Sarah Mayberry - The Best Laid Plans

“Well. I guess that makes it all okay,” she said.

She escaped to the sanctuary of her car. Except it wasn’t really a sanctuary, since Jacob remained where he was, watching her, an expression on his face that was an equal mix of guilt and defensiveness. Alex concentrated on starting the engine so she could get the hell out of here.

She pulled over the moment she was around the corner and out of sight. She stared out the windshield, her hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly that her knuckles ached.

Jacob was a father. He had a beautiful baby boy. With someone else. A woman named Mia, who had “forgotten” to take a pill or two and forced Jacob into a position he had adamantly, passionately, avowedly claimed he wanted to avoid for the entire duration of his relationship with Alex.

He’d named his child Theodore, after his paternal grandfather. He was even on child-care duty, pushing one of the contraptions he’d once dubbed a “blight on civilization” because of the way they choked supermarket aisles and cafés.

She could hear her own breathing, fast and harsh as though she’d just run a race. She told herself that the past was the past and that what Jacob had done once they’d split was nothing to do with her. But not for a minute did she believe it.

The thing was—the thing that stung so bloody bitterly—was that he’d always been so certain about what he wanted. He’d informed her six months into their relationship that he wasn’t interested in having children. By then she’d loved him so much, wanted to be a part of his life so badly, she’d convinced herself that he would change with time. Lots of men did, after all, and they’d both been only thirty. She’d told herself that once he saw his friends have kids, he’d understand the joy and challenges that children could bring. The love and hope and energy. All she’d have to do was wait him out.

And she had. She’d concentrated on achieving partnership at Wallingsworth & Kent and back-burnered her baby dreams until the issue had become a wedge between them.

And now Jacob was a father, and she was single and thirty-eight and still looking for the man she’d left Jacob to find. A man she loved who loved her and wanted to have the family that had always formed the cornerstone of her hopes and dreams.

For the second time that morning her hands curled into fists and she pounded them once, twice, three times against her steering wheel.

An electronic beep drew her attention back to the moment. She blinked, looking around to identify the source of the sound. Her gaze fell on her bag and her brain clicked into gear. Her phone. That’s what the sound was. She pulled it from her handbag and touched the screen. It was her legal secretary, Franny, letting Alexandra know her first client had arrived and was waiting in reception.

Alex laughed.

A client. Right. She had a meeting scheduled. Hell, she had a whole day scheduled. And here she was, thinking that the world had contracted to only her and the sick, angry feeling in the pit of her stomach.

She took a deep breath, then texted a quick reassurance that she was five minutes away.

Seeing Jacob pushing a stroller had dredged up a lot of the old feelings she thought she’d put to rest. But she didn’t have time to sit in her car and gnash her teeth. People were relying on her.

She continued to talk herself down as she drove to the office.

She might feel justifiably angry and cheated by the way things had turned out, but it wasn’t as though she was out of options. At thirty-eight, she had at least five good childbearing years ahead of her—Madonna had had her second child at forty-two, after all, and Geena Davis had had twins at forty-seven. Alex was fit and healthy and active. There was plenty of time for her to find Mr. Right and have the family she’d always wanted.

Plenty of time.

Ignoring the flutter of panic behind her breastbone, Alex reeled in her feelings and focused on the day ahead.

Plenty of time.

EIGHT HOURS LATER, Alex waited on the examination table as her doctor washed her hands after Alex’s annual physical. As it had all day, her mind circled back to the encounter with Jacob. She made it a policy not to brood. It was a huge waste of energy, and it never changed anything. She had better things to do with her time and emotion. Still, she couldn’t erase the image of Jacob and little Teddy. To be so close to everything she wanted and yet be so far removed.

Dr. Ramsay turned back from washing her hands. “Okay, we’ll check your abdomen, then we’re done. Hands by your sides, please. And a nice relaxed belly.”

“Sure you don’t want me to beg or fetch?” Alex asked.

“As if you’d listen to me anyway.” Dr. Ramsay smiled, the lines around her eyes deepening.

She’d been Alex’s doctor for ten years now and she always managed to fit Alex in, no matter how crazy her work schedule.

Dr. Ramsay’s expression grew distant as she pressed down on Alex’s lower belly.

“Let me know if you feel any pain or discomfort.”

“Okay.”

“How’s that?” Dr. Ramsay asked, pressing near where Alex imagined her ovaries were located.

“All good.”

“And here?”

Over her bladder this time.

“Fine.”

A few more pokes, then her doctor was done.

“You can get dressed now. So unless there’s anything else you were worried about, we’re finished.”

Alexandra sat up, swinging her legs over the side of the table.

“Nothing major. I have noticed my periods have been getting heavier over the past few months. More cramping, that sort of thing.”

“Unfortunately, that’s something that happens for a lot of women as they age. You’re, what, thirty-nine this year?”

“That’s right.”

“We’ll keep an eye on it and if it becomes a problem we can look at your options. But given the average age of menopause is fifty-one, it might be an issue that will simply resolve itself.”

Alex laughed nervously. “Menopause? I’m not even forty yet.”

Dr. Ramsay shrugged. “But you are on the tail end of your fertility, and quite a few women go into menopause in their forties.”

“But … I haven’t had children yet.”

Dr. Ramsay looked startled. “Oh. I didn’t realize that was something you wanted. I always assumed you were a career woman.”

“No. I mean, I am. I love my career. But I want a family, too.”

There was concern in Dr. Ramsay’s eyes now. “I see. Well, you probably don’t need me to tell you that the clock is ticking.”

“I’ve still got a few years up my sleeve yet, right?” Alex asked.

She hesitated a beat before speaking again. “Why don’t you get dressed and we can discuss this further?”

The curtain hissed shut between them. Alex tried to push beyond the growing sense of dread as she reached for her clothes. It took her two attempts to button her skirt.

Dr. Ramsay was seated at her desk when Alex opened the curtain.

“Grab a seat,” the doctor said, patting the chair she’d pulled up alongside her desk.

Alex sat and folded her hands into her lap. “Why do I feel as though I’ve been called to the principal’s office?”

Dr. Ramsay drew a diagonal line on the paper in front of her, sloping from the top left corner down to the right. Then she jotted some figures along the horizontal and vertical axes of her impromptu graph.

“Here’s a crash course in female fertility,” she said when she’d finished her sketch. “When it comes to having babies, the quality of the egg is what’s important. The current understanding is that fertility as well as egg quality hit their peak at around twenty-seven. From then onward, it’s a steady decline. After thirty-five—” Dr. Ramsay tapped the appropriate point on her downward-sloping graph “—fertility drops off dramatically. Statistically, the likelihood of a woman in her early forties having a successful pregnancy with her own ovum is only ten percent.”