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Later that month, the phone calls start rolling in. At work, I have to turn off my phone to keep from annoying my co-worker at the desk next to mine. At the end of the day, there are several messages from Mosaic. I don’t want to listen to any of them. I want to forget about that entire part of my life. But later, when I’m at home alone, my curiosity gets the best of me. I need to know what she has to say.
The messages don’t say anything other than “please call our offices.”
That’s kind of scary on its own. What does she want? Has she somehow figured out that I learned who my partner was? Did I ask him too many questions? Did Megan tell Mosaic that I was actually attracted to him? I think this even though I know she would never do something like that. She’s my friend. I’m being paranoid.
My phone rings while I’m contemplating all of this and nearly scares me to death. I fumble, practically dropping it. Mosaic’s number comes up on my screen. I try to control my breathing as I answer the call.
“Hello, Mosaic,” I say.
Her voice is that of anticipation when she speaks. She asks if the pregnancy took. She doesn’t seem suspicious one bit. Perhaps she doesn’t know after all.
I assure her that there is no pregnancy news. I haven’t tested and my period is due soon. So we’ll see. I’m just very busy at work and haven’t had time to check in with her. It sounds like an excuse, but Mosaic doesn’t mention that. But she does make a comment that gives me pause. She says—more as an off-handed comment than something that is supposed to carry much meaning—that my baby-making partner has become somewhat obsessive as of late. He constantly calls her and wants to know if we’re confirmed for future appointments.
My chest aches and tears prick my eyes. I wasn’t expecting that. I figured once I moved on, Chaucer would move onto the next woman looking to get pregnant. Knowing that he wants to be with me again makes this so much harder.
I don’t want to talk about this anymore. I give Mosaic an excuse about my phone battery about to die and that I will call her later. Then I hang up with no intentions of ever calling again. I’m done with the baby-making club. As much as it hurts, I have to be done with Chaucer. There has to be another way.
7
At work the next day, I’m sitting at my desk, looking at baby pictures again to try and make myself feel better when Megan passes by.
She sighs loudly to let me know she’s there. I look up at her. She already saw the pictures I was looking at, so there’s no sense in trying to hide them.
“Did the pregnancy not take?” she says.
She thinks that’s why I’m sad, but it’s not. I’ll let her think that because it’s too difficult to explain the real reason. I don’t want to give her the details and let her know that the man I’d been partnered with was a criminal—and worst of all, that I still have feelings for him despite all that I know of his past. Those kinds of details might make her question her own baby maker. Right now she’s happily married with a child on the way. I’m not going to take that from her.
“No, it didn’t. I got my period.”
“I’m sorry, but it will happen next time. Mosaic won’t give up until it takes. Maybe she can find you another guy with stronger swimmers.”
I cringe. I don’t want another guy. I want Chaucer. I can’t even imagine going into one of those rooms and trying to make a baby with someone else. All I would do is think about him the entire time and wish it were him in my bed instead. I can’t do that. If I’m going to make a baby, it needs to be with someone I love and want to spend my life with. Joining the club was a mistake.
“You need to get out,” Megan says. She claps her hands and gets all excited. “There’s a new bar on the edge of town with live music. We should go tonight.”
I raise my eyebrows. “You want to go to a bar?”
She rolls her eyes and looks down at her swollen belly. “Obviously not to drink. But there’s a band there that I like, and Nathan and I have been saying we need a night on the town before this baby comes and ruins our social life. It will be fun.”
Getting out and getting my mind off of Chaucer for a change really does sound fun. “Okay. Let’s do it.”
She squeals with excitement. “Wear something sexy—I’m talking tight and practically see-through—maybe we can get you laid and pregnant without the help of the club.”
