He looks like he’s going to put up a fight, so I turn back to the lawyer with a decisive nod. “Go ahead.”
When Frank makes it through the entire contract, I ask for a few minutes alone with my future baby daddy. I need to make sure we're on the same page.
The lawyer grabs his briefcase. “I’ll leave you two alone to discuss things. When you’re ready, please come find me in Cannon’s office.”
Then the old man is gone, leaving Walker and me alone in the tense room.
After sitting next to my nervous friend for the better part of an hour, I feel the need to give him an out. I need to give him the chance to graciously bow out of our crazy game. Even if it breaks my heart.
I grab his arm lightly, swiveling my chair to face him completely.
“You good?” I ask softly.
I stare into honey brown eyes, darkened by his frown. “Mmm-hmm,” he says with an unsure nod. “You?”
“Listen, Walker—if you need to walk away from this, tell me right now. Right here. I can’t afford to get any more invested in this, and neither can you, if we're only going to be let down in the end. So if you’re not sure, we can forget this right now." I gesture to the contracts. "We can tear these up and forget they ever existed."
It physically pains me to say all that. I want this with Walker. When I was planning my single mother journey, I’d never considered having him as my donor. But now, it’s the only option I want. Still, I won't force him into something he can't handle. Our friendship is too important to me.
Walker meets me with a little smile, and it warms me from the inside out. “Not a chance,” he tells me firmly. "Not a fucking chance."
But I don't miss the slight tremble in his hand when he picks up his clickety-clackety pen and signs his sperm away.
16
Walker
I pull my phone out of my front pocket and check the time. Again.
Fuck. This night is dragging.
Cannon insisted that after Frank came all the way here from New York City to help Penny and me sort out our legal bullshit, the least I could do was take the man out for a drink.
Okay, fine. That's fair, I guess.
Now, we're here at the Frosty Pitcher in a booth at the back and I'm trying to do my best impression of someone who gives a shit about social norms.
It hasn’t been going too well for me, though.
Because Penny is behind the bar, wearing tight jeans with a glittery scrap of a shirt that reveals whispers of her cleavage and midriff, talking and laughing as she mixes up cocktails for rowdy patrons. And despite my conscious efforts to look away, my attention always creeps back in her direction within minutes.
My brother and his lawyer have spent most of the night discussing some legal issues surrounding Cannon's tech company in New York. I’ve zoned in and out of the conversation.
Eventually Cannon slides out of his seat, explaining that he needs to call and check up on Lexi who's having a quiet night in with Iris and Jessa.
I make eye contact with the lawyer.
He nods.
I nod.
We both drop our eyes back to our drinks.
Fun times.
My eyes wander around the room. Jude is here. He's over by the pool tables with Maxwell, Knox and Jason, some of his teammates from the Iowa Paragons football franchise. Every few minutes, they get interrupted for selfies or autographs from eager fans. I would have already lost my shit in their shoes, but the groupies don’t seem to bother them. Jace, in particular, is drinking up the attention, peacocking around the bar with the grin of a champion. Jude keeps checking the time and I know he’s just waiting for the perfect opportunity to make an excuse and go home to his girl.
When I swing my gaze around again, my eyes land on Penny. I feel a tight throb in my gut. The girl is fucking beautiful, vigorously wiggling a martini shaker behind the counter. One of her coworkers comes up to her with a clipboard and they discuss the papers they’re flipping through. Penny grabs a pen and signs a few sheets of paper, before giving the employee instructions.
The worker scampers off and weariness passes through Penny’s features. She pauses for a second to crane her neck from side to side and loosen the knots. But then her smile is right back in place and she’s back on the grind, taking another wave of drink orders.
Watching her makes me smile. The girl is a hustler. I admire the way she’s juggling a dozen things at once. Managing the bar, serving patrons, running her design business, carrying out her motherhood plans. She knows what kind of life she wants and she’s working tirelessly toward it. It's impossible not to admire her spirit, her determination, her fight.
I'm not the only man who notices her. I've seen how many have tried to approach her tonight. She’s turned each of them away with a polite but firm rejection while still managing to come across as sweet and friendly. I don’t know how she does it.
My chest swells and my shoulders square as I watch her turn those men away. Because soon, she and I will share something that none of these thirsty fuckers will ever be able to touch; she'll be carrying my baby. And damn—that makes me feel like a man.
Still, it's killing me that we'll be doing it in a clinic with medical professionals and high-tech gadgets to facilitate the process. I don't want to do it that way. I want to take her delicate body in my arms, kiss her, touch her, fuck her like the beast I am. The way nature intended. But that won't happen. I
