My assistant Scott appears like a mirage at my door. I stare at him. Do I dare trust him? How badly do I want a child? Can the office gossip keep silent? Maybe we should skip a month. What would happen if we were a few hours late with the needle? Am I willing to risk it?
“Scott,” I begin, very hesitantly. “Scott, I need to tell you something.”
“Here it comes. Wait – let me sit down for this. Okay.” He grips the armrest and I see his knuckles go white. I would have expected him to be gleeful at finding out what I’ve been up to, but instead he appears nervous.
“Actually, I need to ask you a favor. How are you with needles?” What if Scott passes out and I have to call the ambulance with my pants down? Try explaining that away.
“Are you doing drugs?” He arches a perfectly tweezed eyebrow.
“Piss off, Scott. No, I’m not doing drugs. I just need help with a hormone injection. I can’t quite reach.” I gesture toward my derriere.
“Hormone injections are easy. My neighbor down the hall is getting them for gender transformation surgery. Hang on, are you…?” He trails off and looks me up and down.
“I’m not becoming a man. I don’t know how you guys walk around with those–” I gesture to the general area of his crotch “–things. No thank you. Look, this is really personal and extremely private. I need to know I can trust you to keep this a secret.” Scott is nodding furiously. “Seriously, Scott, you are not exactly known for your discretion.”
“It hurts that you think that of me, Abby.” He holds his hand up to his forehead and sighs dramatically.
“Give me a break. You happily tweeted the bra size of the last Ms. F&F.”
“Okay, I’ll give you that one, but come on; she was a double-d–”
“Scott, this is for real. I will kill you if this gets out.”
He nods eagerly.
“Fine. The truth is, I’m–”
“Oh my god, you’re dying. You have cancer and only a short time to live. Oh, the insanity. It’s a cruel, cruel world. So young and no time left.” He whips out a pink handkerchief from his breast pocket and fans himself. I fix him with a sober glare, waiting for him to run out of steam.
“Are you finished?” My serious gaze prompts him to pantomime zipping his lips. With a sigh, I continue, “Scott, I’m not dying. I’m trying to get pregnant.”
“What? You’re not dying?”
“No, I’m fine. I’m – well, not just me – we’re, Jack and I, are a tad … reproductively challenged. But it’s okay, we’ve got ourselves a membership at a fertility clinic.”
“Fertility clinic? Wait, this means you’re going to be a mom. My little Abby is going to be a mom.” He claps his hands together loudly.
“Hush,” I hiss. “I’m not pregnant yet. Can I trust you to keep this between us?”
“Of course, honey. I’m just so glad you aren’t dying. This place would be rather lonely without you.” His somber expression gives way to a glimmer of hope. “Can I be Uncle Scott? Please?”
“Please, Abby, please. I’ll take your secret to my grave.”
I crack a playful grin. “I thought you might actually be Auntie Scott.”
“Auntie Scott; I love it. I can’t believe I get to help make a baby.”
“Whoa, I only need you to give me a needle – not your swimmers.”
He mimes slapping on a pair of latex gloves, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Bend over, boss, I’m going to enjoy this.”
When you’re sex life becomes de rigueur that’s when you know you’re on the right track. The baby making track that is. Abigail Nichols is about to find out that love and marriage doesn’t always lead to the baby carriage aka nursery rhymes lie!
Well maybe not lie, but they definitely stretch the truth. It isn’t always so easy to have a child for some of us and when a woman decides she’s ready, the body may sometimes says, “not so fast, sister.”
I appreciate the diligence that Cumming placed in the details. She has an easy, breezy tone that makes this a quick read. The fictionalized parts of the story lean more to the generic and conventional. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but there is no big moment in the story. It’s a nice, heartwarming HEA that can make you smile as you’re waiting in line for whatever appointment you may have.
About the Author
Jen Cumming had two dreams: to be a mother and a writer. The first was much harder than she’d imagined, but it gave her plenty of material for her second dream. Now she’s realized both and traded drug cocktails and early morning line-ups at the fertility clinic for juice boxes and evening PTA meetings.
Jen’s latest dream is to live in a small village in France and eat croissants. Being allergic to wheat might hamper that dream, so in the meantime she does her best to balance life with two young children and run a business with her husband in Toronto. She loves to spend time at the cottage in the summer, ski in the winter, and travel whenever she can.
Disclosure of Material Connection: I received this book free from the author as part of their promotional tour. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions I have expressed are my own. Additionally, some of the links in the post above are “affiliate links.” This means if you click on the link and purchase the item, I will receive an affiliate commission. Regardless, I only recommend products or services I use personally and/or believe will add value to my readers.I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255: “Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.”