“I heard your end of the conversation the other day,” I said, weighing his reaction to every word. “Kristen and I are going through the fertility nightmare too.”

Micah is a big guy with two gold earrings and a thinning ponytail. He’s got a barrel chest and forearms that don’t look like any other cook’s I’ve seen. He could punch me out. Instead, he nodded his head slightly.

“Yeah,” he said. “You too?”

“On and off again,” I said. “With the wife I have, I doubt she’ll ever give up.”

“I have one of those too,” he said while lifting a bottle of good tequila from the back bar. Next he proceeded to pour a healthy shot in a coffee mug for me; the glassware was already in the washer, and he likes to leave nothing in the sink for the next day. I waited for him to get his own in the cup he was drinking from.

We knocked them back together.

“It’s rough,” Micah told me, before revealing that it was tougher on his wife. By far. “I have two kids with Darla,” he said, “so I know it’s not me.”

I motioned for another shot—because it was Patrón. And it was free. Only one of which is a good reason to drink. The free part has always been my downfall. I live on the bottom shelf at the liquor store. The truth was, I’ve been working on being an alcoholic since my DUI. Maybe I already was one back then? Who knows?

Micah poured the booze.

“Yeah,” I said. “Me too.”

He gave me a wary look. “I didn’t know you had a kid before Kristen.”

No one at the restaurant did. It’s not something I would ever discuss. Not even a mention.

“Not before,” I admitted. “It’s something I don’t talk about with Kristen or anyone. I just know—like you do—that it isn’t me who can’t get the job done.”

He pulled back and didn’t press the point.

“Puts us in a real bind,” Micah said, offering another shot.

I covered my empty glass. I’m smart enough to know that I can’t get drunk with Chef here. He’s the owner too.

“Yeah,” I told him. “Every month we go through the same thing over and over. It kills me, and it’s killing her. She doesn’t want to give up and adopt or do IVF with someone else’s more viable eggs. She wants her own.”

“Sarah is the same,” he said. “I’ve told her that we could adopt, and of course, she already has a couple of stepkids. Not good enough. Wants her own baby. Like it’s some kind of fucking badge of honor to be a mother.”