Two weeks. That was all the time I had left to decide what to do. The past six weeks weren’t without incident, but they were also the best of my fucking life. Coming “home” to her every day after work was something I never thought I’d have.

Most of the time she’d have supper on the go already. I loved walking into her house, the delicious smell of cooking food wafting up to greet me as soon as I opened the door. We hung out at her place most of the time since my apartment freaked her out.

I used the key Vivienne gave me to unlock the front door, wondering what aroma would hit me. Ribs? Roast? I wasn’t picky. I liked it all.

Hmm, nothing. Guess she hadn’t gotten around to starting supper yet. “Hi,” I said, spotting her immediately sitting at her gargantuan kitchen table. She had files upon files opened in front of her. You couldn’t even see the wood underneath.

“Hi, sorry I haven’t started supper yet,” she said, not even lifting her head.

“This is a ton of work. I can cook while you finish,” I said, then stopped dead once I spotted what she was looking at. “That’s not work.” My heart stopped.

“No, I have to go through this tonight. My appointment is tomorrow, and I have to tell the doc who to use.”

Who to use. Who to use. Was it possible for your brain to explode? Because I was pretty sure mine did. “You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

“What’s your problem?” She finally peered up at me. Nice to have her attention.

“Sperm donors? You’re choosing fucking sperm donors?” I barely held a grasp on the tiny thread of patience I had left for this shit.

“Yeah. I have to make up my mind by tomorrow’s appointment.”

Snap. The thread broke.

“I don’t think so, Vivienne. Jesus, what are you even thinking?” My body and hands ferociously moved without my own volition. I seized man after fucking man, splayed out for all the world to see. They needed to be gone.

Papers flew this way and that as I attacked every last asshole on the table, stuffing them into my arms. No way would I allow this shit to happen.

Like some kind of possessed demon, I stormed to the back patio doors, swinging them open. One step, two steps, then I flung the mess of papers over the dirt filled yard.

“Uh, are you okay?” Vivienne asked cautiously, standing in the doorway, probably too scared to come out.

“Am I okay?” I turned my head to shoot her a murderous look.

“Yeah. You seem kind of…”

“Insane? Crazy? Mad as fucking hell?”

“That’s pretty accurate,” she said, nodding slowing.

“Really? I’m not allowed to lose my shit when I come home and see my girlfriend picking out which man she’s going to have a baby with? Do you honestly think I would allow you to put another man’s sperm inside of you?” I spat out with as much distaste as possible.

“Just thinking about that makes me sick. We’ve just spent the best month and a half of my life together, and now you’re going to waltz into to the doctor, pick a number, and get them to fill up your pussy with some asshole’s sperm?” I placed my hands on my head, attempting to hold it together. The vein on the side of my neck throbbed.

“Can you come inside the house now? Maybe my neighbors don’t need to hear this conversation,” she said, sounding pissed. Turning her saucy ass around, she whisked her way back inside.

I stood there for a few minutes, glancing at the mess I’d caused. The men on the papers stared back at me with mocking smiles on their faces. Bastards.

“Sit,” was all she said, curled up into a ball on her couch.

“I freaked out a bit.”

“Oh, you did more than that. Thanks to you, everyone in a three block radius now knows I’m being artificially inseminated.”

“Vivienne, I…” I tried to explain.

“You know I’m doing this. I laid everything out onto the table for you six weeks ago. It’s no surprise.”

“Walking in, seeing you staring at all those men, fuck. I couldn’t deal with that.”

“You need to deal with it.”

I snorted out my nose, narrowing my gaze on her. “No, I don’t.”

“You’re leaving me?”

“I’m not leaving you. You’re going to use my sperm,” I blurted out, realizing that there really was no other option. The entire time, I knew I’d be the father of Vivienne’s baby. “Holy shit. Did I just say that?” I collapsed onto the couch, my knees ready to give out.

Tentatively, Vivienne said, “Yeah, you said it. But did you mean it?”

I frowned at the woman. “Of course, I meant it.”

“You don’t have to do this, you know. It’s a big—”

“I said I was going to help you make a baby. I figured you’d be happy.”

Her body unfolded before she stood up, slinking cautiously over to me. “Are you—”

I grabbed her hand, pulling her down to me. “I love you. I want to be the father of your baby. Will you let me do that?”

We stared into each other’s eyes, unblinking, scared I’d miss something. The most beautiful, glowing smile crossed her face. “Nothing would make me happier.” She dove onto me, kissing my mouth with a flailing madness that made me laugh.

She shoved back from me. “Why are you laughing? You just agreed to make a baby with me?”

“The way you’re reacting is hilarious. Like you want to eat me or something.” I kept chuckling, unable to stop.

“Well, I did want to eat you, but not so much anymore.” She crossed her arms.

“No, don’t be mad. It’s just fucking cute. Come here,” I said, kissing her soft mouth again.

“All right, and you’ve been using condoms?” The doctor looked at me over the top of her reading glasses. Oh shit.

“We…”

“Vivienne bought condoms, yes,” Jason replied, saving my ass from some serious awkwardness. He squeezed my hand.

We had most assuredly not been using condoms. After Jason’s initial reaction when I brought up using a barrier method, he actually said he’d use them if I really wanted him to.

I didn’t. Feeling the smooth, skin-to-skin of us was important to me. If he was all right with it, I wasn’t one to complain.

“Good. Now, Jason, is it?” She lowered her glasses even farther.

“Yes.”

“Jason, you’ll need to abstain from activity for a few days at least before your donation.”

“Activity? I can’t work?” he asked. It hit my funny bone so hard, I started giggling. It was one of those giggles you shouldn’t submit to because of the inappropriate timing of laughing in the office of someone who not only went to school for a couple of decades but looked the way she did.

Dr. Kavacoli was hot. Smokin’ hot. Tall, dark, and gorgeous. If I weren’t so intimidated, I’d ask her how she got her black hair so silky.

Anyway, trying my best to hold in my laughter didn’t work. It escaped in a burst of embarrassment. Both of them looked to me as my cheeks reddened.

“From all sexual activity,” Dr. K. specified.

“Oh, gotcha,” he said, then turned to me, saying in a hushed voice, “Are you going to be okay?”

All I could do was nod.

“Fine, I think that covers things on my end. Any questions?”

Jason cleared his throat. “What are the chances of this working? With Vivienne’s issues, I mean.”

Dr. K. pursed her lips together, removing her glasses in one dramatic movement. “It’s not great, Jason. Vivienne has chosen this as a first line of treatment. My recommendation was to begin IVF immediately. Unfortunately, I’ve seen very little success with insemination on women with the same condition.” She pushed away from her desk, standing up with all the grace of a runway model. “That said, you just never know. We can’t lose hope.”