’t gone this way. Him not being in control. Not sure of how to get to his end goals. “Per my agreement with the clinic I have the right to know who used my sperm if I ask, and I asked.”

“Why are you asking?”

“A conversation,” he said now. “I... For personal reasons I just need to make certain, to see for myself, that the child you’re carrying is going to be well cared for. Well loved.”

“Excuse me?”

“Please. That’s all I’m looking for. Reassurance. And then I’m out of your life for good.” Assuming he got the reassurance he was looking for.

And if he didn’t? It wasn’t like he had any rights to do anything about it.

So why not just let it go? Let her go?

“You signed the papers, giving me the right to contact the recipient of my biological donation, either to impart newly determined information regarding anything that could affect the fetus, or to request information.” He suddenly saw the way ahead, right or wrong, for the sake of his unborn child. She clearly was resistant to his presence in her life. “I also have the right to request contact with the child.”