For the next few hours, despite her presence as my personal clown, I'm still bothered by what happened with Owen so right after my shots, I decided to call it a night and head to bed.
Yep, those two shots still hurt like a bitch. And my visit to the doctor today wasn’t fruitful because she had to postpone it last minute due to personal issues so I have to come back tomorrow for the ultrasound.
But from the result I received at the last check up, my ovaries are releasing five eggs each, making it a total of ten growing follicles.
Ten! Can you believe it? The three cycles I had last time at Aberdeen managed to harvest only a maximum of five mature eggs so I’m definitely delighted, excited, beyond happy and grateful about the outcome of this cycle.
So yeah, I'm embracing the pain however I can, cause I can’t wait to get pregnant with my baby. My own baby.
"Darling," Cleo calls me from the living room when I'm about to hit the pillow.
"You have a guest." A guest? Since when do I have a guest? I've never had one ever since I moved in last year. Minus Santiago, Cleo and Kimmie, of course.
"Who? My baby daddy?" I giggle at my own joke since we've been debating what would I do if my baby wants to find his biological father when he or she has grown up.
"Who is ittt?" I ask again in a sing-song tone, while forcing myself to get off the bed.
"Is he sexy-shmexy?" I laugh louder before pulling my door open, only to see there's an ex-baby daddy standing next to her.
"You guys have a chat," she rushes to the console table next to the main door, reaching for her keys and handbag, "We've run out of milk, will be back in an hour. Or two."
It's just an excuse, because she just restocked our supplies yesterday. But I'm too busy staring at the man standing in my living room, and the last thing I hear before the door's being shut is, "You kids be nice to each other okay!"
Just like that we’re left alone in this apartment. I’m in my silly pink cat pyjamas set with a bird nest on top of my head, thick framed glasses with no make up on, gosh I feel like running to my room to at least put my lipstick on and run the blusher on my cheek for a bit of color on my pale skin.
Compared to him who look effortlessly charming.
He’s wearing a black leather jacket that showcases his huge biceps. The plain white t-shirt underneath that jacket isn’t exactly tight but I sure can imagine the hidden treasure that I’ve traced my fingers on a million times in the past. A pair of thick muscled thighs inside that pair of blue jeans. His not too long yet not too short hair is slightly messy but it is definitely the main contributor to this sexy look.
Okay. I can testify that the drugs are totally working because I just described my ex-husband the way I'm about to do inappropriate things to him.
I pretend not to hear it as I walk to my kitchen, straight to my alcohol stash, "Scotch?"
I don't know why I have Scotch in this house because I don't drink them, Santiago didn't, Cleo and Kimmy too. The fact that Owen never graced his presence in my house is definitely not helping my case here.
Fine, I guess I wanted to be ready just in case he steps foot in here.
"I'm sorry for being an asshole."
I smile to myself while getting a clean glass in the cabinet. Thank God he's facing my back so he can't see my smile.
I know I should be mad from what happened since the past few weeks, especially how he behaved earlier today, but the way he apologised, and called himself an asshole, well, I just won.
Not really sure what I'm winning here but I won. I fucking won.
"I left you five years ago, and I left you again now. I'm sorry, Elle."
Five years ago? When we were at Aberdeen?
"We were not ourselves, we hadn't been ourselves since we started IVF. I know you'd force yourself for another cycle so I thought it's best to stop it. Stop the obsession. Stop yourself from doing something just for me."
I turn around to look at him. Standing tall right where I saw him a minute ago, his pained expression is making me uncomfortable.
"That's why I sent the divorce papers. I loved you too much to see you in pain again and again. I might not feel the physical pain but believe me, it killed me everytime I had to give you those shots. It killed me everytime you're sad when the tests end up negative."
I put the glass on the counter, not wanting to drop it on the floor because I feel like this is just the beginning of what he's about to unveil.
