It was David’s turn to nod. “So…it isn’t possible that I’ve sired a child.” Why did saying that out loud make his chest ache? Was that disappointment bittering his tongue? His body tight, he sat forward in the seat, preparing to leave the office and the strange anger behind.
Dr. Branchard clicked his tongue, tsking. “Now, I wouldn’t say that.”
Those words were not what David expected to hear. His heart thudding, he asked, “What do you mean?”
“I said typically. Typically, it presents in sterility, but that isn’t always the case. As with all things, nothing is certain when it comes to the human body’s ability to overcome its own disabilities. While your reproductive organs were damaged, they did heal. In some cases, healing doesn’t always mean regaining the ability to reproduce, but in rare cases… If you believe that perhaps you’ve fathered a child, I wouldn’t discount it.”
David couldn’t form words around the lump of disbelief in his throat. Was it possible? Could he have fathered Diana’s baby?
“Tell you what…why don’t I run some tests. We can check your sperm levels to determine if you really are sterile.”
Without hesitating, David agreed. He’d head to the laboratory as soon as he left Branchard’s office.
“If you go today, we can have the results by the end of the week.”
Hours after the appointment, Branchard’s words pounded through David’s brain.
It could be possible. He could be a father. Despite his using condoms with her, there was a possibility that his swimmers actually swum. That she hadn’t lied when she’d claimed he was the father. But how did that really make him feel, and why did he even need to ask that question?
He should feel panicked, anxious, angry. Surely Diana would use her pregnancy as a tool for getting her hands on his money. Surely. Right?
Back in his flat, after jacking off into a cup at the lab, he let his thoughts whirl, the tension overriding the excitement he’d felt earlier when he’d sent Diana flowers. He’d been so eager to see her again, to touch her again, that he’d put aside reason. Self-preservation.
But now that he’d spoken with the doctor, there was so much more to consider.
One thing was for certain…he wouldn’t be able to think with Diana around. And above all, he needed time to think.
Without giving himself time to reconsider, he sent Diana a text, cancelling their dinner. No reason given. No reason needed. If she was who he thought she was, she didn’t deserve it.
But…the doubts remained, as did the notification saying that Diana had left a voicemail.
Chapter 17
The text cancelling their dinner came through and Diana stared down at it for a moment, blinking. For some reason, she wasn’t surprised, but that didn’t stop the mix of relief and—dare she even think it—disappointment.
She couldn’t be disappointed in David. He’d made no promises.
Once she cleaned out her desk and trudged home, her brain and body numb, she tucked in and did what needed to be done.
Despite the radio silence from David, she spent the next two weeks job hunting, going over the budget to cut all but the necessary expenditures, and moving her obstetrics file to a doctor in Edison where the co-pay wouldn’t break the bank.
Head hanging over the dinette table, she didn’t see her mom come into the kitchen. During the years of Diana’s adolescence, her mother had learned to walk around the house like a ninja, ready to catch Diana in whatever shenanigans she was preparing to unleash on Deirdre. Diana rarely got away with anything.
“Bad night?” her mother asked, moving to the coffee pot to pour herself a mug of the four-hour old brew. Deirdre had made it before she’d gone to class, and the scent of if teased Diana until she sobbed over her mug of decaf.
She wasn’t crying now, though, the tears having dried out.
Not surprisingly, she had been crying a lot lately, and why not? Her life was shit.
Her job was in the toilet, she hadn’t heard from David, and it seemed that she had been black-balled from every other law firm in New York and New Jersey.
Whatever those partners had done to her was spreading. She had no doubt that they’d promised Ayers an investigation but what they really wanted was to make an example of her. Now, even if they did “investigate,” she knew what their findings would be. She had slept with David Brenner, there was no denying that, so they’d filet her, nail her bloody flesh to their wall, and leave her there as a banner of what would happen if you fucked with the elite assholes of Kilgore, Ayers, Beecham.
Finally realizing her mom was waiting for her to speak, Diana muttered, “Bad month.” Then she groaned, rubbing the back of her neck where her shoulders met.
Her mother sat down across from her, cold coffee in hand.
“There isn’t a word I can speak that would alleviate the weight on your shoulders, Diana. You made a mistake, and now you’re paying for it.”
Diana sneered. “Gee, thanks, Ma.”
Her mother glared at her. “Don’t use that tone with me, Diana Marie Bluth. You know what you did, and now you have to deal with the shit that comes with it. You know your sister and I will do all we can to pick up the slack, and I know you will find a job that will grant you maternity leave, and we will get back on our feet before the baby comes. I have faith that what has happened was meant to happen, because babies are never accidents. Never. And it isn’t that baby’s fault that her father is an arrogant asshole with super sperm.”
Diana couldn’t help it, she laughed at that.
“Super sperm,” she wailed teasingly. “Really, Mom?”
She shrugged. “How else do you explain your pregnancy?”
Diana sat back, knowing her mother was right. As she usually was.
That baby might not have been expected, but it was wanted, and no matter what, Diana would find a way to get through all that life
