The Surrogate’s Gift

by Davis, L. G.

  The Surrogate’s Gift

  L.G. Davis

  Copyright © 2021 by L.G. Davis

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Editing: Emily Einolander

  Proofreading: Mystique Editing

  Cover: The Cover Collection

  Book Description

  Her one good deed is about to turn into her worst nightmare.

  Becoming a surrogate for Marcia and Travis Thorpe is Grace’s chance to overcome her inner demons.

  Nothing can go wrong. Her life depends on it.

  Determined to focus on the pregnancy, she drops everything and accepts the Thorpes’ offer to move in with them until the baby is born.

  A simple decision. One big mistake.

  Marcia, her husband, and Marcia’s bitter mother are obsessed with watching Grace. The future parents also control what she eats, where she goes, and even when she goes to bed.

  Just when Grace thinks it can’t get any worse, she finds a note on the doorstep of the guesthouse.

  You’re making a mistake. This won’t end well.

  The closer she gets to her due date, the more she believes the words on that piece of paper.

  Someone in the Thorpe household is keeping deadly secrets, and her life and that of the baby might be in danger. How much is she willing to risk to save them both?

  This intense and emotional domestic thriller novel is a page-turner with a shocking twist you won’t see coming.

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Epilogue

  Connect with L.G. Davis

  Also by L.G. Davis

  Prologue

  They say looks can be deceiving. True words.

  At first sight, any object can look safe, but in the wrong hands, and with a little imagination and skill, the person holding it can turn it into a deadly weapon.

  I hold the pencil in front of me, turning it around and around between my forefinger and thumb. If I wanted to escape this musty cell, I could. Maybe not in a living, breathing body, but definitely in spirit. I certainly wouldn’t miss the smells of metal and sweat.

  Most of my days are spent sitting on my bunk bed, rocking back and forth, arms tight around my body as if I'm wearing a straitjacket. The guards and other prisoners consider me to be mentally ill. Maybe I am. Maybe I'm not.

  Since the day I arrived in this place, aside from a nod here and a shake of the head there, I haven't spoken to anyone. Why waste my voice when I can get the message across just fine without uttering a single word?

  But today is the day I say more, not to them, but to the only person who deserves to hear my truth.

  I press the blunt tip of the pencil to the page and force myself to finish the letter I started writing an hour ago.

  * * *

  I’m guilty as charged, and I belong behind bars for murder. Do I regret what I did? I wish I could say no, but I’d be lying.

  One

  Marcia Thorpe is sitting at a table by herself, leafing through the restaurant menu, unaware that I’m watching her.

  What if she’s here to tell me in person they’re not interested?

  No way.

  Her body language is not that of someone who’s about to deliver unpleasant news. She looks relaxed and confident—posture perfect, long legs crossed under the table, chin tilted upward.

  She’s not eyeing the door, chewing her nails, or drinking endless cups of coffee to calm her nerves.

  She has no reason to be nervous, though. She’s the one accepting or rejecting my offer.

  I swallow, but my throat sticks together, and sweat trickles from my forehead into my right eye. I press the back of my hand to my forehead and drag it toward my temple, taking the sweat with it.

  I can’t go in there looking like a wreck, so I slip unnoticed into the restaurant and hurry to the ladies’ room. Surrounded by marble and glass, I splash cool water on my face and do my best to cover up the dark bags under my ash gray eyes with my trusted concealer. The telltale signs of stress, crying, and lack of sleep have got to go.

  Three weeks. That’s how long they have made me wait for an answer. I guess it’s to be expected. It’s not a decision one takes lightly.

  What Travis and Marcia Thorpe don’t know is that I want this as much as they do, maybe more. I’d go as far as saying it’s a matter of life and death, but I can’t tell them that. Desperation repels.

  After the creamy concealer has done its job and the mascara has thickened and lengthened my eyelashes, I sweep back my bone straight, blue-black hair into a ponytail at the nape of my neck.

  Hoping I’m presentable enough, I step out of the ladies’ room, dressed in an invisible cloak of false confidence. It’s my disguise, preventing selected individuals from seeing who I really am: an empty shell. A snail dried out by the sun until there’s nothing left.

  The news I receive today will either save me or break me.

  It can’t be a good sign that Marcia’s husband is not here. Wouldn’t they want to share the big news together?

  I’ve only met him once, when Marcia invited me to dinner at their home in Wellice, a seven-hour drive from Miami.

  Marcia’s the one I spent the most time with, both online and in person, when I visited Wellice five months ago, or when she came to Miami for a photo shoot. She happens to be the face of MereLux & Co., a multinational company owned by her family.

