Page 54 of Never Forever

“I’ll be there tomorrow. I promise,” I said. “But…I have news.”

“News? You’ve made a decision?” she asked. There was an ottoman kicked to the side and she set it up and put it under my feet. She pulled the little green velvet chair closer to mine so we could whisper.

I looked around to see if anyone was in earshot. I’d told my sister my secret plans and no one else. I had a brief window between the end of this movie and the start of my next movie – a giant Marvel spin off. I had a juicy part as a bad guy that would, should the movie do well, have a three-movie arc. So, this brief window was the only time I had for the foreseeable future to - drum roll please…

Get pregnant and have a baby.

That was my plan. My real reason for wanting to come back to Calico Cove. The movie was a convenient excuse to re-connect with my family.

So we could do this baby thing together. The four Piedmont women.

I had already come to the conclusion, I didn’t want to be married or in a long-term relationship. All I needed was the sperm of a relatively smart, relatively good-looking man with a spotless health history.

I had one year before preproduction on Silver Shadow. I wanted to get pregnant and have my baby here, surrounded byfamily. All of this I’d planned to happen over the summer, but life got in the way.

“Yes,” I said. “I have picked a winner!”

Annie squealed. God love a supportive sister.

“Tell me all about him!”

“He’s super dreamy.”

“Spill.”

“Well, he’s a molecular chemistry grad Student, cello player, division 3 tennis player.”

“Oh nice. An athlete and an artist?”

“Of course. I need well-rounded sperm.”

“He could be lying, you know?”

I glared at her.

“Sorry. He’s not lying,” she quickly amended.

“That’s right. Also, he has no family history of cancer or heart disease.”

“You did pick a winner, Carrie,” she said.

“And,” I said. “Get this, seventy-eight percent sperm motility.”

“Jack pot.” Annie high-fived me.

“Is this weird?” I asked. “Grocery shopping for a father for my baby?”

The donors had literally come in a PDF file. With numbers. It was the least intimate thing I’d ever been a part of.

“There are weirder things probably. So, when are we doing this?”

“As soon as the movie wraps,” I said.

“Which is….?”

“Hopefully a week.”

“Then what? Are you going to stay out at the hotel? You want to move in with me?”