“Nope. Just reproductive science.”
“Does the tea come with whiskey?”
Tessa cleared her throat, then simply turned to me and smiled. “So. Ready for your consult?”
I took a deep breath, took Cal’s hand, and nodded. “Yep. Let’s do this.”
Cal stood beside me and squeezed my hand back as we followed Tessa through the door and into whatever came next.
Tessa led us down a quiet hallway lined with abstract paintings of flowers that all vaguely resembled uteruses. Her heels clicked authoritatively on the floor, and I felt like I was being marched to my midterm results.
The consultation room was small and private, with a round table, three comfortable chairs, and a box of tissues placed exactly where everyone in the room could reach them. There was a glass carafe of cucumber water on a tray, two glasses, and a subtle lavender diffuser doing its best to calm me down. It failed.
“Make yourselves comfortable,” Tessa said, tapping her iPad awake. “This won’t be a formal interview, just a conversation to get to know you both and talk through the process.”
Cal and I sat down across from her, our knees touching under the table. Mine were bouncing. His were steady. Why were hissteady? He was supposed to be as anxious as me. Then again, I knew Cal had trained himself to exude calm professionalism when he needed to. Yes, he fell apart in front of me every once in a while, but when he needed to put on his façade, he did it with frightening ease. I guess that’s how you become a billionaire… which is probably why I still earned eight dollars an hour delivering flowers for Mrs. Mulroney, plus tips.
“First of all,” Tessa said, looking between us. “Congratulations on taking this step. It’s a big one. A hopeful one. And I know it can feel overwhelming.”
“Oh, good,” I said. “So the heart palpitations are normal?”
She smiled, professional and warm. “Completely.”
Cal leaned forward. “We’ve read the materials, and we know it’s a long process. But we’re ready. We think.”
I turned to him. “You think?”
“Iknow,” he corrected quickly, squeezing my hand under the table.
Tessa nodded approvingly. “Then let’s start at the beginning. I have the intake forms you filled out online before the meeting”—she tapped her screen—“and I can see you’ve already noted your preference for a gestational surrogate, and that you’re planning to use an egg donor rather than someone you know.”
“We figured it would be less complicated,” I said. “Emotionally, genetically, logistically, astrologically. Not to mention the fact that Mrs. Mulroney once told me her eggs were drier than the dust under her fridge.”
It was a joke. A nervous one. But all Tessa said was—
“Oh! Well then. We’ll guide you through the options once you’ve chosen a donor profile. Now, before we get into timelines, I want to ask a few personal questions. Nothing invasive—just things to help me understand your dynamic as a couple and what kind of surrogate might be a good match.”
“Okay,” I said. “Well, if you need to know, I can tell you Caland I are incredibly well -matched. Like a lock and key. Except the key’s a bit neurotic and the lock is… very patient.”
Tessa chuckled. “That’s actually helpful. Humor is good. It keeps couples grounded.”
“Great,” I said. “Then I’m basically a sandbag tethering us to the earth.”
Cal kissed my temple. “You’re my gravity, babe.”
I groaned. “Don’t say things like that in front of professionals.”
“I’ve heard worse,” Tessa said. “Much worse. You’d be amazed what people blurt out in these meetings.”
I let out a pent-up sigh. “Oh God, that’s a relief. So, we’re not the weirdest couple you’ve ever met?”
“Not even close. Last week I had a couple bring a PowerPoint presentation about their childhood traumas. One of them included clip art.”
Cal let out a soft laugh. “You didn’t tell me we could bring slides.”
Tessa laughed back. “Perhaps next time.”
“Don’t encourage him,” I said. “I’m very serious about getting this right. I already tried to manifest a calm, happy future by holding a crystal I found in a parking lot. It might’ve been gravel.”
