“He is just anxious,” she said quickly, her nails tapping against the arm of the wicker bench. “If we don’t do this now, we can’t do it at all.”
“Why the rush?” I asked. “You still have time.”
“The clinic has a strict deadline on the storage fees for the embryos,” she said, her fingers slipping from mine as she reached for her pocket. “It has to be this autumn, or they require us to transfer them to a different facility, which costs thousands more.”
“Surely they can extend it if you explain the circumstances,” I said.
“No,” Claire said, her jaw tightening in a way that reminded me of our father when he was cornered. “They won’t.”
“Is there something else, Claire?” I asked, looking at her pale face.
“I just want my baby, Marianne,” she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. “That is all.”
Evan was waiting by his black sedan when I walked Claire out to the driveway, his hand resting on the polished roof of the car. He had the door open, the engine idling with a low, expensive purr that sounded out of place next to my rusted Buick.
“We will handle the finances,” Evan said as I approached, his short sentences landing like blows. “Every single medical bill.”
“I have my own insurance through the county dental clinic,” I said.
“We want the best doctors, not the county clinic,” Evan said, his tone clipped and efficient. “We will pay the twelve thousand four hundred dollars for the private obstetrician at the women’s center.”
“That is a lot of money for a standard delivery,” I said.
“It is a necessary investment for our child,” he said, adjusting his watch strap again before checking his phone screen. “We will also provide a monthly stipend to cover your groceries and utilities.”
“I don’t want your money, Evan,” I said. “If I do this, it is because Claire is my sister, not because of a financial transaction.”
“Of course,” he said, though his eyes remained fixed on his phone screen as it buzzed in his palm. “But we must be clear on the terms. Everything must be legal.”
“What terms are you talking about?” I asked.
