Livia

Chase nearly chokes on his beer.

"Excuse me, a what?"

I see sweat gathering on his forehead. It’s the first time I’ve seen him be anything but calm, cool, and collected, which probably says a lot about how he’s taking my announcement.

To be fair, I did spring this on him suddenly, though I didn’t come up with the idea on a whim. I’ve been looking into artificial insemination and even adoption for several months now. Actually, for more like a year—since my last birthday when I turned twenty-eight and realized how close that was to twenty-nine which is practically thirty and how the hell could I be not even thirty and have my life be complete? Because it didn’t feel complete.

It doesn’t feel complete.

But what else was there that I wanted to accomplish? I had the degree I wanted. I loved my job. I owned my condo. I didn’t want to get married. As Megan put it, what was there left to want?

A child. That’s what.