“Yeah,” he said. “Me, too.” That night, after Vivian left and Eli was asleep, Adrian sat on the couch and thought about the decision he was about to make. It wasn’t rational. It wasn’t safe. It was messy and complicated and full of unknowns. But it was real. And maybe that was enough. He picked up his phone and sent Vivian a text.
“I’m in. Let’s do this.” Her response came almost immediately. “Are you sure?” He thought about it for a long moment. Then he typed, “No. But I’m doing it anyway.” The next step was harder than either of them expected. They met with a doctor, a fertility specialist Vivian had researched extensively, and sat through an appointment that felt more like a business meeting than a medical consultation.
The doctor explained the options, the timelines, the success rates. She asked questions about their medical histories, their expectations, their relationship. “So you’re not married?” the doctor said, glancing between them. “No,” Vivian said. “But we’re committed to co-parenting.” “And you’re comfortable with that, Mr.
Cole?” Adrian nodded. “Yeah, we’ve talked it through.” The doctor made a note. “All right. Well, there are a few routes we can take. IVF is the most controlled option, but it’s also the most invasive. Natural conception is simpler, but it requires more time and patience.” Adrian felt his face heat up.
He hadn’t really thought about the mechanics of this, the actual how of it. And now, sitting in a sterile office with a stranger asking about their sex life, the reality was hitting him hard. “We’ll need some time to discuss that,” Vivian said smoothly. “Of course, take your time. When you’re ready, we can move forward.” They left the appointment in silence, and it wasn’t until they were back in Vivian’s car that Adrian finally spoke.
“That was weird.” Vivian laughed, a short, sharp sound. “Yeah, it was.” “I didn’t really think about, you know, the actual process.” “Neither did I.” She gripped the steering wheel, staring straight ahead. “We don’t have to decide right now.” “I know, but we should probably talk about it.” “Okay.” “Let’s talk.
” Adrian took a breath. “IVF feels safer, more controlled.” “But also more clinical.” “Yeah.” Vivian turned to look at him. “What do you want to do?” “I don’t know.” “What do you want?” She hesitated. “I want it to feel real. Not like a transaction.” “So not IVF?” “I don’t know.” “Maybe.” She rubbed her face. “This is harder than I thought it would be.
” “Yeah.” Adrian leaned back in his seat. “Look, we don’t have to decide today. Let’s just take it one step at a time.” “Okay.” But the question lingered between them, unspoken and uncomfortable. Over the next few weeks, they danced around it. They spent more time together, growing closer, learning each other’s rhythms.
Vivian started coming to Adrian’s house more often, sharing dinners, helping Eli with homework, slowly becoming part of their routine. And Adrian found himself looking forward to her visits, to the sound of her laugh, to the way she fit into the spaces his life had left empty. One night, after Eli had gone to bed, they sat together on Adrian’s couch, a bottle of wine open on the coffee table between them.
“I’ve been thinking,” Vivian said. “About?” “About what the doctor said. About our options.” Adrian’s stomach tightened. “Yeah?” “I think we should try naturally, if you’re okay with that.” He looked at her, searching her face. “Are you sure?” “No, but I don’t want this to feel like a medical procedure.
I want it to feel like we’re choosing this together.” Adrian set his glass down. His heart was pounding, and he wasn’t sure if it was fear or something else. “Vivian, if we do that, it changes things between us.” “I know.” “We can’t go back from that.” “I know.” She met his eyes, and her expression was steady. “But I think we’re already past the point of going back.
” She was right. They both knew it. Adrian reached out and took her hand, and she didn’t pull away. Her fingers were warm, her grip firm, and for the first time in 3 years, Adrian let himself feel something other than grief. “Okay.” He said quietly. “Let’s do it.” Vivian nodded, and he saw the fear in her eyes, the hope, the terrible vulnerability of wanting something this much. They didn’t rush.
They finished the wine, talked about logistics, about timing, about what this would mean. And when the conversation finally ran out, they just sat there, holding hands in the dim light. Two people standing on the edge of something they couldn’t predict. But they were standing there together. And for now, that was enough.
The first attempt happened on a Thursday night in late April. Vivian had checked her cycle obsessively, consulted with the doctor twice, and planned everything down to the hour. She showed up at Adrian’s door at 8:30, after Eli had gone to sleep, carrying a small overnight bag and wearing an expression that was equal parts determination and terror.
Adrian let her in without a word. They talked about this moment for weeks, circling around it in careful conversations, building up to it like people preparing to jump off a cliff. Now that it was here, neither of them seemed to know what to say. “Do you want something to drink?” Adrian asked, because it seemed like the kind of thing you were supposed to offer.
