I swirl around the black coffee in my mug. “I need to talk to Sam about it.”

Monica flashes her teeth at me. She has great teeth. White and straight. I wonder if she had orthodontist work. Would it be inappropriate to ask?

Yes. Yes it would.

Chapter 5

“No. Absolutely not. No way. Are you out of your mind?”

Sam doesn’t seem enthusiastic about the idea of Monica being a surrogate for us.

I brought it up in the best possible way. I cooked him his favorite dinner—pan-fried chicken with a side of creamed spinach. He seemed shocked by the food, considering the state I was in last night. But I could tell he was chalking it up to my enthusiasm over our future adoption prospects and I didn’t correct him. Then I waited until he had cleaned his plate and was nursing a full belly to bring up Monica’s proposal.

“You’re not even going to think about it?” I say.

Sam pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “If you asked me if I wanted to jump off a bridge and I said no, would you ask me if I needed to think about it?”

“Stop being melodramatic.”

“Melodramatic? I’m the only one being sane.”

Despite my initial reservations, I’ve been warming to Monica’s idea over the last ten or so hours. The more I think about it, the more I realize this is the answer to our prayers.

“You’ve met Monica,” I say. “She’s really great. I can’t imagine a better person to donate eggs.”

He squints at me. “Which one was Monica? The blond with freckles?”

“No, she has dark hair and dark eyes. She… uh, she actually looks a little like me.”

“I don’t know.” He shakes his head. “I don’t remember if I met her. It doesn’t matter though. It’s a terrible idea.”

“Give me one good reason.”

“One!” Sam bursts out, his ears turning red. Despite everything, I can’t help but think Sam looks sexy when he’s angry. No wonder his students are always calling here. “I’ll give you five good reasons.”

“Fine. Give me five reasons.”

“One.” He holds up a finger—not the middle one, thankfully. “Won’t it be awkward to work with the woman carrying your baby?”

“She said she’d quit once she’s showing.”

He ignores me. “Two—paying for graduate school isn’t exactly cheap.”

“Cheaper than an adoption. And we can afford it.”

“You can afford it.”

“We can afford it.”

He rolls his eyes, but doesn’t comment further. “Three,” he goes on, “what if she changes her mind?”

“This wouldn’t be a standard adoption contract,” I point out. “I mean, she’d be using your sperm so you’d have a legal claim to the baby.”