  When she sees me, her face lights up and she gets to her feet, but I notice a slight waver in her smile. From a distance, I thought she looked confident, but she’s wearing the same cloak of false confidence I’m wearing.

  She looks different from the last time I saw her. She’s lost too much weight in too short an amount of time, and her tall frame is like a coatrack. Then again, as a model, maybe it could be the look she’s going for.

  “Hi, Grace,” she says, air kissing me on both cheeks.

  When she pulls away, I see it up close—the deep, dark pain swirling in the depths of her jade green eyes. I’ve seen that pain before, many times. It’s the same pain that led to us crossing paths.

  It’s up to me to make her pain melt away. All I need is her permission.

  “Where’s your husband?” I ask as I lower myself onto a padded chair.

  Marcia sits back down. “Travis is upstairs. He had a call to make. He should be down shortly.” She picks up the menu again. “While we wait for him, why don’t you order yourself something to eat? I hope you haven’t had breakfast already.”

  “Actually, I did.” It’s a lie. Until I know what Travis and Marcia have decided, I’ll be too anx
ious to keep any food down.

  “Okay,” Marcia says. “I do hope it’s not too early for champagne.”

  That’s when I notice it, the chilling bottle of Dom Perignon in a sweating silver bucket.

  A pulse throbs at the base of my throat, followed by a thrill that surges through my body.

  “What are we celebrating?” I ask. I don’t want to get ahead of myself. It could be they’re celebrating a business success and wish to share it with me. We have formed an unlikely friendship over the past weeks and months.

  Marcia sets her palms flat on the table and leans forward. “Well, I was going to wait until Travis joins us, but I’m not a patient person.”

  This is it, the moment I’ve been waiting for. I’ve put in the work, now it’s time for the reward.

  “Have you decided?” I sit up straighter, put both my hands on my knees, and hold on to them as I wait for Marcia to tell me what I want to hear.

  “We have decided,” she says with a smile. “Grace, we want you to be our surrogate.”

  I don’t respond right away. Instead, I lift the glass of water from the place setting in front of me. I take three big gulps.

  Now that it’s happening, I’m not sure how to feel. Excited? Scared? It’s the same feeling I get when I’m about to get on a rollercoaster.

  “What do you say?” She leans back and chews a corner of her lip. “Please don’t say you changed your mind. Sorry we made you wait, but this is a big decision.”

  “No.” I blink away tears. “I didn’t change my mind. I just… This is great news.”

  This news could change everything. If I go through with this, my life will never be the same again. Being a surrogate has the power to positively and negatively impact me.

  “That’s absolutely wonderful.” Marcia dabs at her eyes with a napkin before squeezing my hands tight. I can’t tell if both our palms are sweating or just mine.

  “I was so scared that you might decide it’s not for you, after all.” She pauses. “Are you sure you want to do it for free? We have a huge budget set aside, you know.”

  I smile and nod to reassure her. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  She studies my face for a few seconds, then she sweeps her butterscotch bangs aside. “I still don’t understand. Why would you want to do this for us…total strangers?”

  “We’re not strangers, Marcia,” I say. “I like to think we’re friends.”

  I understand her confusion. We’ve only known each other for a few months. People who have known each other for years don’t often do this kind of thing for each other, even family.

  “Friends,” she repeats. “Yes, I like that. That’s what we are. It’s strange, but I feel like I have known you forever.”

  “Let me guess,” a deep voice says from behind me. “You’ve already told her, haven’t you?”

  I turn to see Marcia’s husband, Travis, arriving at our table in slacks and a black polo shirt. He’s a handsome man, in a rugged kind of way, with a chiseled jawline, sleepy, denim blue eyes, and sandy blond hair that’s the right kind of messy. I’d place him in his early forties, at least five years older than Marcia.

  When I saw him for the first time, my jaw dropped, and I could barely get the words out.

  Marcia clears her throat and I snap back to reality.

  Even though I can look at handsome men, they are not a part of my plans right now. There’s only one thing I want, one goal I want to achieve. I want to give Marcia and Travis a baby.

  Travis shakes my hand and kisses his wife on the forehead before sitting down.

  Did Marcia just flinch? No. That’s ridiculous.

  Travis turns to me again, narrowing his eyes. “Grace, I have to ask. Why are you doing this for us?”

  I guess I will have to get used to answering that question.

  I shrug and return his smile. “I like making people happy.”

  He nods, then folds his arms on the table. “Marcia mentioned that you haven’t done this sort of thing before.”

  I stiffen. “No, but I’m registered with several Florida-based surrogacy agencies.”

  “And they didn’t find you a lucky couple?”

