As I sit across from my best friend of twenty six years I can't help but flush as I admit to him my biggest secret, "I want a baby." I'm mumbling, drunk and unable to even make eye contact with him. He doesn't respond and at first I wonder if it's because it's so loud in this dingy bar and then I think he must think I'm crazy. That's exactly how I feel, with all of my friends having kids and my biological clock quickly ticking away even the sight of a onesie or diaper duty puts me to tears.

"I'm thirty two!" I continue, watching as he stares at me with bug eyes. He quickly takes a sip of his drink, which I imitate as well, taking a large chug of my vodka tonic. "thirty two years old and I can't find any sort of a decent man around this town!" I exclaim, trying to convince both him and myself that this is truth. "Which leads me to the next thing I want to tell you and as my best friend I need your 100% support!"

"Spencer!" He finally interjects, placing his hand firmly on my bare thigh, smacking it lightly "Just spit it out already." I take a moment to readjust my skirt; it has a habit of inching its way up my thigh, which in itself is a mating call!

"I'm going to get a sperm donor!" I say finally, looking up at him.

"You're going to have a turkey baster baby?" He raises his eyebrow, moving his ring clad hand to his hair, pushing it behind his ear.

"Well, when you put it that way." I move quickly, punching his shoulder. He laughs and I continue, "It's not as bad as it sounds Jackson! I can afford it and my clock is ticking away as we speak. Plus, I don't want to wait until I'm forty and then maybe I can have one! I don't want to be the old mom!" I'm practically squealing now, "And this way I won't have to do it by throwing myself at one of these fuckers and then hope he comes around!"

"Alright, calm down little turkey." He laughs throwing an arm over my shoulder, "Whatever you wanna do, you have my support." I smile at this, barely even noticing his hand resting on my collarbone. I'm wearing a white crop top, probably one of the last times my stomach will ever be able to be okay enough to show, his fingers play gently with the collar. Some might think it's weird, but that's us. We have always been pretty touchy feely, it's a comfort thing probably but when you've known somebody for this long it's hardly strange. he's my best friend, he's seen more of me than anyone else in every sense of the word.

He orders a round of shots, "To the baster baby." He laughs, raising his glass.

The burn of fireball runs down my throat, goose bumps covering my arms as I swallow. Shots have never been my thing, but tonight we celebrate. I probably won't have many more moments like these so I'll cherish this while I can.

My eyes fall to Jackson, he has a cigarette hanging from his lips. He's staring at me like a weirdo, "What?" I finally say.

"You really think its okay for the kid not to have a dad?" He jabs his cigarette out.

"It'll have me, that's enough. Right?" I raise an eyebrow at him.

"You and I both know you need a dad." When he says that my heart drops, it's been years since I've seen my father. Sixteen to be exact. My dad died when I was barely out of puberty and with my junkie of a mother I was pretty much on my own, at least until Gemma stepped in. She raised me practically as her own, giving me a room of my own in their home, taking me prom shopping, even getting me birth control. She really did it all when my dad died. Just thinking about him brings tears to my eyes, I feel Jackson's hand on my shoulder squeezing gently.

"I'm sorry, Spence. I didn't mean to bring it up." He moves his hand away from me and reaches into his cut for another cigarette, this time he offers it to me.

I take it, lighting it quickly. I think the most i will miss is these.

I wipe my cheek with my free hand, making sure to wipe any excess make up away. "No sappy shit." I mumble, taking a sip of my vodka.

"What if I was your donor?" Jackson finally says, taking the cigarette from my hand. He puffs it quickly, "I could be a dad, help you out and shit."

"I don't exactly see you on diaper duty." is all I can muster, choking on my drink. I don't mean to but I laugh.

"Look Spence, we've been through everything together." He runs his free hand through his hair, " And why spend all that money fake toasting your baby?"

"So really, what you're saying is you want to have sex with me." I roll my eyes at him, nudging his ribs.

"Well, no." He stops himself, "I mean yes, no, shit." A brush of frustration comes over his face, eyebrows furrowing. "I mean you're gorgeous, not that the thought has crossed my mind." He begins to ramble, "All I'm saying is between your red hair and my blonde hair, your green eyes and my blue eyes... my normal height and well your midget height, and my nose that you adore so much... We could have a pretty cute kid."

