Stud Muffin (Donner Bakery #2) - Jiffy Kate Page 0,92

baker’s hours.

I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling for what feels like forever, but when I turn back to the clock, it’s only been ten minutes. Frustrated with myself, I toss the blankets off and throw my legs over the edge of the bed, toeing into my slippers.

It’s already starting to feel cooler in the mornings and evenings. You can tell fall is upon us and that makes me happy. It’s my favorite time of year.

Shuffling over to the coffee pot, I think about how much I love living here. I’m sure for some people, it might feel claustrophobic and they would probably be dreaming about more space, but this is perfect for me right now.

As the coffee permeates the air, I inhale and let it coat my lungs.

That’s what I’m talking about. There’s nothing like your first hit of caffeine in the morning. Something about the smell of coffee soothes my soul and sets me up for a productive day. Without it, I’m lost and grumpy.

Sipping my first cup, I lean against the brick wall and peer out the window to the street below. From here, I can see that there are customers arriving at the bakery. I start to feel bad about not being there, and then quickly shut that shit down.

Besides, I made extra muffins yesterday for today, so it’s not like they’re going without.

With so much time to spare, I glance around my apartment and make a mental list of things I could check off my to-do list.

There’s a box of clothes I need to either donate or find space for under my bed. I also have a basket of clothes I washed at the laundromat earlier this week that needs put away. Plus, there’s still one small box of random papers I need to go through.

Most of the junk can probably be thrown away, but I need to make sure there isn’t anything in there that’s important. My luck, if I just trashed the whole box, I’d accidentally throw away a winning lotto ticket or my birth certificate.

Although, I’d have to buy a lotto ticket first.

And my birth certificate is safely tucked away in a fireproof box.

But I can’t throw it away without easing my mind first, so I set my half-drank cup of coffee on the island and lean down to grab all the papers out of the box.

One pile for trash.

One pile for keep.

The first few items are old bills, mostly utility bills, from the old house.

Trash.

A credit card statement from one of Asher’s cards.

Trash.

A letter from Asher’s Aunt Patricia for his birthday last year.

Trash.

I start to move through the stack faster, only adding one receipt that I’ll need for taxes to the keep pile, until a folded piece of paper catches my eye.

Fertility Institute of Knoxville

Patient Information: Asher J. Williams

Scanning the paper, I’m confused at what I’m looking at. Asher was never a patient at the fertility clinic. But I’ve never seen this paper before. As I skim the information, it’s like I’m reading gibberish, until I come to one line.

Semen Test

Flipping the page, I still can’t make out what any of the numbers mean, but at the bottom of the third page, there’s a section titled: Conclusion.

Again, most of it is Greek to me, but when I come across one line in particular, I pause. My heart starts beating a little harder and a little faster.

A result of 0 percent NF usually means in vitro fertilization (IVF) may be necessary for conception.

Flipping back to the first page, I scan it looking to see what it says for NF… NF… NF…

2.

Asher’s result was 2 percent NF.

What does that mean?

He’s what? Infertile? Has bad swimmers?

Going back to the conclusion portion, I read over it quickly one more time. IVF may be necessary for conception. Meaning, we might have never conceived again on our own? Which must mean that the one time we did, it was a miracle.

My heart squeezes, just like it does every time when I think about the baby I lost. I wasn’t pregnant long, but it was long enough for me to get attached to the idea. I loved that baby for eight weeks and wanted it more than anything in the entire world.

But that also means that if he got Mindy pregnant, that’s some freak of nature shit.

Lightning striking twice?

My wheels start turning and I spend the rest of the day doing my least favorite thing—thinking about Asher Williams.

Between the sperm analysis and him showing up at the