"It worked."
She looks nervous, which is odd considering you've been having sex with her every couple of nights for the past seven months. But her fingers are laced together behind her back and she rocks back onto the pegged heels of her stilettos. A slight blush has risen into her cheeks and she smiles kind of cheekily at you. Which makes you want to see how far south the blush extends, but you simply nod and stay in your chair.
"Good."
You'd known this was coming, but you're not really ready for it, you realize. Seven months ago, when she had first confided in you about her wishes, you hadn't really covered everything in your somewhat shallow, thorough analysis of the situation. In fact, you probably hadn't actually thought about the end at all seven months ago since it only took you three seconds to agree then. Only now your mistake is coursing through your bloodstream and you hate yourself in that moment because you will never get to touch her again.
"I just thought you might want to know." She leans into the edge of your desk and grins, clearly trying to contain her joy. "And I wanted to say thank you."
You nod again. You seem to be doing a lot of that lately. "My sperm is your sperm."
Her hand slides down the side of your face and rests on your jawbone. "Well, maybe it will forever have been just sex for you. But for me, you have given me the gift of life. And it means more to me than I can put into words."
"But you're going to try anyway." You mumble and hate yourself for such sarcasm when she's being so honest and sweet to you, but you can't help it.
She leans forward and kisses you lightly on the lips. "No, I won't put you through that."
She's out the door before you can think of a reason to call her back, and it's probably for the best. Her and the baby are probably light-years better off without you. Why? You aren't entirely sure. They just are. Still, there is this tightening knot in the pit of your stomach that screeches you've just signed away your peaceful life of solitude.
You pop a Vicodin and grin mischievously to yourself. Bring it on.
Okay, peeps. This is something I wrote on a whim because I've been suffering from severe writer's block. But if you want me to continue, just let me know and I will. I sorta got a plot in mind. I know this is really short, but like I said, must break the block. This'll hopefully take care of that. So if you want, I'll continue. If you don't, I'll try something else. Your choice.