Page 26 of Headstrong Like Us
“And”—she rubs her splotchy face—“if you’re thinking of using Farrow’s sperm, I’d be more than happy to donate my eggs.” Quickly, she adds, “Obviously I’m not trying to be the mom in this situation. I’m just more of an aunt, but at the very least, you’d have full trust in the egg donor, and as cousins, I share some DNA with Moffy, so it’s almost as though you’re having a biological child together.”
My eyes are on Farrow. Because he has his fingers threaded through his bleach-white hair, stunned. He moves off the wall, and I step back from Jane.
He hugs her, and very deeply, he says, “Thank you.”
She sniffs back more tears and squeezes him tightly. I smile, and it’s hard to think there was a time where I worried they wouldn’t get along.
After they pull apart, I ask, “Does Thatcher know?”
“Oui.” She nods. “He’s more than okay with this, if it’s what you two choose.” She throws up her hands to me. “There’s absolutelynorush. You can take years to decide, and you can always sayno.I just wanted to extend the offer before you get married.” She smiles at Farrow. “And just so you know, this announcement isn’t your birthday gift.”
He lets out a deep laugh. “Hate to break it to you, Cobalt, but what you just gave me can’t be topped.”
Tears well with her brightening smile. She brushes her fingers under her long lashes. “I’m glad you think so.”
I hug Janie again and whisper,thank you.About a billion times, and then she leaves the daycare. With a soft glance, Farrow and I acknowledge that we want privacy for a few more minutes, maybe an hour or more—so we end up sitting on these miniature plastic chairs.
Farrow picks up a Batman action figure, his inked fingers shifting with precision and consideration over the plastic joints and cape. “I’m surprised your dad let little kids play with DC toys.”
“Begrudgingly. He always told my mom that they were doing a disservice to future generations by spoiling them with crap.”
Farrow smiles. “Sounds like your dad.” His brown eyes flit up to me. “What do you think, wolf scout?”
I rest my forearms on my thighs, the tiniest chair uncomfortable under my ass, but I couldn’t be more comfortable in this room with Farrow. A man I trust and love. “I want to have kids with you down the line, but I haven’t thought much abouthowwe’re having them. Until now.” I rake a hand through my thick hair. “Have you thought about it?”
“How I’m going to have kids?” he repeats.
“Yeah, even before me. When you were younger, did you have an idea of what you wanted to do?”
“Not a big one.” Farrow places the toy Batman down. “I didn’t dwell on that shit. I knew it’d be dependent on my husband.”
I feel an uncontrollable smile grow on my face.That husband is going to be me.I look to the left so he’s not seeing the brunt-force of any lovesick emotion. But when I glance back, he’s smiling too knowingly. Like I just jerked off to his photos in a scrapbook with hearts drawn around his face.
“Need a private moment?” he teases.
“Away from you? Always. Give me three millenniums.” I wait for him to add his technicality about me not living that long, but he’s just grinning. I gesture to him. “You’re finally conceding and realizing immortality could potentially exist, and that I’m immortal.” Triumphantly, I lean back on the tiny chair. And then I almost tip backwards. “Jesus.” I catch myself and bow forwards.
Farrow laughs hard.
My neck heats, and I flip him off with two fingers. His laugh is just a know-it-all smile now. And his eyes brush over my eyes with this quiet affection that tunnels into me.
“You want to adopt?” he asks gently.
“Maybe.” I run my thumb over my tensed knuckles. “There are a lot of kids who need parents and good homes, and I wouldn’t want to shut the door on that option. Unless you’d rather just go the surrogacy route.” I soak up Farrow’s features.
His natural brown roots growing in, his strong jawline, and his beautiful, earth-shattering cheek-to-cheek smile that some little kid should have one day.
I lick my dry lips, trying to find the words. “How selfish is it that I want to see you in our kids?”
“You’re very,veryhuman.”
“Humans are selfish,” I tell him.
His lip quirks. “Yeah, we are.” His fingers skate through his hair. “Look, I haven’t obsessed over who I want as a surrogate or egg donor before, but I have thought about adoption versus surrogacy—and I want the selfish, biological thing. I’ve dreamed about it, and if press ever asks me, I’m going to be extremely unapologetic about that.”
I nod a couple times, understanding. But I say, “I haven’t decided if I’d want to use my sperm.”
“I figured.”
