The Family They Chose / Private Partners: The Family They Chose / Private Partners

Again, she choked back a rush of tears. “But my other question, Dr. Demetrios, is what do I have to do to reverse this condition?”

He looked stricken and Olivia knew what he was going to say before he said it. Even so, as the words, “I’m sorry, early onset menopause isn’t reversible,” spilled out of his mouth, Olivia’s vision went white-hot and fuzzy around the edges. The walls were closing in—she had to get out of that office.

The next thing she knew, she found herself in the parking lot, huddled against the biting cold December wind, sobbing uncontrollably and fumbling in her purse for her keys.

As she pulled them out, Chance was standing beside her saying something about not letting her drive when she was so upset, but the words were so jumbled she couldn’t quite be sure.

When he touched her arm, she nearly crumpled and fell into a heap of sobs and tears right there in the parking lot. Dr. Demetrios caught her in the nick of time and held her as she sobbed. But the feel of his strong arms around her made her long for Jamison. She jerked away from him, clicked the car door remote and tried to slide her slight frame into the driver’s seat. Chance caught her arm and kept her from doing so.

“Olivia, you’re too upset to drive.” He’d chased after her without a jacket and he shivered against the cold. “Please come back inside until you can get a hold of yourself. It’s cold out here and you really have no business driving right now.”

Get a hold of myself?

She glared at him. He had just shattered her world with a single revelation. How was she supposed to get a hold of herself when she no longer had a foundation to stand on?

“I can’t go back in there,” she said through gritted teeth. “I’m not ready to tell my family about …” She took a deep breath. “About my condition. Not until I’ve had a chance to process it myself and discuss it with my husband.”

Chance nodded.

“I understand. But I still can’t let you drive right now. Let’s walk over to the Coach House Diner just up the street. Then I’ll take you home. We could get some coffee at the diner—”

“I don’t drink coffee,” she snapped, and immediately regretted it. Especially since he didn’t bristle back at her. He remained calm, unfazed. His dark eyes were patient and kind.

“I’m sorry, Dr. Demetrios. It’s just that.” Instinctively, almost protectively, she laced her hands over her belly.

He smiled his patient smile and nodded to let her know he understood.

“No apology necessary. You’ve received shattering news. What kind of a doctor would I be if I didn’t cut you some slack? But as I said, I’d still like to discuss your options.”

“I have options? The prognosis sounded pretty final.”

“There are possibilities. I don’t want to falsely raise your hopes, but this isn’t the end of the line. If you’d prefer not to come back inside, let’s go to the diner.”

Olivia sucked in a breath. She was feeling markedly stronger now.

“I suppose I could go back to your office.”

“Good, I’d put on a fresh pot of coffee just before you arrived and I’m dying for a cup. I’ll steep you a cup of herbal tea and we’ll talk.”

Her options were slim.

Chance drew more blood and said he’d have to send it out to be analyzed to see if her ovaries were still producing eggs. If they were, he advised that they harvest as many as possible for future in vitro procedures because, according to the files, they’d used up the rest of her harvested eggs in the last procedure. There was still plenty of Jamison’s frozen sperm—and more where that came from—but for a future procedure to be possible, they’d need more from her.

If not, their best chance at a family was adoption.

The thought made her feel queasy. Not so much the thought of giving someone else’s child a home as much as the implications that it meant she would be barren.

Either way, Chance promised to put a rush on the lab and set an appointment for her at nine o’clock in the morning on December 31.

New Years Eve.

On the last night of the year she would learn her fate. The last night. Her last chance.

Olivia left Chance’s office with a heavy heart, but a firm resolve to think positive. Chance had told her to discuss the options with Jamison—as if that was going to happen—at least not in the near future, and that made things all the worse.

As she started to tear up again, she reminded herself firmly that it wasn’t over until it was over. Right now, she just had to believe the best would happen.

She didn’t want to see anyone as she was leaving. When she left Chance’s office, she’d mustered every ounce of calm self-control she possessed so that he wouldn’t commit her to the psych ward or make her go to the Coach House Diner. Not that there was anything wrong with the diner. She’d been there on several occasions, but today it was the last place she wanted to be. Rather than sobbing her heart out in public, she wanted to be in her own house, surrounded by familiarity and the things she loved. Maybe she’d bake some bread today. She could take it to the Children’s Home tomorrow. She was on the board of directors and was due for a visit.

Her shoes echoed loudly on the cold, barren hallway floors of the institute, and there was no hiding when she rounded the corner and came face-to-face with her brother Derek.

“Olivia? What are you doing here?” Derek was Paul’s twin, but the two couldn’t be more different if they came from different mothers. Where Paul was warm and personable, Derek was steely and calculating.

Olivia’s shaking hand fluttered to her face and she swiped at her eyes. She must look a mess.

She opened her mouth to answer him, but instead, she choked on a sob.

“Livie, what’s wrong?” Derek demanded. The change in him was instant. One second he was the cold professional sporting his “work face,” the next he was big brother to the rescue. When he switched into that mode, Olivia automatically regressed into the role of little sister.

The next thing she new, Derek had whisked her down the hall and into his office. Behind closed doors, she found herself blubbering and confiding in him, sister to brother, divulging the bleak prognosis Chance had just leveled and confessing her marital woes.

Even though she wasn’t particularly close to Derek, he always managed to get her to open up whether she wanted to or not. He had a way of getting her to confess things she didn’t even share with her closest friends. Maybe it was because they were a bit removed from each other, therefore there was no risk of disappointing him or being judged.

“Jamison doesn’t even know I’m here today.”

Derek regarded her with a frown from across the desk, his eagle eyes sharp and piercing.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Liv. Based on what you’ve told me, his not knowing might be the best thing. He wants you to wait to get pregnant, but obviously waiting might not be an option and if he won’t even discuss it … well, that gives you free rein to take matters into your own hands. Who is he to dictate what you can and can’t do with your body?”

Olivia felt sheepish. “Well, he is my husband.”

Derek slapped the desk. “I know that, but he doesn’t own you. If you want a kid, then you should have a kid. Especially you. If we were talking about Lisa, I’d be singing another tune, but you were born to be a mother.”

Heat spread across Olivia’s face and she felt every bit the old-fashioned, 1950s housewife. Their sister, Lisa, ran with the big boys. Even though she was the baby of the family, she had no trouble matching her brothers move for move.

“I mean if Demetrios is right—and I’d stake my own reputation on him—then you have no time to waste.”

Olivia chewed on her French manicured index fingernail, hoping to stave off another wave of tears before she could speak. Once she’d composed herself, she said, “Going on what Dr. Demetrios said, if we’re not able to harvest my eggs, this is all a moot point. So please don’t hold it against Jamison, Derek.”

Derek frowned. “I thought we’d stored your eggs?”

Olivia shook her head. “We used them up in the last in vitro attempt.”

Derek squinted at her, a look that concerned her because when he pulled that expression he’d usually latched on to an idea that wasn’t always conventional. Then he turned to his computer and started tap-tapping on the keys.

“What are you doing?”

He didn’t answer her, but instead donned a pair of reading glasses and focused intently on his computer screen. A moment later, he said, “I’ve pulled up your file. I see we still have plenty of Jamison’s tadpoles frozen away. Reports indicate that they’re healthy and viable.”