The Baby Bond. Lilian Darcy

      “There’s really only one answer. I want us to get married, Julie,” he said. “As soon as possible.”

      Chapter Three

      “Married!”

      She’d expected all sorts of things, but not that. She’d been planning to agree to it all, too. A written acknowledgment that he was the father of the child? Sure! A contract stipulating partial custody on vacations and weekends? No problem! A shared say on issues such as schooling and TV privileges and dating? Why not! And if he’d proposed that the baby be ritually baptized at the age of eight months in a fire-walking ceremony performed by New Guinea highland tribesmen, she’d probably have given that idea respectful consideration, as well.

      But marriage?

      “That’s insane!”

      “Is it?”

      “Yes. You can’t be serious,” she stated.

      “But I am. Absolutely.”

      “That’s—”

      “Consider the other options,” he urged. “I have. For hours. And however we might feel about them, we don’t have the right to put ourselves first in this situation. We have to think of the baby.”

      “I am thinking of the baby!”

      “Are you?” he demanded. “Let’s see.” He raised a long, tanned finger. “Number one, there’s abortion.” The word sounded blunt and ugly. “That sure as hell isn’t thinking of the—”

      “Agreed,” she said sharply. “And I’ve already told you, that’s not an option!”

      “So delete that. Number two, I thank you very politely for coming, and for your interesting news, and wish you a nice life. Our child then grows up with a test tube for a father.”