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wasn’t going to ask you to service me two nights in a row. I thought you might want a day or two or realize I’m a crackpot. But yeah, I’m free. You want to come over again?”

    “Kind of.”

    “Then you should. Why don’t you meet me after work? I have to go to the paper store to get Christmas cards. Want to meet me in the Public Garden at six? The corner across from the church?”

    “Works for me.”

    I smile to myself. Rob’s coming over tomorrow evening, or he said he would. Chances are looking good this week…though a small part of me selfishly thinks a repeat performance next month isn’t so bad as consolation prizes go.

    * * *

    I spot Noah walking toward me at six precisely. He waves, face lit by the white Christmas lights strung on the trees along the pond. A Macy’s bag swings from his hand.

    “Let me guess,” I say as we meet. “New pants?”

    He nods. He looks a little shy, a little devious. The look of a man guaranteed to get laid.

    “Good day?” I ask. “What do you teach, anyhow?”

    “Film history, mostly. Some screenwriting.”

    “Wow, cool. What’s your favorite era for movies, then?”

    Noah’s face lights up, not unlike the way I hope my future child’s might one day. “Seventies, hands-down. Taxi Driver, Dog Day Afternoon …”

    “ Chinatown .”

    He nods. He looks about ready to lean in and cheek kiss me, but we’re interrupted.

    “Abby?”

    Oh, fuck me. It’s Rob. He strides as much as one can over the ice heaves in our direction.

    “Rob,” I say, just as Noah says the same. Then I say, “Huh?”

    “Noah, right?” Rob reaches us and extends a gloved hand. Noah nods and they shake.

    “You guys know each other?” I ask, horrified. So much for discretion.

    “We work out at the same studio,” Noah says and aims a finger down Boylston Street.

    “You kickbox ?” I ask him. Noah’s medical history just had “cardio” down for his exercise habits.

    “A little bit,” he says. “Mostly I regular box.” That explains the arms.

    “How do you know Abby?” Rob asks Noah, and my stomach churns.

    “We, um…” Noah trails off.

    “He’s trying to impregnate me,” I say, then blush so hard I feel overheated, even in the numbing breeze.

    Rob laughs, a loud bark, and Noah’s eyes widen. He stares at me, horrified.

    “It’s okay,” I say. “ So’s he.”

    “Holy shit,” Noah says.

    “God, fucking Boston.” I look around us, torn between wanting to laugh and die. Adrenaline leaves my body, making me feel drunk and hyper.

    “That’s a relief,” Rob says. “I was afraid you were her secret infertile husband or something,” he says to Noah. “Or that I’d gotten caught up in some really twisted infidelity scheme.”

    “It is twisted,” I remind him. “But only in the capacity you guys already knew about.”

    Noah’s smiling tightly at my side. I wonder if the whole plan is wrecked, if he’s totally creeped out by putting a face to the genetic competition, or if a bright light has been shone on my spurious morals. I stare at the disgruntled ducks huddled by the edge of the frozen pond for a moment.

    “Is this weird?” I ask, looking between my two donors.

    They glance at each other for a few beats; then Noah shrugs. “No, I don’t think so. Just a bit nuts that we know each other.”

    Rob shakes his head in an agreeable way.

    “Oh good,” I say, though I still feel as though I’ve been caught doing something unseemly. I suppose I have. But the fact that I’ve come this far with my crazy scheme gives me hope that I’ll survive this little lapse in donor diplomacy. Provided Noah and Rob can shrug it off.

    “We can compare notes in the locker room,” Rob says. I’m fairly certain he’s kidding, but Noah laughs nervously, and even in the streetlight I can see his cheeks pinken .

    “I feel like such a slut,” I say, unable to keep the words from tumbling out, and I start laughing so hard I double over,