Prodigal Son (21 page)

“No, there isn’t.”

A line of water trickled down the side of his face and she passed him the towel. She couldn’t help noticing that he looked as good wet as he did dry. She didn’t need a mirror to tell her she looked like a drowned rat.

“Maybe you can’t understand this because you’re a man, but this is something I’ve wanted since I was a little girl,” she said. “To be a mother. To love unconditionally. To watch a new person find their way in the world. Not very revolutionary or daring by today’s standards, but it’s what I want. And I think I’d be a decent mother.”

Ethan loosened the knot on his tie and unbuttoned his top shirt button. “I’m not questioning your ability to be a mother, Alex. I think you’d make a great mom. But you spoke to your doctor last night and today I find you printing off information on sperm donors. It’s a pretty big leap, you’ve got to admit.”

“I’m researching, not placing an order.”

“You’re panicking. You ran into your ex and you’re freaking out.”

She seriously considered kicking him in the shin. Wasn’t he listening to her? Hadn’t he heard a thing she’d said?

“I’m facing facts. Time is running out for me. And yes, in a perfect world I would want my child to know his father. But this is what’s on the table and I’m not too proud or precious to take it.”

There was a rap on her office door before it opened and Fran entered.

“I had trouble finding your car. Thank God for these beepy door-open things,” she said.

She stopped in her tracks when she saw Ethan, glancing between the two of them.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“You didn’t. Ethan was leaving.” Alex gave him a meaningful look.

“I see you got caught in the rain, as well,” Fran said, running a disapproving eye over Ethan’s wet suit. “Do you want me to try to do something with that jacket?”

“Thanks, but I’m sure it will dry out okay.”

“Well, don’t let us keep you,” Alex said pointedly. “Wouldn’t want you to catch a chill or anything.”

Ethan gave her a dry look. “I’ll see you later, Alex.” He managed to make it sound like both a threat and a promise as he exited.

Fran closed the door after him. “I hope I didn’t walk into the middle of something.”

As fishing expeditions went, it was far from subtle.

“You didn’t. We were discussing something that came up over lunch.”

“I see.”

Alex could see the older woman didn’t believe her. Great. That was all she needed—her assistant thinking there was something going on between her and Ethan, the office sex god. That would get the jungle drums pounding.

“Pity he wouldn’t let me take care of his jacket. I was kind of hoping I could convince him to whip his shirt off in front of us,” Fran said.

Despite everything, Alex laughed. Couldn’t help herself. For a woman in her late fifties, Fran sometimes came out with the most outrageous things. “Careful, Fran, or you’ll be up on a sexual-harassment charge.”

“It would almost be worth it. I bet he’s got an amazing chest. Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it. And those thighs… What am I saying? You play racquetball with him. You must have seen him in all his glory.”

Fran was looking at her expectantly and Alex concentrated on taking her clean shirt off the hanger.

“I really haven’t noticed, to be honest,” she lied.

“Then you need your head read and your eyes tested. A gorgeous man like him—I tell you, if I was a few years younger, I’d be more than happy for him to park his slippers under my bed.”

“I think he’s pretty busy parking his slippers around town already.”

Fran sighed. “Well, who can blame him? At least he’s spreading the joy.” On that outrageous note she headed for the door. “Next appointment’s in ten,” she called over her shoulder before she disappeared.

“Thanks.”

Alex tucked her shirt in and pulled out her compact to check her hair. She had no idea what to do about the fact that Ethan was privy to her most private plans. It had been bad to lose it in front of him last night, but for him to know her pregnancy plot…

She stilled when she recognized what she saw in her reflection: shame.

There had been many occasions in her life when she’d felt the sting of shame. When one of the kids at her high school had learned about her mother’s brain damage and she’d arrived at school one morning to find everyone whispering and staring at her. When she’d had to wait for hours in the waiting room at social services, feeling the pitying eyes watching her and wondering. When she’d found herself rubbing elbows with some of Melbourne’s most privileged sons and daughters at Melbourne Law School, her well-thumbed secondhand textbooks and thrift-shop clothes marking her as an outsider as obviously as if she’d been carrying a flare.

