When I reach the lobby, Heath’s already waiting for me, holding a plastic bag.

“Here, I didn’t find much, but this should do,” he says handing it to me.

“What is it?”

“Ham sandwich with extra mayo and provolone cheese,” he announces.

When I open the bag, there’s just one sandwich and a box of apple juice.

“What about you?”

“I ate mine while I was walking back to the hotel,” he says casually before he asks the bellboy to get us a cab. “We can get something heartier after your appointment.”

“Where are you going?” I glare at him as I slide into the cab and he does the same.

“I’m going with you, of course,” he explains. “We need to talk.”

“About what?” I huff and give the cab driver the address of the fertility clinic.

“You can’t just walk away from your life to search for something you already have in Kentbury.”

“Do we have to rehash Saturday’s conversation, Miller?”

“Look, Cassie’s devastated.”

I knew it. Cassie wasn’t going to let it go. She said last night that she understood. Instead of allowing me to talk things through with her, she decided to ask her dad to stop me. I love that kid, but seriously? As sweet as it is to know that this man would do anything for his daughter, I’m fuming. He just can’t let things be, can’t he?

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath. “I upset you more, didn’t I?”

“Heath, I’m sure your intentions are noble, but I’d appreciate it if you stop right now.” I check the time. “This week is crucial to me. Thank you for driving me, I know that without you I might not have made it, but honestly, I’m not in the mood for another intervention.”

He nods and stays quiet during the drive. Once we arrive, he pays the cab and helps me out of the car. The man keeps following me, even when I’m glaring at him.

“You can’t go in with me.”

“Why not?”

“This is a private consultation,” I explain.

“What is it about?”

I ignore him and step out of the elevator. The reception area is right across from us.

“Knightly Harris,” I announce to the receptionist. “I have a three o’clock appointment with Dr. Gonzalez.”

She hands me a clipboard. “If you don’t mind filling out that information. Most insurances don’t cover the procedures, but we’ll be happy to submit a claim on your behalf. Can I have your insurance card and driver’s license?”

I give her what she asks for and take a seat to fill out my medical history. Of course, Heath just can’t let things be.

“How do you know you have fertility issues?” He dares to ask.

“I’m not having this conversation with you, Miller,” I say with a warning voice.

The steel door next to the reception opens, a nurse calls out my name, “Knightly Harris.”

I stand up and follow her. The infuriating man who has decided to make my life miserable walks right behind me.

“After you finish filling out your information, give the clipboard to the receptionist,” the nurse says, stopping right in front of an office.

“Please, take a seat, Dr. Gonzalez will be with you shortly.”

She pulls a plastic cup out of her pocket and hands it to Heath. “If you decide to leave a sample on your way out, there’s a room next to the reception. We have magazines and movies if you need them.”

Heath moves the cup around, staring at it as if it’s a strange, alien object.

“Write your name, her last name and your date of birth before using it,” she emphasizes. “Once you’re done, make sure to close it tightly.”

His mouth agape and widened eyes break me out of my bad mood. I never thought I’d see Heath speechless.

“You can always get paid if you decide to make a donation,” I say grinning.

“Are you having fun at my expense, Harris?”

“I could,” I say, taking a seat. “It’s not too late for you to leave. Things might get more interesting.”

The doctor enters wearing blue scrubs, her brunette hair tied low in a ponytail and her surgical mask hanging from her neck.

“Mrs. Harris, it’s very nice to meet you. I apologize for my attire, but one of my patients just went into labor, and I didn’t have time to change,” she says, shaking my hand and then offering it to Heath. “You must be Mr. Harris. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Don’t worry, thank you for seeing me on such short notice,” I say.

“As my nurse must’ve explained to you, consultations are just casual chats. Though we’d love to help you achieve your dreams, sometimes we’re not the right fit,” she explains and fidgets with her mouse, then looks at us.

She takes her time studying us and asks, “How long have you been trying to conceive?”

“Conceive?” I frown.

“Getting pregnant is different for everyone. For some couples, it can take only a few tries while for others, they have to follow some steps. What kind of birth control have you taken in the past?”

I squint and stop answering the questionnaire they gave me at the entrance. “I haven’t taken anything for the past five years.”

She nods. “And you’ve been trying to get pregnant for the past five years?”

“No, this is new.”

She beams. “I see. Mr. Harris, how old are you and have they checked your sperm count already?”