I sit there for a moment, trying to gather my thoughts. He must have lost his damn mind.

"Plus once you board this anaconda you won't ever wanna get off." When he says this I can't hold it in anymore, I literally spit my vodka onto the counter top, laughing.

"You're right, I'd never get off cause you're so gross." I laugh, covering my mouth this time.

"Fine. Laugh it up, toast your baby with the ghost sperm if you want. all I'm saying is I could be a pretty good dad." He does have a point, but I try to shrug it off.

I excuse myself after a moment, planting my Louboutin on the ground, moving slowly through the crowd to the bathroom.

It isn't until I'm in the stall that I realize how drunk I am, I rest my head on the side of the wall, suddenly not caring about germs. I keep thinking of Jackson's offer and how horrible of an idea that is but part of me is tempted. Not because Jackson is sexy or because I have wanted to jump his bones for the last sixteen years but because he would truly make an amazing dad and he's my best friend. My best friend would never hurt me or try and take my baby from me; he could teach him how to play baseball or how to mend her broken heart. I sigh loudly as somebody knocks on the door, interrupting my thoughts. "Spencer, let me in." I roll my eyes, why the hell is Jackson trying to get in the women's room?

"Come on, Ima won't leave me the fuck alone." He hollers over, the music. I get up to open the door, returning to the sink to wash my hands. I stare drunkenly at myself and then at him through the mirror, watching as he locks the door to the bathroom.

"What don't wanna play with your little girlfriend tonight?" I giggle, turning the sink off. He hops onto the counter, drumming his hands on his lap.

"Nah, I want her to get the fuckin' picture." He laughs, staring at me oddly.

"What?" I furrow my eyebrows, turning from to him to look back at myself in the mirror. I fix the eyeliner that's slightly smudged underneath my eyes.

"Nothing, Lets blow this joint." He replies, jumping down from the counter. He pulls me by the arm out of the bathroom, passing Ima as we make are way to the exit. "Clubhouse?" He asks me, not letting go of my arm.

You should see the look on her face, priceless. I smile at her as we pass by, waving her a goodbye. When we finally make it outside Jackson drops my arm, he opens the passenger door of his Suburban for me.

"Why thank you fine gentleman." I mock an English accent, laughing at him as his bows to me.

"My lady." He says back, bowing again.

"My lord." My accent is horrible but somehow it sends us both into a fit of laughter.

When we're both in the car he lights a cigarette, offering me one as well. I take it, rolling my window down quickly as he begins to drive. I know it's not the smartest move on our part to be driving but he doesn't seem nearly as drunk as I am.

We ride in silence for a few minutes, my mind going back to this baby that doesn't even exist yet. The more I think about it the more I'm certain that Jackson would be a good father but that would screw up our friendship, right?

Before I can stop myself the words come out, "Okay, so…" I scratch my scalp awkwardly, looking out the window as I speak to him. "How about this?"

"What are you talking about?"

"The whole fertility thing would be super expensive and I'd much rather spend the money on fixing up my house and buying baby shit. So…" I stop myself for a moment wondering if I should continue. I can feel his eyes on me as the car comes to a stop at Teller-Morrow. "How about this? We try once and if I get pregnant cool, if not I'll have a turkey baster baby on my own."

"I'm not sure I follow." He flicks his cigarette out, "Look at me." His voice is stern now. I turn to look at him, he's got his hands on his knees. The car is off and the only thing I can hear is the sound of distant chattering, there must be a party going on inside.

"What I'm saying is, we have sex... once. If I get pregnant – great. If not I'll do it my way. On my own. If it's meant to be it'll be. And it will be my baby, you can help me raise him or her if you'd like but no drama. I won't expect anything from you except your continued friendship and you won't fall hopelessly in love with me." I laugh at the last part; I must sound like a crazy person.

"More like you better not fall in love with me, Darlin'." He grins at me, "You know I'd do anything for you, Spence. If this is what'll make you happy you can count me in."

"Okay."

"So what's next?" He asks, leaning over to unbuckle my seatbelt. He leans over me, pressing his body weight on top of me to push my door open, I suddenly feel rather courageous.

"The fun part." I whisper, grabbing him by the back of the head. I'm so thankful for the alcohol running through me right now. I push his face closer to mine; we're centimeters from touching lips. "This is going to be so awkward." I laugh before finally pushing his lips against mine.