six layers of shortcake and cream, watching as the white-gloved staff set down more desserts. After two days of a juice cleanse, we’d thrown caution to the wind and proclaimed ourselves deserving of a drinks-and-desserts date. Two bottles of champagne in, we were laughing through a memory of a promiscuous grandmother I’d gotten stuck next to on an eleven-hour flight to London. Running out of options, I started screaming that I saw a ghost sitting in her lap. The flustered first-class flight attendants had assured me that there was no ghost, but I’d stuck to my guns until they moved me to a different seat.
He lifted his glass to me. “Here’s to being blacklisted from American Airlines.”
“Well worth it.” I tapped mine against his. “Plus, it prompted the jet purchase.” I grinned at him. “Which may have been my evil plan the entire time.”
He smiled. “I love you so much.”
I leaned over the table and stole a kiss.
We were watching the bananas Foster presentation when he dropped the bomb. “I’ve been thinking, and I’m ready to think outside the box with starting a family.”
It was such an unexpected statement that I choked, a chunk of strawberry lodged in my throat. I took a long sip of water and managed, my stomach coiling in protest against whatever he was about to say. I couldn’t do a surrogate. I couldn’t. Not yet.
“I’m willing to consider adoption.”
The contraction in my stomach eased, and I let out a shuddering breath, switching to champagne as I processed the information. “Are you sure?” I studied him. “You’ve always been against—”
“I’ve been stubborn. You know, male lineage and pride. But I want a family, and let’s face it, I’m getting old.” He grimaced.
“You’re not old.” I reached for his hand, pulling it across the table, and tried to decide if I was happy or hurt by the realization that he was giving up on my ovaries.
He smiled at me. “I want to see you as a mom. And Neena said that the adoption process can be as quick as a few months.”
Any percolating enthusiasm immediately withered on the vine. “What does Neena have to do with anything?”
“Well, you know—with Matt, they can’t have children. They’ve looked into adoption in the past. She’s the one who brought it up and pushed me to consider it.”
“So you two discussed my infertility again?” I pushed the plate away, nauseated by the thought. She’d thrown away her baby. Kept it from reaching a family who might want to adopt. And yet he was discussing it with her. Getting advice from her.
“No, it wasn’t—” He stopped. “Please, I don’t want to ruin our evening. I thought you’d be happy.”
“I find it interesting that she and Matt looked into adoption, considering that she had an abortion eight years ago.” I clenched my jaw, immediately upset with myself for showing the trump card I should have held on to longer. But I couldn’t keep the words inside, not when they had clawed up my throat and out of my mouth. She had killed her baby—she didn’t have the right to adopt another.
“What?” He flinched, and maybe it hadn’t been wasted after all. “Where did you hear that?”
“It’s true. I have proof of it.” I crossed my arms and rested them on the white linen surface. “So, if Matt’s shooting blanks, then who do you think the father was?” I raised one brow and waited for a response.
Beside his spoon, his phone lit with a notification. He glanced at the screen, and it was all I could do to keep from reaching over to see if it was her. “I’m not going to ask why you’re digging into Neena.” His gaze flicked back to me. “But I just told you I was open to adoption, something you’ve pushed for for years, and you’re turning this conversation into a fight about her.”
“I want you to fire her.” I straightened in the seat, surprised a little by my own suggestion, one I’d fantasized over for weeks but had never intended on broaching. “She isn’t healthy for our marriage.”
“I can’t fire her,” he argued back. “We’re within weeks of FDA approval. We’re getting bombarded with requests and offerings—I need to have the team cohesive. I can’t rip Neena away from them now.”
“She cheated on Matt. Why in the hell would I want her anywhere near you?” I lowered my voice, aware of the close proximity of the waiter, our bananas Foster almost complete. “Don’t put the company before