“I’m not—”

“He’s thirty-four,” I interrupt taking advantage of this little interrogation to make him squirm or leave. “But … things don’t work well with him, if you know what I mean,” I mumble.

Oh, he’s going to pay.

“What are your symptoms?” She’s super professional about this. Damn, I have to make it more uncomfortable for him.

“Are you having trouble getting an erection, or is it keeping it?” she asks, taking out a notebook and grabbing a pen. “How is your sexual desire?”

“I don’t have any. This isn’t—”

“Well, he doesn’t like to talk about his … problem,” I continue.

“I can assure you, we’ve heard everything.” She beams with pride. “We can find the issue and work to fix it.”

“Dr. Gonzalez, no offense but I bet you haven’t encountered a problem like ours,” he states and gives me a gentle squeeze.

“It’s okay to be shy about your sex life. Infertility happens to everyone. But in this clinic, we have a solution for it,” she continues. Nothing Heath tells her is going to stop her goal—getting us a baby. “Once we find the root of your problem, we’ll establish a routine. Maybe you guys are too stressed out about having this baby. It happens. Whatever your problem is, we can solve it.”

“Maybe you’re right,” he says, tossing his mischievous smirk at me. “What kind of routine do you recommend? Sex therapy?”

What is he trying to do?

He sets the cup on the desk. “I know I’m not the problem. I have a daughter, maybe we haven’t tried hard enough.”

She takes my hand and gently says, “have you tried to relax, dear? I think you two need to talk about this and agree on how you’re going to proceed.”

Dr. Gonzalez stands up and goes to her cabinet.

“There’s a lot of myths out there, for example, Mr. Harris do you masturbate?”

“Do you, Heath?” I look at him with interest. “Because you might run out of sperm before I can use it.”

She chuckles. “Don’t be silly. Actually, if you don’t do it, start doing it often. The way your body produces the sperm is based on demand.”

“You can help him,” she says. And I swear I can’t understand how she can keep a straight face when she says, “Masturbation is a healthy activity and when done with a partner. It helps you grow as a couple.”

“Shouldn’t you be taking notes, Lee?” Heath winks at me. “The sooner we start, the faster we can come to a happy ending.”

“How are your drinking habits?” she continues ignoring my annoying friend. “I recommend that you limit your intake to no more than two servings a day.”

“I need you to stop smoking, using steroids, get tested for STDs and don’t wear skinny jeans.” She hands him a couple of booklets.

“Here’s the complete list of recommendations for the two of you. You should see a marriage counselor too. Therapy works wonders when you’re too stressed out about having a kid.”

Dr. Gonzalez looks at me with a straight face and says, “Sex therapy is a great idea.”

“Look at this, honey,” he shows me the illustration of a couple having intercourse. “The Kamasutra, fifteen positions to get pregnant. Hmm. I never thought about this, doggy style. We could do it in the kitchen.”

My cheeks heat up when I think about us having sex in my kitchen. But I stop because he’s just taunting me.

“Heath,” I warn him.

“The Anvil position,” he continues. “I’m glad you do yoga. With your elasticity, we can get very creative.”

“It seems like there are things you two haven’t tried yet,” Dr. Gonzalez continues. “Sex can be fun. It’s not just about having a set schedule.”

“Darling, we’ll make it fun,” Heath promises, taking my hand and kissing my palm. “We don’t need doctors or test tubes to make a baby. Just two willing parties.”

He winks. “I’m willing.”

I’m not sure if he’s making fun of me, but I’m tempted to ask him to do it in the cup so I can have a baby. It’d save me twenty thousand dollars, and I’d know where the kid has come from.

“I’m here to help with whatever you need, but I think it’s important for you two to relax. Remember the love that you have for each other. It’s not just about conceiving but loving each other.”

“We’ll try your techniques,” Heath says as he continues to look at the booklet that she gave us. “Maybe we’ll send you a Christmas card with the picture of Junior and Cassie.”

“That would be lovely,” she says satisfied, thinking that she just solved our problems.

Lady, you can’t even see the tip of the iceberg.

“Give yourself the next four cycles, if you haven’t conceived by then, I recommend you start by visiting your obstetrician—we’re your last resource.”

Heath sighs and fans the booklets that she gave him. “My boys will know how to get the job done, Doctor, but thank you for the information. We can start practicing now.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” I say, lost in thought, wondering how exactly I’m going to ask him to do it in a cup, so I can knock myself up.