don't think Ethan intended to make a profound or lofty statement. Nor do I think he was trying to offer any relationship counsel. Rather he seemed simply to be throwing out his offhanded two cents about the nature of true love. Essentially, he was just saying what we've all heard a million times—love conquers all.

So I'm not really sure why his words affected me. Maybe it was the fact that he wasn't giving me preachy advice. Maybe it was the parallel to his book—the recognition of art imitating life imitating art. Maybe it was the clarity of hearing something from a relatively random messenger, a player uninvested in your life, someone outside your inner circle.

All I know for sure is that Ethan's words cut straight to my heart and made me see my relationship with Ben in the least complicated, most stripped-down terms. I saw the bare essence of our breakup. The hard truth of the matter. I realized, almost in an instant, that I no longer bought all the propaganda about relationships ending because of bad timing and incompatibility and outside influences, like wanting or not wanting a baby. A baby is huge—it doesn't get much bigger than that—but so is religion and age and geography and being married to other people and feuding houses and so many other seemingly insurmountable factors that couples encounter and defeat when love is true.

So, right there in my office, I decide that as simplistic and naive as it may sound, I do believe that true love conquers all. Therefore, one of two things must also be true: either my relationship with Ben was not what I believed it to be, or our breakup was a big, horrible mistake.

It has to be one or the other.

I know where I'm coming out in the matter. I only hope Ben feels the same way.

Later that afternoon I call Daphne and ask her if I can come and spend the night.

"Sure!" she says. "Tony's going out with the guys, so it's perfect timing."

"Don't cook," I say. "We'll order a pizza, okay?"

"Papa John's?" she says hopefully.

Papa John's versus Domino's is a raging debate in her house, with a multiple-prong analysis—cheese, crust, sauce, delivery time, value for money.

"Perfect," I say, feeling a wave of affection for my sweet suburban sister.

I return to Jess's apartment and quickly pack an overnight bag. As I'm retrieving my toothbrush from the bathroom I hear the unmistakable, distinct sounds of my best friend having sex with an equally expressive, not-so-gentle man. There are few things as unsettling as hearing a close friend having sex (only slightly less disturbing than hearing your parents doing it). But what makes the symphony of groans more offensive is that I recall that Trey is in town. I am filled with something close to rage—at him for toying with her—but more at Jess for being so stupid. She damn well better be using a condom, I think, as I hurry out the door during a long, drawn-out moan.

About two hours later, I arrive at Daphne's and walk in her side door without knocking. She is sitting on the floor on a large throw pillow, grading tests in flannel pajamas and Snoopy slippers.

"Hey, there! Pizza just got here!" she says. "I got pepperoni. Hope that's okay?"

"Sure," I say.

I put down my bag and have a seat beside her, picking up a paper from the marked pile. It belongs to Annabel Partridge, who earned herself an A+ and a "Fine job" with three exclamation points and a smiley face.

"Wait," I say. "Isn't Annabel 'Bigghettobooty'?"

Daphne laughs and says, "Yup."

"Man. An A-plus with that sort of extracurricular activity… That really is an anomaly, huh?"

"Yeah," Daphne says, shaking her head. She flips to the bottom of the stack and produces Josh McCall's paper, covered with red marks, a big D, and a "You can do better" (with one exclamation point and a frowning face).

"Her guy?" I say.

"Uh-huh," she says, shaking her head and putting the stack of papers down. Then she clears her throat and says, "Look, Claudia, I know what you came here to tell me…"

"You do?" I say.

She nods and says, "You don't want to be our egg donor, do you?"

There is nothing accusatory or bitter in her words or expression. To the contrary, she looks as if she feels sorry for me. That she understands my decision completely—and even, in some small way, agrees with me.

I lean over and hug her. "I'm sorry," I say. "I just—I just can't do it."

"We figured as much," she says. "It's okay, Claudia. It really is."

"Can I explain?" I say.

"You don't have to."

"I want to."

"Is it just too weird for you?" she says.

I exhale and rub my eyes. "I guess that's part of it."

"Like you feel like you'd be having a baby with Tony?" she says, trying to smile.

"Well, maybe," I say. "Maybe a little…"

"I know," she says. "I think Tony felt that way, too. I didn't see it until he asked me how I'd feel if the tables were turned and we were using my egg and his brother Johnny's sperm. I was like, 'That's so not a fair comparison. Claudia's beautiful and brilliant, and Johnny's a mean-spirited fuckup who had a really low SAT score'… but I still got his point… And I certainly don't want to do something that you—or Tony—might regret. This is too important."

"Thank you for saying that about me, Daphne," I say. "That's really nice. Thank you."

"Well, you are," she says. "And I don't think you're selfish for this decision. I don't."

"Okay," I say, feeling even worse because of how understanding she's being. "I just… I feel like I'm really leaving you in the lurch. What are you guys going to do?"

"We have other options," she says. "We know we'll have a baby. And we're going to have the baby we're supposed to have. Whatever baby we end up having will be the right baby. Our baby. And we know that we'll hold that child and think, 'If our journey had been easy, we wouldn't have you.'"

"That is so true," I say, feeling incredibly proud of my sister. I ask her if they're considering adoption.

"Yeah," she says. "We started researching some domestic adoption agencies this week… And my friend Beth just returned from China with the most beautiful little girl… and we're also looking into this really cool program called Snowflake. Have you heard of it?"

I shake my head.

She explains that it's a program where a couple can adopt an embryo remaining after the genetic parents have a baby through in-vitro fertilization. "It's sort of a controversial Christian organization," she says.

"Why is it controversial?"

"Oh, I don't know. I guess because these parents essentially believe that the embryos are children. Which is why they call it 'adoption' and not 'donation'… But Tony and I don't really care what they call it."

I say, "Well, that sounds like a great option… And then you could still experience pregnancy and childbirth."

"Yeah," she says. "For some reason, carrying the baby is more important to me than the DNA… So we're really optimistic and excited about moving forward, somehow."

"I'm glad, Daphne. Thank you for understanding." Then I hesitate, knowing that there is no taking back what I'm about to say next. But I want Daphne to be the first to know.

"What?" Daphne says.

"Well… I… I just wanted to tell you there's sort of another reason I didn't feel right about being your egg donor…"

"What's that?" she says.

"Well, I think… I think maybe I should have a baby of my own, after all."

She stares at me, her mouth dropping open. "You want a baby?"

"I want Ben."

"So, what? Are you guys getting back together?"

"I don't know," I say. "But it's all I want."

"And then you'd have a baby?" she says.

"If that's what it takes," I say. "I'll do whatever it takes to get Ben back."