It was only with the hindsight of age and experience that she’d finally understood that those moments had not been cause for shame. Her mother had suffered a terrible injury, and as a consequence her whole life had changed. They had been poor, and they had struggled. There was no shame in any of those circumstances.

Alex straightened her shoulders. There was no shame in what she was doing now, either. She was single. She wanted a child. She wasn’t breaking any laws or hurting anyone or acting immorally.

She made a promise to herself on the spot: from now on, she wasn’t going to apologize or explain what she wanted to anyone. And she wasn’t going to waste precious energy worrying about what Ethan thought or didn’t think. If he was her friend…well, he would support her. And if he wasn’t then she was well shot of him.

Either way, it wasn’t going to stop her from pursuing her goal.

* * *

Ethan went home to an empty apartment. No surprises there, that was the way he liked it. He showered and changed into jeans and a sweater, then wandered aimlessly from room to room. He picked up the magazine he’d been reading, then put it down. Flicked on the TV, only to turn it off again.

For the second night in a row, Alex Knight was in his thoughts.

No two ways about it, he’d been an ass today, blundering into her business when he wasn’t welcome. But it wasn’t his own ham-fisted behavior that kept him moving restlessly. What kept rising to the surface of his mind was the memory of the unadulterated, unashamed yearning he’d heard in Alex’s voice when she’d talked about wanting a child.

He understood what it was like to have life pull the rug out from beneath you and lay waste to all the plans you’d made. When he’d married Cassie, he’d had a vision in his head of how their life was going to be: the two of them working hard to complete their respective degrees, the house they would buy, the amount of time they’d wait to get their careers established before starting a family, the partnership he’d earn, the schools the kids would go to…

He’d been so certain about all of it, so confident it was his for the taking.

He crossed to the window and stared down at the cars moving along St. Kilda Road.

It had been five years since his divorce, five years since he’d understood that his plans for his life differed wildly from reality. He’d long since resigned himself to the fact that certain things were never going to happen for him.

Alex, however, wasn’t even close to being content with the hand she’d been dealt and a part of him admired her for her refusal to simply accept that she’d missed out. He might not think her solution was the greatest, but she wasn’t prepared to give up on her dream, and she was going to go to the mat fighting for it.

Hard not to be impressed by that kind of determination. But he’d always found her impressive, hadn’t he? From his first days with the firm he’d noticed her—those direct, clear brown eyes, that mobile mouth, all that attitude and energy.

Heartily sick of his own circling thoughts, Ethan went into the kitchen and concentrated on dinner. Half an hour later he had the tagine steaming on the stove and the smell of Moroccan spices filled the room.

He opened a bottle of wine, steamed some couscous and sat down to chicken with green olives and almonds for one. Then he found a good documentary and poured himself another glass of wine. By eleven he was over TV and over himself and he went to bed.

He woke with a start several hours later, his heart racing, his body clammy with sweat. It took him a moment to orient himself to his bedroom, to understand why Cassie wasn’t in the bed beside him and why he could hear the faint sound of traffic passing by outside instead of the hushed quiet of a suburban street.

He glanced at the alarm clock. Three in the morning. Great.

He rolled out of bed and walked naked to the bathroom. He sluiced water onto his face, then glanced at his shadowy reflection in the bathroom mirror. In the dim light, all he could see was the outline of his features and the glint of his eyes. He grabbed his robe and shrugged it on before making his way to the kitchen.

He couldn’t recall what he’d been dreaming about before he woke. All he could conjure were vague shadows and a pervading sense of loss. Better than a teeth-falling-out or going-to-work-naked dream, but not by much.

He poured himself a couple of inches of cognac then took his drink to the living room. One of the advantages of living so close to the city was that there was always a sense of activity—life—happening nearby, no matter the time, day or night.

He drew up a chair near the window. If it was summer, he’d go out on the balcony, but it would be bitterly cold tonight so he settled for resting his forehead against the cool glass and watching the bright lights of the city.

