Everyone has a best friend. Mine just happens to be Dr. Christian Gallagher— the gorgeous, green-eyed heart surgeon who wants to have a baby with me.Yes, you read that correctly.
When my mother approached me on my thirty-third birthday with a brochure for egg freezing, it was a glaring reminder that my biological clock is ticking toward its expiration date. I’ve always dreamed of being a mom and had a plan — one that was destroyed when I caught my professional hockey player husband in bed with another woman.
Despite my broken heart I still believe in love. I want the happily ever after, but I also want a child desperately and won’t settle in order to make it happen.
That’s why when I decided to take my mother’s advice, Christian came up with his own plan: Let’s have a baby together.
It’s a bad idea. A really, really bad idea. And yet…I can’t stop thinking about how great it could be.
There’s just one condition. Before we have sex (oh, yes, we’re doing this the old fashioned way!) Christian is adamant we go on three dates.
Sounds easy, but it’s not.I thought sex would be the hard part, but the dates are only making me fall for the man I’ve known almost my entire life.
Whoever said sex doesn’t change things never went to bed with their best friend.
*Copyright 2019 Jeannine Colette. All Rights Reserved.
“Meadow,” Christian calls after me.
I stop and swing around. He’s standing outside an exam room, looking like he’s about to go inside.
I walk over to him, and as I approach, he looks down at me with those kind eyes and asks, “You okay?”
“That comment you made before about your eggs shriveling up and dying.”
I place a hand on my forehead as I feel ten kinds of embarrassed. “Oh, yeah. I was just joking.”
“You brought it up the other day, too.”
I shake my head and lower my hand to rest it on my hip. “I think it’s my birthday coming up. You know, getting older sucks.”
A loose strand of hair falls out of my low ponytail and into my eye. He wraps a finger around it and pushes it behind my ear.
“You’ll tell me if something is worrying you, right?”
“Don’t I always?”
“No,” he answers quickly, and I curve my brows in question. “You internalize until it eats you up and you’ve made some crazy, rash decision.”
I adore him, except for his ability to know everything about me. Well, almost everything.
“Name one time,” I challenge him.
“You got married without even telling me you were engaged.”
“That’s pretty much the point of eloping.”
He looks at me from under those thick lashes and tilts his head. I know what he’s thinking. That was a tense time in our friendship. He was across the country—had been for years already—when, suddenly, I called to say I was a married woman. The distance had already put a strain on our friendship. Brock’s inability to understand how close Christian and I were only made it worse.
Christian gives a self-deprecating smile and then pauses meaningfully. “What’s on your mind?”
If you only knew …
“I’m fine. Stop fussing over me. I’m excited to meet Natasha. I didn’t know you were seeing someone.”
“I’m not. We’re just—”
“Fooling around in supply closets. I get it,” I say with a cheeky grin.
He lowers his forehead a touch and speaks as if he’s about to tell me a secret, “I wouldn’t have to sneak away in closets if you gave in to my wit and charm.”
The way he says the words makes my stomach flutter and my body tingle in response. Any other girl would think he was serious. I, on the other hand, know better. He says things like that for my ego, which he thinks is shattered even though my self-confidence is pretty well intact.
“I wasn’t aware it was being offered,” I answer jokingly.
“Then, I’m not doing a good enough job.”
“Go to work, Dr. Gallagher,” I scold and turn him around toward his office where I’m sure he’s way behind schedule.
I walk down the hall toward exam room four and grab the file that’s sitting in the holder on the door. I sneak a glance back to see Christian watching me as I walk away, pretending I’m not walking to the beat of my own biological clock.
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