Page 144 of The Difference Between

Guilt ripples through me even though I’m doing the thing I came here to do that he’s okay with me doing.

I clear my throat. “With one of the donors. I met him on a dating app.”

Silence.

“But it’s not a date. Not a date, date, you know?”

Silence.

“There will be no punched noses or closets.” Because that’s what he said he didn’t want any more of. “Or anything.”

He says nothing.

“I’m only staying long enough to make sure his nose is as advertised and there are no baby kinks.” All of a sudden, I’m thirsty. Like the journey from my mother’s porch to here was through the Sahara Desert and not a rose bush-lined pathway. “He’s a doctor, so . . .” So thirsty. “I won’t be late though. And we’ll be in public. That Italian place off 65, what’s it called?”

He doesn’t answer.

“I can call you after.”

The next stretch of silence involves his jaw clenching and a look of hurt in his eyes so palpable I feel it around every bone like a strand of barbed wire.

Finally, he says, “Don’t worry about it.”

He gestures with the piece of paper in his hands then drops it into my purse.

“Gavin.” I reach for him, but he takes a step back.

After a long look, he stuffs his hands in his pockets and turns away.

“Gavin!” I call to his back. “It’s not a real date!”

He goes into his house, without looking back.

He has no right to be mad. I’m doing exactly what I said I would to have the baby I told him I wanted—that he said we’d figure out. If anyone should be mad, it’s me. I told him what I was doing, and he said okay.

Fuck that.

And him.

And my sisters.

And Mom.

And Sylvia.

I stomp to the Volkswagen and shove the key into the ignition.

“Private equity?” Rhett asks with a chuckle. “Where’s the scythe.”

I smile and tilt my sparkling water toward him. “Why do you think my purse is so big?”

“I had my suspicions.” His smile and gaze linger.

He’s attractive—good teeth, good hair, good skin, good body based on his dating app pictures—and based on how he’s smiling and his easy demeanor, he’s attracted to me.

The server sets a glass of wine in front of him, and he thanks him then lifts his glass to mine. “To new beginnings.”

I smile and clink my glass with his. “New beginnings.” I take a sip. “Tell me about your practice.”