He thought about the night Tim was born, how he’d felt when his brother had passed his brand-new son into Ethan’s arms. Ethan had been moved at Jamie’s birth, had even felt a little ambushed by the tug of connection and protection he’d felt toward his brother’s child. But with Tim, it had been different. Cassie had walked out on him by then, and he’d looked into Tim’s unblinking, bewildered, unfocused blue eyes and understood absolutely that this would be as close as he’d ever come to being a parent. It had been a watershed moment. A moment of resignation and acceptance and grief.

But maybe he wasn’t as resigned as he’d thought he was. Maybe he wasn’t quite ready to abandon the dream of being a father. Maybe, like Alex, he wasn’t prepared to walk away without a fight.

He felt as though he was standing on the edge of a precipice, teetering on the brink of…something. A mistake? An opportunity? A second chance?

He lost track of how much time had passed. Slowly the sky lightened and brightened. Birds started to appear, swooping in and out of the treetops in the Alexandra Gardens opposite his apartment. He stood and stretched out his tight shoulders and back. Then he went into the bedroom and dressed.

He only had to wait for ten minutes before his brother emerged from his house and started doing his pre-run stretches on the front lawn. Derek glanced over his shoulder at the sound of the car door closing and stilled for a split second when he saw who it was. Then he straightened and crossed the road to join Ethan.

“What’s going on?” he asked. His breath was visible in the cold morning air.

“Relax. It’s not an emergency. I wanted to run something by you.”

Derek scanned his face then obviously decided to take Ethan at his word. “Okay. Can you do it while we run?”

“If you think you can keep up.”

Derek smiled. “Try me.”

They ran in silence for a few minutes, neither of them pushing the other. Finally Derek stopped, forcing Ethan to stop, too.

“You gonna spill or what? The suspense is killing me.”

Ethan eyed his brother. Then he stared down at the toes of his sneakers. After a long beat he met his brother’s eyes again.

“First up, I want you to understand something. I know we joke about it a lot and I let you nag me, but I’m never going to get married again. Period.”

Derek frowned and Ethan could see he was about to launch into the same-old “you don’t know what might happen in the future, don’t close yourself off to possibility” speech.

“This isn’t a stage I’m going through, it’s not something that’s going to change, and I need you to accept that. Okay?”

Derek’s focus shifted down the road, his hands on his hips. Then he shrugged and looked at Ethan. “It’s your life.”

“Yeah, it is. Which brings me to my next question.” He took a deep breath. He knew his brother was going to have strong feelings about what he was about to suggest, but he needed a sounding board before he made any irrevocable decisions or commitments.

“I’m thinking of offering to become a sperm donor for a friend,” he said.

Derek opened his mouth. Then he closed it again without saying anything.

Fair enough. Ethan was aware that he was hitting his brother with this out of the blue.

“She’s a friend. She’s worried she’s running out of time and she hasn’t met anyone. She doesn’t want to miss out. She’s considering using a bank. And I’m thinking that I could step up instead. Offer to be the father. Have a kid.”

“Jesus. I don’t even know what to say,” Derek said.

“Lots of people do it.”

“Yeah. Gay people. Infertile people. Desperate women. You’re forty-two, Ethan. Kay could name half a dozen of her friends who would lie down right now in the middle of the street and make a baby with you.”

“I covered that. I’m not getting married again.”

“Then don’t. Live with someone, whatever. But don’t become a parent by proxy.”

“It wouldn’t be by proxy. I mean, the conception would be, obviously. But I’d want to be a part of the kid’s life. We’d raise him or her together, like any divorced couple. A custody agreement, child-support payments.”

“You’re really serious, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, I am. I’ve always wanted kids. After everything with Cassie I thought I’d put it behind me. But now this opportunity has come up and maybe I don’t have to miss out. Maybe there are other ways to do this.”

Derek blew out his breath and shook his head. “Who is this woman, anyway? How close a friend is she?”

“I work with her. I respect her. She’s smart, funny, attractive. I think she’d be a great mother and we could parent together really well.”