"I wanted to stop after the second IVF but I didn't want to disappoint you, even if it was becoming too much for me. The only thing we had was hope, and I didn't think it was right for me to take that away from you, just because I didn't feel like it. But when she died, I-" he directs his gaze to the other direction, as if he can't look at me in the eye, "I really couldn't take it anymore."
I look down on my toes as tears escape from my eyes. I never imagined we'd have this conversation. I thought we're going to sweep everything under the rug until the day we die, pretending we don't have a bitter history between us.
"You were already hurting so bad the last thing I wanted to do was make you feel worse. But I couldn't be strong anymore, I couldn't lie to myself anymore. I felt like I was stuck, I couldn't breathe, I needed some space. I needed to get away, get out of that house. That's why I left like a coward. A true asshole."
I brave myself to look up again, only to realise he's already standing right in front of me.
"I was an asshole." He mutters before pulling me into his embrace.
"That's why you're back to being gay?"
"Asshole. Gay. Asshole. Helloooo?"
He quickly lets go of me with a stern face, "I'm being serious, Elle!"
I grin then turn around to take the glass, at the same time wiping my wet cheeks.
"I'm sorry I broke my promise." He whispers once he hugs me from behind, parking his head on my right shoulder.
"Which promise?" I ask nonchalantly as I pour the scotch into the glass.
"Thank you for accepting me back in your life."
"Only because you have a cute daughter." I raise the glass for him to take it, but he kisses my cheek instead.
"Here," I turn my body to face him that he has to pull his arms from my middle, taking a step backward to give me space while creating a distance between us.
He takes the glass but puts it back on the kitchen counter behind me, "I freaked out when you told me you're gonna do IVF again. I was scared, Elle. So scared, so not ready to repeat the same thing. I'm sorry I spaced out again, Precious."
All of a sudden I feel like we're back in our old house, in Aberdeen when he voiced out how scared he was to undergo the third IVF cycle. That he needed more time.
I argued how invalid his requests were, because I was the one who went through the process. All he had to do was inject me with the drugs every single day, and masturbate in the restroom to provide a cup of sperm, how ready did he need to be?
I certainly didn't take into account his emotional pain.
"I have blonde hair, mix of green and blue eyes, a little shorter than six feet four but still, does two inches really matter?" He remembered my donor's criteria.
I give him a knowing look that yes, those two inches do matter, if you know what I mean. Or should I say, if you know where it matters.
He smiles with the dimple I've been looking for, "I want Pao to have a sibling. Can you consider me as your sperm donor?"
That, is totally uncalled for.
"You said you can't go through another IVF cycle."
"Will you stop if I say I can't?"
"Exactly. So I might as well just ask."
I roll my eyes again then move to the couch. He follows me after grabbing the glass.
"I've already chosen my donor. Besides, I want green eyes. If I take your sperm, there's a possibility the baby's gonna have blue eyes. Blue plus green-blue equals two blues and one green. Two blues win. So nope." I purposely pop that P.
"Princess Pao has my hair and eyes."
"That's your testimony? Well, what's her biological mom's hair and eye color? Not that I'm considering your request but just asking for a friend."
He sips the content of the glass then puts it on the coffee table, leaning back to the couch we're sharing. His long arm slowly creeps behind me before he pulls me for a loose hug.
"Hah! Even a dumb person can guess blonde plus blonde equals to what!"
He laughs despite his teary face twenty minutes ago, "Oh come on. Isn't it exciting if we can tell people after ten years we're finally blessed with a child?"
"I couldn't care less about what people would say." Because I haven't visited my family in Texas since the loss. I don't wanna hear any more condescending comments.
"I don't think I can put us in that situation anymore," I tell him when I'm sending him to the door, right after Cleo comes home and hides in the guest bedroom.
"Thanks for the offer but we won't survive if the same thing happen. It destroyed our relationship five years ago, I won't allow anything to come in between this friendship. I need you more as a friend than my baby daddy."