“I guess I better stock my fridge in preparation,” she replies pragmatically. It doesn’t seem like she dislikes the idea.
All conversation ceases as we focus on eating. I do my best impression of a vacuum cleaner, sucking down five of the six sandwiches while she barely puts away one. When I’m finished, I pat my stomach and expel a satisfied sigh. “Thank you so much. That really hit the spot.”
She waves her hand, dismissing my praise. “That was nothing. Wait until I make you a real meal.”
“When is this happening? How long do I have to wait?”
“How about we see what your schedule looks like in the next couple of weeks,” she suggests, sliding from her stool. She collects both our plates and heads toward the sink.
“That works. Although, I’m going to look forward to that meal more than you realize.” Picking up the platter and my empty beer bottle, I bring them over. She opens the cabinet beneath the sink, pointing to a recycling bin for me to drop the bottle into. “We could plan it for when I have an away game. We’re usually back between eight and nine.”
“Would you be up for a late dinner?”
“Cooked by you?” I question.
“Mmhmm.” She moves to the fridge, extracting a beer for me. She removes the cap before handing it over.
“Fuck yeah. I mean, yes, please.” I wink. “What are you making?”
“It’ll be a surprise. Do you like Indian food?”
“I like all food. Especially when it’s prepared by a beautiful woman.”
She rolls her eyes. “Flattery will get you nowhere with me.”
“I’m beginning to realize that. What does work on you?”
“What do I find irresistible in a man?” she asks.
“Yeah. What is the most important trait you look for?” I’m not sure why I’m asking her this; call it curiosity.
“Let’s go sit on the couch. We might as well be comfortable if we’re going to play twenty questions.” She leads the way through the open floor plan and we sit at opposite ends of the couch. Turning to face me, she sits sideways on the cushion. “There are a few things that a man must have that are important to me. One: He has to have a purpose in life.”
“Wait, what do you mean by purpose? Do you mean he has to be employed or do you mean he should be passionate about something?”
“The former is nice, but I’m actually referring to the latter. I think everyone should be passionate about something. It makes life more fun. For me, it’s my work. I love what I do, and how much my business has grown reflects that. I get a thrill when I negotiate a really great contract for an athlete.” She smiles.
“Your eyes sparkle when you talk about your work,” I say.
“They do?” She’s surprised.
I nod. “Your love for what you do is obvious.”
She clears her throat and shifts her weight like she’s feeling uncomfortable. “That’s nice of you to say.”
“Okay, back to the second thing you look for in a man.” I gesture for her to continue.
“Two: He has to be loyal to me. I want a partner who always has my back, no matter what. Unfortunately, that kind of loyalty is hard to find.”
“You’re not just speaking about being loyal as in being faithful, right?” I ask.
“That’s a given. If he can’t keep his dick in his pants, then forget about being with me. But I’m also speaking of loyalty on a deeper level. I want someone willing to go to war for me—figuratively anyway.”
“I could be wrong, but it sounds like you’re looking for someone who’ll stand by your side in good times and in the tougher times too. Someone you can rely on for anything you may need. Someone who is a true partner. Isn’t that what the core of every marriage should be?”
“Yes, that’s exactly what I want.” Her luminous eyes look awed, as if she didn’t expect me to understand what she meant.
“What about the third?” I prod her to go on.
“Three: He has to want children.”
“That’s it? Does it matter how many?”
“Not as long as I can have at least one,” she replies.
“You really want kids that badly?” I question.
“Yes, I’ve always wanted to be a mother.”
“You better get going then,” I tease, and she presses her lips together.
“Shut up, Flynn.”
“I’m just kidding.”
“You’re not wrong, though. If I got pregnant right now, I’d be thirty-six when I gave birth. I’m running out of time if I want a few children.”
“I guess you can’t really plan to have a baby. You have to see what happens in your future. Maybe once we’re done with our arrangement you’ll meet the perfect guy.”
She shakes her head with conviction. “Who says I need a guy?”
“Well, you kind of do if you plan to get pregnant,” I tell her. “The ole penis in the vagina theory. Some refer to it as the birds and the bees.”
“Not if I’m artificially inseminated.”
It takes a lot to shock me, but she got me. Good too. My mouth falls open. “How does that even work?”
“There are clinics that specialize in that service. Men donate sperm and their personal information is on file. You can choose them for their height, hair color, eye color, or whatever criteria is important to you. You don’t know who they are, though. It’s anonymous.”
“So, you’re seriously considering this as a viable option?”
“Of course I am. It’s probably my only option. I actually made an appointment for sometime in December, but I’ll need to reschedule now.”
“How much does that cost?” I ask.
She scrunches her nose up. “A lot.”
“Don’t sell yourself short. I’m sure you could find a man to give you his sperm for free.” I grin. “I’m just sayin’.”
She laughs. “The sperm isn’t the problem. What guy would want to knowingly get me pregnant and then have nothing to do with his kid? At least if I use