  “There were a few interested people, but I’m picky. I wanted a couple I was drawn to.” I rub my hands on my thighs. “I also like the idea of doing it for friends.”

  “Friends.” The word hangs in the air between us. “You’ve only known each other for—”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Marcia cuts in. “Time doesn’t matter, Travis. What matters is now. Grace is ready to do this wonderful thing for us.”

  “Sorry if I made you uncomfortable, Grace,” Travis says. “What I meant to say is that we are excited about this.”

  “We’ve wanted a baby for some time,” Marcia adds, tears clinging to her eyelashes like early morning dewdrops. “I feel like such a failure, but—”

  “You don’t have to feel that way.” I place my hands on the table, one on top of the other. “Asking for help is not a weakness.”

  I rehearsed the words so often in my mind that they slide off my tongue with ease.

  “Thank you, Grace.” Like his wife did before, Travis takes my hand in his. He has soft hands for a man, definitely softer than mine will ever be, no matter how many creams I use.

  “You’re welcome.” I pick up my glass of water and drink. “I do think you should stop thanking me. We still have a long road ahead of us.”

  “But this is a huge first step,” Travis says. “I just know it will go well.”

  “Honey,” Marcia scolds, “don’t put pressure on her.”

  That’s exactly what he’s doing. What if I don’t deliver? What if I give them hope and end up taking it away?

  No, I choose to believe that this was meant to be. It will happen. It has to.

  “Let’s believe everything will work out fine,” I say to Travis, who’s still staring at me through a hooded gaze.

  “You are aware that this is going to be a traditional surrogacy, right?”

  “Yes, Marcia and I talked about it.”

  She cried when she told me that if we decide to do it, they would have to use my eggs instead of hers. I don’t have a problem with it. It still won’t be my baby. Once the baby is born, she will obtain a pre-birth parentage order that will allow her name to be on their child’s birth certificate.

  “How old are you again?” Travis again with the endless questions.

  “I’m thirty-three,” I say, averting my gaze.

  “And you don’t want a family of your own?”

  “Of course. Of course I do. But not yet.”

  “I’m sure you realize how much you’re sacrificing.” He pauses. “We want you to know what you’re getting yourself into, that’s all.”

  I raise my gaze to his face again. I want him to believe every word I’m saying. “Yes, I’m well aware. I want to do this for you.”

  “I’m sorry again for making you uncomfortable. This is a big deal for me. I’ve always wanted to be a father.” His hand brushes against mine. I grab a napkin to move away from his touch.

  For me.

  Something about those two words doesn’t sit right with me, but I brush it off.

  When I look at Marcia, she’s smiling. I wish I could pull her into a hug, to suck up the joy she’s exuding right now in the hope that it would melt away the darkness inside me.

  “What are the next steps?” I ask her.

  “We’ve already spoken to our lawyers. They’re ready to draw up the papers. Of course, you will go through several tests.”

  “I fully understand. I’m ready for it all.”

  “Good.” She pulls the champagne bottle from the bucket and hands it to Travis, her eyes still on me. “Grace, you won’t have to do this alone. We’ll be by your side every step of the way.”

  I don’t know how they plan on doing that, but whatever they can do to help won’t hurt, I guess.

  The only thing left to do is to celebrate,
and we do exactly that, with the entire bottle of champagne.

  Marcia tries again to convince me to have breakfast with them, but I decline.

  “I’m meeting up with a friend. But let’s keep in touch. Whatever you need from me, let me know.” I stand up to leave.

  Half an hour later, my best friend, Sydney Rivers, is standing in front of me at our favorite steakhouse in downtown Miami, near my studio apartment.

  “You look happy.” She drops her cellphone into her crystal beaded handbag.

  Sydney is a handbag kind of girl, and when she’s not selling houses, she’s on the hunt for the next piece to add to her collection.

  “Maybe that’s because I am happy.” I beam at her. I haven’t said those words to anyone in quite some time.

  The handle of her bag slides to the crook of her elbow as she gathers her afro into a puff on top of her head with the help of an elastic band around her wrist. “Did something amazing happen?”

  “That’s right,” I say, walking into the restaurant. “I got some exciting news today.”

  We’re seated at a table next to a colorful photo display featuring regular customers, including one of us.

  “If anyone deserves good news, it’s you, Grace Cooper,” Sydney says. “Care to share it?”

  “Let’s order first.”

  I need a delay before I break the news to her. I might not get the reaction I’m hoping for.

  We make small talk until a waiter brings us our usual steak and eggs.

  Sydney watches me over her food as we eat in silence. I have a feeling she’s nervous about what I’m about to say. That’s why she’s hesitant to bring it up again. Instead, she asks me about work.