"Yeah," Daphne says, shaking her head. She flips to the bottom of the stack and produces Josh McCall's paper, covered with red marks, a big D, and a "You can do better" (with one exclamation point and a frowning face).

"Her guy?" I say.

"Uh-huh," she says, shaking her head and putting the stack of papers down. Then she clears her throat and says, "Look, Claudia, I know what you came here to tell me"

"You do?" I say.

She nods and says, "You don't want to be our egg donor, do you?"

There is nothing accusatory or bitter in her words or expression. To the contrary, she looks as if she feels sorry for me . That she understands my decision completely and even, in some small way, agrees with me.

I lean over and hug her. "I'm sorry," I say. "I just...I just can't do it."

"We figured as much," she says. "It's okay, Claudia. It really is."

"Can I explain?" I say.

"You don't have to."

"I want to."

"Is it just too weird for you?" she says.

I exhale and rub my eyes. "I guess that's part of it."

"Like you feel like you'd be having a baby with Tony?" she says, trying to smile.

"Well, maybe," I say. "Maybe a little"

"I know," she says. "I think Tony felt that way, too. I didn't see it until he asked me how I'd feel if the tables were turned and we were using my egg and his brother Johnny's sperm. I was like, 'That's so not a fair comparison. Claudia's beautiful and brilliant, and Johnny's a mean-spirited f.u.c.kup who had a really low SAT score' but I still got his point And I certainly don't want to do something that you, or Tony, might regret. This is too important."

"Thank you for saying that about me, Daphne," I say. "That's really nice. Thank you."

"Well, you are," she says. "And I don't think you're selfish for this decision. I don't."

"Okay," I say, feeling even worse because of how understanding she's being. "I just I feel like I'm really leaving you in the lurch. What are you guys going to do?"

"We have other options," she says. "We know we'll have a baby. And we're going to have the baby we're supposed to have. Whatever baby we end up having will be the right baby. Our baby. And we know that we'll hold that child and think, 'If our journey had been easy, we wouldn't have you .'"

"That is so true," I say, feeling incredibly proud of my sister. I ask her if they're considering adoption.

"Yeah," she says. "We started researching some domestic adoption agencies this week And my friend Beth just returned from China with the most beautiful little girl and we're also looking into this really cool program called Snowflake. Have you heard of it?"

I shake my head.

She explains that it's a program where a couple can adopt an embryo remaining after the genetic parents have a baby through in-vitro fertilization. "It's sort of a controversial Christian organization," she says.

"Why is it controversial?"

"Oh, I don't know. I guess because these parents essentially believe that the embryos are children. Which is why they call it 'adoption' and not 'donation' But Tony and I don't really care what they call it."

I say, "Well, that sounds like a great option And then you could still experience pregnancy and childbirth."

"Yeah," she says. "For some reason, carrying the baby is more important to me than the DNA So we're really optimistic and excited about moving forward, somehow."

"I'm glad, Daphne. Thank you for understanding." Then I hesitate, knowing that there is no taking back what I'm about to say next. But I want Daphne to be the first to know.

"What?" Daphne says.

"Well I I just wanted to tell you there's sort of another reason I didn't feel right about being your egg donor"

"What's that?" she says.

"Well, I think I think maybe I should have a baby of my own, after all."

She stares at me, her mouth dropping open. "You want a baby?"

"I want Ben."

"So, what? Are you guys getting back together?"

"I don't know," I say. "But it's all I want."

"And then you'd have a baby?" she says.

"If that's what it takes," I say. "I'll do whatever it takes to get Ben back."

twenty-five.

I plan on going straight to work the next morning from Daphne's house, but I left my bra at home. I would go without one, but I'm wearing a tight sweater that is on the thin, almost sheer, side. Daphne jokingly offers up one of her bras but we both know that's not an option. Her b.o.o.bs are significantly bigger than mine. So I head home to finish dressing, hoping that I don't run into Trey.

Fortunately, I don't.

I do, however, run into Michael, standing in front of the television with a remote in his hand, in all of his naked glory.

"s.h.i.t!" we yell in unison.

"What are you doing here?" I say, realizing how dumb the question is. I mean, he's certainly not here just lounging around in the buff, watching Sportscenter. I avert my eyes, but not before I catch an unwitting crotch-level shot of Michael that is sure to be emblazoned in my head forever. I combine the image with the sound effects from last night and think, Wow, Michael. And I thought you were nothing but another pretty-faced publicist .

At this point, Jess emerges from her bedroom, looking smug. "Have you two met?" She tosses a towel to Michael, who quickly wraps it around his waist.

"Yeah. We've met a few times," I say, smiling.

Michael smirks back at me and says, "We thought you were at Richard's."

"I was at Daphne's actually," I say, taking my coat off, remembering my bra situation one second too late.

"Nice tubes , Claudia," Michael says. "Guess it is show-and-tell at Elgin Press today. Or at least show . We can talk about it, though If you want."

I put my jacket back on and say, "Forgot my bra. Sorry."

