And so, as I lift the burger, I give Nicole my best Salt-N-Pepa imitation, singing, “Let’s talk about cupcakes, baby.”
“I thought you’d never ask.” She holds up her fork to punctuate her statement. “Turns out I’ve become an expert in sperm. Or cupcakes, as some say,” she says with a smile. I wink back. “And the reality is this—there are probably many amazing donors with wonderful traits. But no matter how much testing and interviewing and screening they do, I’d still be getting a sample from a complete stranger. And on top of that, the more I think about it, the more I’d like to know who the”—she pauses as if she’s rerouting words—“the donor is for my baby.”
As I bite into the burger, I note that she didn’t say father. There’s deliberateness to her word choice, and I suppose that’s understandable. I love Simone in a way that makes my heart feel as if it’s squeezing in my chest, but I also love that she’s my brother’s kid. Not mine. I’m not ready to have one of my own.
“That makes a lot of sense. You want a better idea of what you’re getting into. You want to take some of the guessing out of the equation,” I say, as I pick off the onions since I forgot to ask the waitress to hold them.
“Yes. I do,” Nicole says, taking a drink of her water. “And, please forgive me for being so clinical, but you really have everything I’d want in a donor.”
A burst of pride spreads through me. “Yeah? Tell me what that is. Besides a distaste for onions and an astonishingly good backhand at Ping-Pong.”
Her nose crinkles slightly as she smiles, drawing my attention to the small spray of freckles there, like a little constellation. “Those are absolutely at the top of my list,” she says, then she picks up her fork and takes a bite of her salad.
I eye her bowl. “Nicole. You miss the meat, don’t you?”
She laughs loudly. “Oh yeah, I do miss the meat. And yes, I walked right into that one. But that right there is one reason. You’re easygoing. You’re charming. You’re kind. You’re funny. You’re smart. You’re ridiculously handsome.”
“Oh really? Ridiculously?”
“Insanely good-looking.”
“Do continue.”
“You’re amazingly gorgeous. You’re out-of-this-world beautiful.”
I’m not often called beautiful. It’s a word reserved more for women or works of art. Oddly enough, I don’t mind it. Maybe because it came with a litany of praise, or perhaps it’s the way she says each word with a particular flare. Whatever the reason, I can’t help but give some back to her when I say, “And your child will have a beautiful mother.”
“And that,” she says, gesturing to me. “That right there. You’re just . . .” She lets her voice trail off. “You’re good, Ryder. You’re good.”
I raise an eyebrow skeptically. “Is that like nice? As in he’s a nice guy? Because nice guys finish last.” I’m sure Maggie thought I was a nice guy. A perfectly nice fellow she could cheat on.
Nicole shakes her head. “I didn’t say nice. I said good because you’re one of the good ones.”
I don’t see myself that way. I also don’t see myself as donor material. Given how my business nosedived post-divorce, it’s hard to see myself as anything but the man with the ultimate black mark on his record.
Ryder Lockhart, Manhattan’s so-called love doctor. He could help any man score any woman for life.
Except himself.
Hiring me as a dating coach nowadays is akin to hiring a junk-food-scarfing personal trainer to trim down. You just didn’t do it. “I don’t know about that, but I appreciate the thought.”
“You are a good guy,” she says, emphatically. “You have a good heart. I understand this isn’t a small request. But I hope you’ll consider it because I know I’ll be a good mother, and I want to give my child the best genes possible. I think that’s you.”
Nicole is showering me with praise. I’m not entirely sure how to receive it, especially since this is a new side I’m seeing of her. She’s always been the cool chick, the bright and bold co-worker. Quick with a quip, but thoughtful and caring, too. I’m reminded of a day last year when Maggie blindsided me with a phone call at work, one of her attempts to win me back. The call didn’t last long, but it unnerved me, got under my skin. I didn’t get into the details with anyone, but Nicole sensed I wasn’t having the best day, so she nudged me with her elbow after my show and said, “Guess what? Two-for-one beers at the Lucky Spot tonight. On me.”