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I’ll need one after this conversation.
“Perfect,” she says, sounding much more vibrant than at the start of the call. I have Gabriel to thank for that.
“Okay, well, I better go. Keep sending me pictures and let me know when you want to video call,” I say.
“We will. We love you, Leah. Say goodbye to Gabriel from us.”
“I love you too,” I say, my throat tight. “I will. Bye.”
I disconnect the call and take the glass of wine Gabriel is holding.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. It’s the same wine we had the other night,” he replies, misunderstanding.
“No, I mean, thank you for helping to put my parents’ mind at rest.”
Gabriel sits down on the sofa opposite.
“They’re halfway across the world. I get you not wanting to worry them. I’d be the same with my mum.” He surprises me by saying.
“Well, thank you anyway.”
He nods before placing his glass down and getting up. He leaves the room, returning with a large brown box.
“This was downstairs waiting for you,” he says, handing it over.
I stare at the box, before realisation dawns on its contents. I ordered artificial insemination kits online. They promised discrete delivery, and they haven’t failed.
“It’s the insemination kits,” I say, heat emanating from my cheeks.
“Great,” Gabriel says. “Let me know when you need me.”
I take a large swallow of wine, praying not to choke and spit it all over the white rug and sofa. My lower body contracts at the thought of what needing me means.
I drop my gaze, unable to look at Gabriel, instead letting out what sounds little more than a squeak.
“Is there a timeline?” Gabriel asks, his voice calm.
“Timeline?” I say, my voice still higher than it should be.
“When you’ll need my sperm?” Gabriel says as if we’re talking about the weather. “It’s just that I read I’d be better off abstaining for several days before giving a sample.”
Ground swallow me up.
We’re discussing him relieving himself. My clothes instantly feel hot and uncomfortable. The thought of Gabriel in the shower or in his bed, dick in hand. What does he think about? Oh hell, my mind needs to stop.
I cough, trying to clear my throat and adopt the same matter-of-fact tone. “I’ve stopped taking the pill. My period is due in a couple of days. I’m tracking my temperature and using an ovulation app and kits.”
We are doing this together, after all.
“Let me know, and I’ll do what is needed.”
Unsure what else to say, I get up, carrying my wine towards the kitchen area, needing to put some space between us. If we do this, I’ll be giving up my evening glass of wine. That thought does strange things to my insides.
“Are you ready for dinner?” I ask.
I stare at the thermometer. It’s happening. My temperature has increased. The ovulation kit is saying it’s time. My heart is pounding in my chest, and my insides feel like they’re vibrating. I stare at the bathroom door. What am I going to do if he changes his mind?
