Perfect Specimen by Kate Donovan Page B

even interested in having sex with me anymore.” She made a wry face. “I’m not sure he ever really was. He just wanted to have children. He was getting older, and wanted to have a family. And so did I. So in that way, we were perfect for each other.”
    “He’s not interested in sex?” Mark murmured. “Just children? Sort of like the geneticist in your story?”
    She pretended to be shocked by the parallel. “I never thought of that. Art imitating life, right? Except my husband used to sleep with me. The aliens in the story evolved past sexual intercourse centuries ago.”
    Clay had fallen silent, and she knew that was a good sign. He was confused, which meant he would finally be willing to defer to his brother the expert. All she had to do was continue convincing Mark.
    “I guess I’d like some wine after all,” she told them, jumping to her feet and hurrying to the counter, where Mark had left an open bottle of sauvignon blanc. She poured herself a glass, knowing Ga’rag would disapprove, but also knowing it would help create the needed effect.
    Plus, it gave her a chance to refresh herself, one last time, on these final, crucial details. So she pretended to be distracted by something outside the window for a second. Then she steadied her nerves and returned to the brothers.
    “So here goes.” She gave them each an apologetic smile. “Even though sex isn’t an issue with Edward and me, I know I’ve got problems. Not just because my childhood was so unusual, but because there’s a history of mental illness in my family. On my mother’s side. I should have mentioned that this morning, I guess, but I didn’t really trust you yet.”
    “And now you do?”
    “Now I feel like I don’t have a choice. If Mom had problems, and now I do, well, what does that mean for my daughters? I don’t want to doom them to an unhappy life. So maybe it’s time I started working through some of this. Just like you were saying this morning. You mentioned a colleague that might have expertise in this area. If you’re still willing to refer me, I’d like to take you up on it.”
    Mark cleared his throat. “Edward won’t object?”
    “He wants me to be happy. And he cares about the girls. If this is what it takes to ensure their futures, he’ll go along with it.”
    Clay reached for her hand and squeezed it. “I know this was a tough decision, Sara. We’re proud of you. Right, Mark?”
    Mark nodded. “Tell us about your mom, Sara. But first, tell me how you knew about her illness.”
    “Dad told me.”
    “Interesting.” He pursed his lips. “You were only eleven years old when he died, weren’t you? That was a fairly heavy burden to lay on a child’s shoulders.”
    Sara stared down at the table again, knowing that this was going to be the roughest part of the lie. She was about to speak ill of the only person who had ever really loved her, and even though she told herself it didn’t matter what some strangers thought about her father, it still felt horribly wrong.
    She gripped Clay’s hand for strength, then embarked on the story she had concocted earlier that evening after doing some research on delusional disorders.
    “You’re so sure he abused me, but he wasn’t around enough to do that. He was always working, and I was always with babysitters or with my grandparents, who, by the way, hated me because they thought Mom ruined Dad’s life by having me. He was a broken man, Mark. Because of things that happened long before I was born.”
    Noting confusion in the psychologist’s eyes, she pushed forward. “My parents were pretty young when they got married. It was a storybook romance, or so I’m told. Then suddenly it fell apart. Mom became convinced Dad was having an affair. He claimed he wasn’t, and I guess I believe him because he used to sit and stare at their wedding picture, and he had tears in his eyes. But she was sure he was cheating. And then she got pregnant with me, and her suspicions got