The mess was entirely my fault. With his long hair, as glossy as a blackbird’s wing, and his hard, fit body, Luke was an utter ride. I was happy to spend time—lots of it—in his bed but not to be seen with him in public (seriously, I was awful). He finally ran out of patience with me at the same time as I crashed, burned and ended up in rehab in Ireland.

Almost a year and a half later, when a new, clean-and-sober me returned to New York to make amends to Luke, it quickly became clear that the connection we’d once had was still there.

And we were so happy, all about Doing Things Right This Time. Even though we had full-time jobs we both started evening classes—neither of us had been to third-level but now we were keen to ‘better ourselves’.

Then shit got really real when I instigated the ‘kids conversation’.

‘Luke, do you want to have babies? Children?’

He paused. ‘Not right now.’

‘How strongly do you feel about it?’

Another pause. ‘I see my brothers and, like, they’re wrecked the whole time. And they live in Ireland, close to family, who help out. We’re here and we don’t have anyone to pick up the slack. What do you think?’

‘Same. I think I want them but it’s safer to get a career sorted, steady income, maybe even a mortgage and all that, first.’

‘Cool!’

So we were agreed that there was to be no rushing, no crazy impromptu decisions, nothing like the way I used to live. I had become one of those women with a five-year plan. Worse, I was proud of it.

The only worry was that my GP had said that we—and she mostly meant me—might be already on the decline, fertility-wise.

‘So,’ I remember saying to Luke, ‘in case we need a contingency plan, we’re getting checked out next Tuesday.’

‘Oh yeah? How does that go down?’

‘I have a scan to count my eggs and your sperm would get tested, to see if it’s…healthy?’ Was that the word? ‘Enough of it? Good at swimming?’

‘But how would it be tested?’ He seemed a little anxious. ‘Where would they get it?’

‘At the clinic. You’d, aaaah, do it there.’

‘You mean, I’d have to…’ He went pale. ‘Oh God, Rachel. I’d have to…do it, right there?’

‘In a cubicle, I guess. Not, like, in the waiting area.’

I wasn’t wild about the idea either. Luke in a small, bare room with a load of pre-used porn made me feel squeamish, jealous and oddly turned on.

He put his face in his hands and groaned. ‘Rachel…’ Then, ‘This is important to you?’

‘If everything is okay, we can park that issue while we get the rest of our lives in place.’ I added, ‘It will give us peace of mind.’