“You think I could do that?”

“Why not? Or if not you, then Dr. Davidow, or his boss, or whoever owns this place.”

“Dr. Davidow is the owner.”

“Fine, him then. I’d go the extra mile for one of my clients. I wouldn’t take no for an answer. But no one’s doing that for us, or even offering to do that.”

Christine cringed at the accusatory tone in Marcus’s voice, which though it was controlled, was plainly resentful.

Michelle leaned back in her chair. “Marcus, how do you feel about that?”

“How do you think I feel? What difference does it make how I feel?”

Christine felt torn, understanding his frustration but not wanting to alienate Michelle. She turned to Marcus. “Babe, this is a discussion we should have with Dr. Davidow, don’t you think?”

Michelle smiled at Christine, in a pat way. “Christine, thank you, but you needn’t come to my aid.” Then she turned to Marcus. “However, I do think we’re getting off track—”

“No, we’re finally on track, if you ask me. As for how I feel, I would say I feel angry. Angry enough to do something about it.”

Christine swallowed hard, but having been signaled not to interrupt, stayed quiet.

“Marcus, we’ve talked before about how infertility issues have been a challenge for you as a couple, and you, in particular, because you tend to assume the role of fixer, as many men do. This may be a situation which you can’t fix.”

“That’s what you think. I’m not going to let my wife go through what she’s going through. I’m not going to put myself through this either. I will fix the situation.”

Michelle sighed, her tanned shoulders going up and down, once. “Please, let’s start over. I feel as if we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot. Fair enough?”

“Suit yourself.” Marcus sat back in his chair. “It’s your bus. You drive it.”

“Marcus, I’m here as your therapist and Christine’s. I’m on your side.”

Christine felt tears come to her eyes, knowing it was true. Michelle was always on their side, even through the hardest times, and she’d helped both of them. Families First had made her a mother, but she wouldn’t say that aloud, right now.

Michelle continued, “If you remember in our earliest sessions, we talked about the importance of acceptance in dealing with infertility. That you accept the situation you find yourself in and try to find solutions from there.”

Marcus snorted. “Doesn’t ‘find solutions’ mean fix it?”

Michelle shook her head. “No. It means, accept what there is and move forward. My job is to help you understand, both as individuals and as a couple, what will make you feel better and most comfortable, going forward. That’s how you arrived at your wonderful solution, which was to use a donor, so that you both could experience the joys of pregnancy.”

Marcus rolled his eyes. “And it’s turned out to be such a joy.”

Christine looked over, stung. “It has, honey. I’m excited, at least I was before this happened.” She turned to Michelle in bewilderment. “But now, I have to admit, I’m confused. I can’t sort out my feelings. I’m bollixed up.”

Michelle nodded. “Yes, and part of this process is that you and Marcus are not always in the same place at the same time. Christine, you’re going to experience this pregnancy more directly than Marcus. That’s also true of whatever bad or good news may come. You’re carrying the child, and you made a genetic contribution to the child. Right now, this is happening to you in a way it isn’t to him.”

Christine swallowed hard. It was exactly how she felt.

Michelle turned to Marcus. “In the past, Marcus, you have felt, and understandably so, more removed. Our work in therapy has been to help you see how involved you can be, equally involved, and that will come more easily as the pregnancy progresses and you two go to doctor’s appointments, see the ultrasound, and hear the heartbeat. You will experience all of that together.” Michelle sat back, gesturing to them both as a couple. “You are not yet in the same position, but you will get there. I’m here to help you both accept what is happening, cope with it, and move on.”

“But how do we move on from this?” Christine blurted out, her heart speaking out of turn.

“When we don’t even know the truth?” Marcus added.

Michelle eyed them both. “We put this in perspective. Granted, we don’t know if 3319 is the man who was arrested. But let’s assume for the purposes of discussion that he is.”

“Oh no.” Christine moaned.

Marcus grimaced, looked away, saying nothing.

Michelle held up a manicured index finger. “But wait. I have help. I’ve arranged for a wonderful genetics counselor to join us, if you wish. Her name is Lucy McCabe. She came in today at our request, but I did not want to invite her into our session unless you agreed. How do you feel about that?”

“Bring her in.” Marcus shifted forward in the soft chair. “I think it makes more sense to talk about facts rather than feelings, right now. I’d love to talk to a geneticist. I did some research of my own.”

Christine looked over, surprised. “What do you mean?”

“I read some things online, last night.”

Michelle nodded. “Okay, but Lucy is not a geneticist. A geneticist is an M.D. Lucy is a genetics counselor, she has a master’s degree. She conducts risk assessments for hereditary conditions, whether the child is conceived via a third-party or not.”

Christine translated the jargon. A third-party conception was one involving either an egg donor, a sperm donor, or a gestational surrogate, which was a woman who carried a couple’s child to term though she made no genetic contribution. “So why do you want us to talk to her?”

“We ask her to consult from time to time, and I think the world of her. She’s full of useful information.” Michelle turned to Christine. “Would you like her to join us? Or would you rather we talked alone, then you can meet with her at another time? Christine?”

“I’d like that, and now is fine.”

“Why wait, right?” Marcus answered, motioning at the door. “Send her in.”

“Terrific.” Michelle half-rose, reached for a landline on the desk, and pressed an intercom button. Silence fell, and Christine tried to not let it bother her. Normally their sessions with Michelle were so chatty, they’d often run beyond their allotted hour, but the air in the room felt newly charged, so that it came as a relief when someone knocked.