Rainy Day Sisters by Kate Hewitt

with the same utilitarian furniture as the waiting room.
    The man rounded the desk, gesturing to one of two chairs in front of it. Juliet sat down, glancing at the empty chair next to her, and felt more alone than she wanted to in this moment.
    â€œSo. I’m Dr. Allen.” He folded his hands on the desk and gave her a smile that felt cringingly compassionate. She wished he were wearing one of those white lab coats, something to give him a little distance. “You’re here today for a preliminary consultation about fertility options?”
    â€œYes.” Her voice emerged as a croak, but clearing her throat felt too revealing. Her gaze moved to the window and she looked out at the square patch of pewter sky, unable to bear looking at Dr. Allen’s face again. Coming here had been a mistake, a moment’s idiocy.
    â€œLet me just look through your medical history,” Dr. Allen murmured, and she heard the rustle of the pages she’d painstakingly filled out and handed to him. She kept staring out the window. “I see you’re interested in an IUI with donor sperm,” he said after a moment, and Juliet nodded, forcing her gaze back to Dr. Allen. “I also see that you’ve indicated on your medical history that you have only one functioning Fallopian tube.”
    â€œYes.” Her throat had gone tight and her hands were clenched in her lap; she was sitting so rigidly she knew he must see and feel her tension. “I had an ectopic pregnancy eleven years ago.”
    â€œAnd it burst, causing damage to the tube?” Wordlessly she nodded and Dr. Allen glanced back down at her notes. “And you’ve also suffered from endometriosis?”
    â€œYes.”
    He took off his glasses and gave her a smile of such genuine sympathy that Juliet wanted to slap him. “I have to tell you, Miss Bagshaw, that IUI might be difficult for you.” She didn’t say anything, didn’t think she could, and he continued in that same kindly tone. “With your medical history, implantation of an embryo would be challenging. Of course, we’d do a full physical and fertility assessment first, and I should let you know that counseling is required when using donor sperm. Would you be using the sperm of an acquaintance, or would you prefer to go through a sperm bank?”
    Juliet stared at him blankly.
Of an acquaintance?
Who on earth could she ask to give her some sperm? “A bank,” she said, and Dr. Allen nodded.
    â€œThen you should know that you would, in all likelihood, have to go through another country. The United Kingdom has very few sperm donors on register. Most people use a bank in the United States or Denmark, which have the largest number of donors. But it can be expensive.”
    Juliet’s jaw bunched even more tightly. “I see.”
    He cocked his head, his gaze sweeping over her. Juliet didn’t like to think about what he saw. “Perhaps,” he said, his voice so very gentle, “this is something you need to think about for a little while.”
    Five minutes later she was back out in the parking lot, the rain spitting down, her car keys clenched in one hand, cutting into her palm. She’d envisioned the appointment taking most of the morning, not just ten minutes, although granted, that had been long enough. But some naive part of her had vaguely imagined coming out of the clinic with a plan, a promise. Maybe even a pregnancy.
    She was utterly hopeless. What on earth had she been thinking, making that appointment? What would everyone in Hartley-by-the-Sea have said when she was suddenly pregnant? Not that it was even likely she could get pregnant. She’d known going in that it was a remote possibility, and yet still she’d hoped. She’d clung to the possibility because at least it had been
something
.
    The rain was coming down harder now, stinging her face, and Juliet got back into her car. She didn’t want to go