Page 70 of First Comes Forever

I shrug. “I don’t know. In my mind, it’ll be a boy.”

“Funny, I was picturing a girl.” Adam scoots toward me on the rolling stool and places his hands on my knees. “Remember a month ago when you asked if I’d ever scrolled the comments of a viral video? Well, I finally did it.”

“What video?” I ask.

“It was a baby with the most infectious laughter. He was lying on his back on the bed with balloon strings tied loosely around his wrists and ankles.” Adam waves his hands around in the air to demonstrate. “Every time he’d move, the balloons would fly around and he loved it. The mom was lying right next to him as the dad filmed. Everything was safe. I just kept thinking how clever that was for baby entertainment, so I was going to send it to you…but then I scrolled the comments.”

I roll my eyes as I inhale and exhale deeply. “Let me guess. There were trolls calling the baby ugly, Karens blaming the parents for child torture and endangerment. More trolls accusing the parents of being attention-seeking and using their baby as social media bait for views. Probably some more commenters griping about their bedroom decor.” I raise my eyebrows. “How am I doing here?”

“Right on the money. You basically got it all, except the long tangent about Taylor Swift and if she would treat her nonexistent baby that way.”

“Ah, yes,” I say with a chuckle. “That’s the golden rule about social media. In one way, shape or form, all viral videos will somehow lead to conversations about Taylor Swift.”

Adam laughs. “Poor woman. But my point is, I get it. And it’s not like I take those people seriously, but it’s a lot of aggressive opinions. If you’re constantly in the middle of that, I don’t know how you hear yourself think.”

“I haven’t been able to hear myself think for a while.” I place my hands on his cheeks. “But I’m getting there.”

“I’m proud of you, Amani. And as for your refresher classes, I’m happy to—”

I place my finger against his lips, silencing him. “Don’t you dare even think about offering to pay for classes.”

“It’s a baby expense,” he insists.

Adam does this often. All of my meals and groceries, my Netflix subscription, even my pedicures are somehow all “baby expenses” that he insists on covering as per our agreement. I used to think he pitied me, always throwing his money around, but then I realized it’s how Adam proves his commitment to our whole arrangement. He must feel guilty he isn’t offering his own sperm, so he tries to overcompensate in every other way possible. I wish he understood he doesn’t have to. He’s already done more for me than any sane man would.

A sturdy knock on the door interrupts us.

“We’ll talk about it later,” I say in a hurry before Dr. Michel enters the room. His salt-and-pepper hair is looking more salt than usual. Apparently, we’ve both had long summers.

“Ms. Rhodes, it’s so good to see you back. You look wonderful and healthy.”

I pat my stomach and gesture toward Adam, who is scrambling out of the doctor’s stool. “I put on a few. He makes me eat.”

Dr. Michel approaches Adam with his hand outstretched. “Ah, so you must be…?”

Adam shakes his hand. “Adam Montgomery. It’s nice to meet you.”

“So you went with a non-anonymous donor?” he asks me.

“Um, no, I’m using the same donor that I did with IUI. Adam is my, uh…” How do I explain this? I don’t want to be the first one to call him my boyfriend, especially not in front of Dr. Michel. “My emergency contact?”

Adam shoots me a narrow-eyed glance. “I’m her boyfriend,” he says firmly.

“But not the donor,” Dr. Michel seems to both ask and say.

“I’m funding this whole thing,” Adam explains, but when Dr. Michel still looks confused, he elaborates. “To clarify, if this was the Super Bowl, I’m not on the field playing…I’m just sponsoring the game. Consider me Bud Light.”

“Oh my God, Adam,” I murmur as I bury my face in my hands. But Dr. Michel is laughing, appreciating Adam’s humor.

“Okay, well, I’m assuming I’m fine to speak freely in front of Mr. Montgomery about your medical history?” Dr. Michel asks.

“Yes, go for it.”

“Okay, so let’s talk about the next steps. I’d like to get you on medication to increase your estrogen now. And then in about two weeks, we’ll start with ovarian stimulation. I’ll need you to come in daily so we can monitor the maturation of the eggs. My goal is to procure and extract at least twenty eggs—”

“Whoa,” Adam squawks with both palms in the air. “We just wantonebaby.” He looks at me and widens his eyes. “Right? You were thinking one baby, right?” He looks back at Dr. Michel and asks, “How many eggs does she need for one baby?”

“Adam, calm down,” I scold, my voice firm as I widen my eyes at him.

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