"No need to apologize," Michael says.

Jess gives him a playful, but strangely possessive, jab, which tells me that this might be a dash more than an isolated hookup. At least in Jess's eyes. My instinct is to leave the room and get the separate scoop from both parties later in the day, but then I figure that I might as well just ask the question now. So I say, "What's going on here anyway? How long have you two been creeping around like this?"

Jess slides her arm around and says, "Since you were in Italy, and I found my sperm bank."

Michael laughs and says, "Don't listen to her. We use condoms."

Condoms , plural, I think, as Jess laughs and says, "I'm talking him into it, though," she says, laughing.

"Seriously?" I say.

"Seriously," Jess says. "He has good genes, you know."

I look at Michael, a man who can't even commit to giving a woman a key to his apartment. He smiles and shrugs.

"But we're also in love," Jess says. "So it's all good."

"That's true," Michael says. "I love her."

I study their matching inscrutable expressions. They are thoroughly amused with themselves but also strangely serious.

I shake my head and say, "This is too f.u.c.king weird." Then I head to my room to get a bra.

That afternoon, I am trying to work, but mostly contemplating how I should get in touch with Ben, when there is a knock on my office door. I a.s.sume it is Michael who has yet to show his guilty face.

"Come in!" I say, leaning back and mentally preparing my one-liner.

The door opens and Richard appears, sporting my favorite literary look: tweed blazer, turtleneck, and gla.s.ses. I am happy to see him and still quite attracted to him. But overriding this is a sense of awkwardness due to the fact that in the ten days since our return, this is our first face-to-face interaction.

"I didn't know you wore gla.s.ses," I say with a nervous laugh.

"Reading gla.s.ses," he says, taking them off and slipping them into his jacket pocket.

I smile and motion toward my guest chair. "Have a seat."

He closes the door to a crack and sits down.

"So, Parr? What's the deal?" he says. He gives me a little smirk that doesn't completely mask a dash of hurt pride. I am pretty sure that Richard is not accustomed to being blown off in any manner. "You didn't like Lake Como or what?"

I clear my throat and stammer, "I've just been busy But no, I had a lovely time at Lake Como."

"Lovely, huh?" Richard says with an amused expression.

"You know what I mean. I had a great time," I say more sincerely. " Thank you."

"You already thanked me," he says. "No need to say it again."

We smile at each other for what feels like ten minutes, but is probably only about thirty seconds. In that brief window, it becomes absolutely clear, if it wasn't already, that our affair is over. I know Richard has no deep feelings for me and I'm almost as sure that he has at least one other woman in his rotation, and a few on the back burner. But I still feel compelled to give him an explanation. So I say, "Listen. I feel really pathetic telling you this, but"

Richard interrupts and says, "Careful. Pathetic can be charming on the right woman."

I laugh and say, "Not in my case."

"Let me guess," he says. "You're still in love with your ex-husband?"

I look at him, wondering how he knew. I can't think of a single time I've brought Ben up since Raymond Jr.'s baptism. Then again, maybe that's precisely how he knew. I consider a full explanation, but instead I say offhandedly, "I told you it was pathetic."

Then I reach into my top desk drawer for my c.o.c.ktail ring. I can't return the trip to Italy, and it would be way too uncomfortable and gauche to offer up money for my half of our travel expenses. But I can symbolically return the ring. I say, "I feel weird about keeping this." As I attempt to hand it back to him, I have an unexpected jolt of being in high school when I returned Charlie's letter jacket to him upon our departure for college.

Richard waves me off and says, "Oh, for G.o.d's sake , Parr. It was nothing. It wasn't even that expensive. Keep it."

"Are you sure?" I say.

He gives me an exasperated look.

I put the box back in my drawer and say, "Okay thank you. I really do love it."

"Well," he says, standing. " That was the point, ya know." He stands as I feel a mix of relief and regret. I am relieved that the conversation was so painless, and that I have no sense that working together will be awkward moving forward, which is obviously the biggest fear with any office romance. But I feel regret because I like Richard and will miss hanging out with him. And frankly, I will also miss sleeping with him. The thought of being thirty-five, at my theoretical s.e.xual prime, and abstinent is not one that I relish. I know that I'm at risk for being completely alone. Richard turns to leave and then looks back at me with a trace of a smile. "If you change your mind, you know where to find me. Just call me. No strings attached."

After he is gone I replay his words and decide that although he meant it as a selling point, there is something almost tragic about a no-strings-attached kind of life.

Of course there is also something really sad about the opposite sort of life, too, a life where people stay together because of strings, I think, as Maura phones me from the parking lot of Zoe's ballet practice and says, "Well. He's doing it again."

I know right away that she is talking about Scott. He is cheating on her again.

"Could you be wrong?" I say. "Remember that one time you were wrong and he really was just working late?"

I hear her inhale and then say, "I hired someone to follow him. I have him on tape."

"Oh, G.o.d , Maura I'm so sorry."

"Don't," she says. "You'll make me cry."