Page 99 of Rebel Bride
Rosie flicked a glance at me, then at her sister. “I know you and Sean have been friends forever but … a baby?”
I had an equally important follow-up. “Are you in love with him?”
Her expression indicated that was complete nonsense. “No, I am not. Sean and I are friends, but we are not compatible in a romantic way. I’m not sure I would be compatible with anyone, but I do want to have a child. After much deliberation and analysis of the data, I’ve concluded that Sean would make the most likely donor.”
She took out her phone and opened what looked like a spreadsheet. Excel on a tiny screen was a pain in the ass, but I could tell she had put work into it.
Rosie moved to her other side and said the obvious. “Those are mostly Rebels players.”
“All the single ones,” Franky clarified. “And a few more men of my acquaintance. Academics and the like.”
“But you said athletes aren’t the most evolved,” I said.
“No, but I don’t need that in a donor. That trait can be learned, nurtured. I’m mostly interested in a donor with good genes, no history of disease, and an easygoing temperament. A stud, in the animal sense. Sean meets those requirements.”
Okay. “Do you mind me asking why you’re doing it this way?”
Rosie cut in. “Summer’s right. You’re a super interesting woman, smart, capable, and funny as hell. Don’t you want to meet someone and raise a baby together?”
She answered with no hesitation. “As clichéd as it sounds, my biological clock is ticking. I’m thirty-eight years old. Even if I met someone today, it would take months, maybe years to develop the relationship to the stage a child was in the picture. Plenty of women manage this alone. I have the resources and the desire. I just need the genetic material.”
I took the phone from her and looked the list over. Each candidate had comments beside them, such as “good plus-minus” and “arthritic grandparent.”
Hockey and health stats as your baby batter criteria?
I noticed Hatch wasn’t on there, possibly because he was too close to her family. (She had once been his babysitter, after all.) He was also younger, and this list skewed toward candidates in the thirty-plus range. Jason Isner was on it, but struck through—the only player who was, with the single, damning footnote: “Temperamentally unsuitable.”
“Dash is single again. You could put him on here.”
“I don’t think he would make a good candidate. Likely, his family would require complex paperwork to ensure any child of the union doesn’t have a claim on the Carter family fortune. Plus, no offense, Summer, he’s a Grade-A jerk.”
None taken. It sounded like she had really thought this through.
“Why are you asking Sean tonight?”
“He’s going back to Boston tomorrow. I’m prepared to fly out there for insemination visits, but I’d prefer to discuss the details in person.”
Rosie grasped her arm. “Insemination visits? Like sex?”
Franky shook her head. “I’ll be using what’s commonly referred to as the ‘turkey baster’ method. But I need the donor material to be hot off the presses, so to speak.”
“I think you’re amazing,” I said.
She blinked. “You do? Most people would view it as odd behavior.”
“Rather than waiting for something to happen, you’re going for it. It’s so brave.”
Rosie nodded. “It is. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
Franky smiled indulgently. “This is purely a business arrangement. No feelings involved whatsoever, except my case of baby fever and the maternal ones I’ll have for my progeny.” She pocketed her phone. “I’ll take care of the snails, then attend to the other.”
Rosie gave her a hug. “You can leave the snails until later, if you like.”
Once she left, Rosie looked at the door, her gaze thoughtful. “I wish guys could see her the way I do.”
“She’s lucky to have you for a sister.”
“I’m the lucky one. She and Kat—that’s my other sister—have always been there for me. Our family is an unusual blend, but I’ve never been in any doubt that I had these people on my side.”
