My assistant shifts nervously between her black heels, her dark eyes darting around the room. God, she reminds me so much of myself at her age. I was so young and eager to please back then—tripping over myself to try to make Denise happy, and then beating myself up if I brought her coffee in an insensitive mug. (Not that anything on a mug could have upset Denise Holt.) Part of me is really relieved to be past that part of my life.

And part of me is so jealous of young, carefree Monica that I want to spit.

“It’s so wonderful that you’re trying to adopt though,” she says. “There are so many children out there who need homes. I know you’ll find the right one for you. Why put more children in the world when you can take in one who needs you, right?”

“Right,” I say. I hesitate, wondering if anyone has shared this piece of gossip with Monica or if I should clue her in. Oh, what the hell. “The truth is, though, Sam and I did try to have a child of our own, but… we couldn’t.”

“Oh.” She sucks in a breath. “I didn’t realize. Did you try IVF? That’s what my cousin did.”

I nod, not wanting to go through the whole painful story. “It… didn’t work.”

“That’s awful…”

I shrug, as if I couldn’t care less. As if I didn’t cry over every negative pregnancy test.

“Aren’t there women who could carry the pregnancy to term for you?” she asks. “I’ve heard of, like, one sister carrying a pregnancy for another? Couldn’t you do that?”

I shake my head. “I don’t have any sisters up for the task.”

“Yes, but… what about someone else?”

A surrogate pregnancy was something I had been considering for a brief time. Sam was the one who vetoed that idea.

“It’s a lot to ask of someone… I mean, we’d be using their egg and their uterus, so we’d be asking them to get pregnant with their own child just to give it up.” I clear my throat. “We’re really excited about adopting now. We’ve moved past that.”

No, I will never have a newborn. But Sam’s right—that’s not important. We want to become parents. I know I’ll love whatever child we’ll take into our home.

“Anyway.” I turn back to my computer. “Let me prep for the meeting at ten. I don’t want to be unprepared. Do you have photocopies of the mockup I sent you?”

“Yes, fifteen copies.”

“The projector is set up?”

“Yes, and your presentation is loaded.”