Chapter 3

Erin's POV

Last night, I fell asleep out of pure exhaustion. After going through Rowan’s phone, as well as his laptop, and home office, I was physically and mentally spent.

Eight months was how long my husband had been having an affair with my best friend.

Eight months of him making love to me in the evenings and fucking her on his lunch break. Eight months of two sets of flowers being sent to both women. Eight months of work trips that never happened.

Eight months of betrayal.

The moment my eyes opened, I saw the book I was reading sat neatly on the table, and an extra blanket was draped over my body. I’d positioned the book open on my chest as if I’d fallen asleep on the couch reading.

I couldn’t stand the thought of sharing a bed with him after what I’d seen, and yet when he found me this morning, curled up, blanketless, and with my book, he acted as the perfect husband.

That hurt worse. At least I could understand what went wrong if something had gone wrong.

Everything that I found late in the night flooded my mind like a tidal wave, making me feel instantly nauseous. I quickly pushed the blankets off, barely making it to the half-bathroom before nothing but bile spilled from my throat.

I’d already thrown up last night’s dinner after watching a video of Ophelia on her knees with my husband's dick in her mouth.

The sound of my ringtone blaring from the other room had me resting my head against the toilet seat for just a moment before heading back out to the living room.

“Hello?” the number was from the clinic.

“Good morning, Mrs. Connolly. How are you doing?”

“I’ve been better,” I choked out. Now that I was officially on the phone with the clinic, the weight of my new reality was crashing over me, and it felt like my throat was closing in on itself. “Is everything okay?”

I was met with silence that formed a pit in my stomach with every second that ticked by.

“This phone call is very difficult for us to make, but we need you and your husband to come down to the clinic for a discussion. Is there a time that works best for you?” the polite young woman sounded tense.

“I can come now if that works…”

“The doctor will be awaiting your arrival,” she responded in relief. “We will see you both soon, Mrs. Connolley.”

I changed into something comfortable, uncaring that I no longer fit the bill of ‘perfect wife’ in the Connelley’s eyes. If someone saw me in my sweats and a t-shirt and found an issue with it, they could effectively kiss my left ass cheek.

The clinic was only about a fifteen-minute drive from the house, and by the time I arrived, I was ancy. My leg was bouncing rapidly, and my chest felt tight, as if someone had placed a thousand pound weight atop it.

I intended on contacting the clinic at some point today, but them contacting me was out of the ordinary.

“Erin Connolley,” I smiled tensely at the woman behind the glass. “Here to meet with Dr. Swart.”

Her eyes flashed wide, “Someone will be out to grab you shortly.”

Not even a minute later, I was being led back to a meeting room on the opposite side of the building from the medical center.

“There are refreshments right over there,” the woman pointed towards a desk with a single-serve coffee maker and an array of bagged snacks. “Dr. Swart will be with you momentarily.”

My fingers strummed nervously against the cheap, laminate table, shifting uncomfortably in my seat. For how much money goes into IVF, it’s a shame they can’t afford nicer tables and more comfortable chairs.

“Good morning, Erin. How are you feeling?” Dr. Swart enters the room, his normally warm smile tight and lined with worry.

“Confused, I suppose. What is with the urgency of this meeting?”

“Was Rowan not able to join us? I fear this is a conversation I’d prefer to have with both of you present.”

“He had important meetings that were unable to be moved around,” I lied. “I’d like to know what’s going on.”

“Always eager,” he chuckles, though it’s void of any real humor. “I’ll cut right to it then.” Dr. Swart takes his seat across from me, placing a thick folder in front of him. “There is no easy way to tell you this, so I will just come right out and say it. During your fertilization process, there was a mix-up with the sperm used to fertilize your egg. The embryo that was implanted within your uterus shares the DNA of another man.”

“Wait,” it takes my mind a moment to process the information that was just given to me. “Are you certain of this?”

He pulls out the top paper in his stack, sliding it over towards me, “It was discovered during the attempted fertilization for the other man that his donation was unaccounted for. We immediately launched an investigation, and after reviewing footage, as well as numbers, we’ve determined that your husband’s sperm was not used in the egg that was implanted inside of you two weeks ago, and we are very confident that we know whose sperm was.”

“Is there a test that can be done?” I whispered, feeling a flurry of emotions. Happiness that I wasn’t pregnant with the lying, cheating asshole that I was married to, but terrified of the implications that came along with being pregnant with another man’s baby.

“There is, yes, but not right away. Though as I said before, we are very confident that we are aware of whose sperm was used during your fertilization process.”

“Does the other party know?”

I wanted to be happy that it wasn’t Rowan’s, but the more I thought about it, the more I hated the thought that I’d robbed another family of their child.

“Yes, the donor is actually in my other conference room as we speak. There is a lot of information for you to go over in here," he tapped his stubby index finger against the manilla folder, "As well as forms to sign. We obviously understand that this is our mistake, and as a courtesy, neither party will be charged for the procedures related to this egg, and we’ve included information for both parties on termination if an agreement cannot be reached,” Dr. Swart rambled off information, but everything was happening too fast.

“What do you mean termination if an agreement cannot be reached?” my voice sounded foreign once again.

I’ve spent so long wishing for this dream of mine to become a reality, and yet I’m being faced with the possibility of termination...

“Due to the sensitivity surrounding this specific situation, it is always an advised option. You have to take into consideration that you are carrying another man’s child, and while you might be okay with this, both your husband and the donor may not.”

“I don’t give a damn who is okay with it,” I hissed. “This is my decision.”

“Of course,” Dr. Swart looked tense. “This is all premature anyway, given that we’re unsure if the embryo will stick.”

“I took a test,” I blurted out.

Dr. Swart’s bushy eyebrows shot to his forehead, but before he could ask any questions, I spoke again, “Can I meet the donor?”