by Emerson Rose
“Where are we?”
“Your house, unfortunately.”
“Wait, how did—where’s Kit? What time is it?”
She’s fumbling for her phone in her purse.
“It’s three a.m., and don’t bother. Your phone died a couple of hours ago.”
I unlock the door with the hand that’s under her knees and push it open. I set her down, and she immediately kicks off her shoes and turns on a lamp. I’m surprised at how nice the place is inside. It’s like we stepped into a totally different building. The paint is fresh and light, her furniture is bright and playful, and everything is very neat and clean.
“I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened. I’ve never passed out like that before. Why didn’t Kit bring me home?”
“I wanted to be sure you were safe, and judging from this neighborhood, it’s a good thing. Why on earth do you live here?”
She drops onto the couch and rests her head back on the cushion.
“Why do you think, Liam? I’m a single mother trying to get through college. It’s what I can afford, and we’re hardly ever here anyway. My sister lives in Lakewood. Her husband is a lawyer, and they have a very nice home. She has a daughter the same age as Toby, so they play a lot. We just moved here a couple of months ago. I came home after my first year at Berkeley because I didn’t think I was going to be able to afford to go back for a while.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you defensive. It’s just that I’d like to help you find someplace in a better neighborhood.”
She looks up at me and shakes her head back and forth.
“Oh, no. I haven’t agreed to have your baby yet. I really need to think about this, and now that we have feelings for each other, it’s even more complicated.”
I close the door and notice that she has three locks. Good. At least she’s not ignorant to the fact that she lives in a semi-dangerous area. I lock them all and move to the couch, where I gesture to the spot next to her. She nods, and I join her. The couch is bright red and very comfortable. It’s not cheap furniture. She must work hard to provide nice things for her son.
“Actually, I need to talk to you about that. Amira texted me tonight. Her father isn’t doing well, and she has to stay a while to sort things out. She doesn’t want to wait until she comes home to do in vitro. She wants us to do artificial insemination instead, and she wants you to carry the child. Please don’t make up your mind until I have a chance to make an offer you can’t refuse.”
Her tiny frown line forms between her eyes and she begins to rub her temples. Early hangovers suck. I get up and go to the tiny galley kitchen and open the fridge to get her a bottle of water. She has the entire refrigerator organized like someone with OCD, and everything in here is organic and kid-friendly. Rows of chopped vegetables in color-coded plastic containers line two shelves, the crisper drawer is packed with fruit, and natural juices and soymilk fill the top shelf. She’s a good mother—better than good. She’s an awesome mother.
Growing up, our fridge was bare about fifty percent of the time, and when my mom could afford to shop, it was all processed foods that could last for years without spoiling. I lived on Pop Tarts and Coke during my elementary school years. It’s amazing I learned anything.
When I return to the couch, She’s sitting on the edge with her head in her hands. I touch her shoulder with the cold bottle and she shudders.
“Here, drink this. Do you have any ibuprofen? You’ve probably already got a hangover.”
“I don’t remember drinking that much.” She says, taking the water.
“You had three martinis, unless you had more when I wasn’t looking, which wasn’t ever, so you had three martinis.”
“You were watching me drink?”
“I was watching you do everything. Ibuprofen?”
“Oh, uh, in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom, but you don’t have to—”
I’m already on my way down the short hall toward what can only be the bathroom. There are three open doors to three small rooms. One is dark. The other is Toby’s. The red glow of a racecar nightlight shines against the wall just inside the door. And another nightlight glows in the bathroom. Someone must not be fond of the dark.
I find the bottle easily in her ultra-organized cupboard and take her the pills. When she’s swallowed them, I sit down with her again.
“I want to pay for your education. All of it, undergraduate and law school. And I want to buy you a house in Berkeley so you and Toby have a permanent home. I’ll still pay you what the agency suggests for being a surrogate, of course, but I want to help you more than that. That money will only pay for a semester, and then what? You can’t have a baby every year to pay tuition.”
She’s so still that I actually worry something may be wrong for a moment, but then she starts to cry. Not the reaction I was looking for at all.
“Lourdes? Hey, what’s the matter?” I say, reaching out and pulling her against my side. She buries her face against my chest and sobs while I stroke her back, trying to console her.
“Don’t cry. Come on, now. Tell me what’s wrong.”
“I—you don’t—oh, Liam, you don’t know how hard it is for me to say no to all that. You just offered to give me everything I’ve ever dreamed of on a silver platter, but I can’t accept it. It’s too much.”
“The hell if you can’t. It’s not charity, Lourdes. It’s in exchange for being our surrogate. It’s a way out for both of us. You can get the hell out of this neighborhood and give Toby the life you’ve always wanted for him, and I can get out of my miserable scam of a marriage. You have to do it. It will be neglect on your behalf if you don’t. Toby needs a safe home. Hell, you need a safe home.”
She sniffles and sits up, leaving my arms aching for her. I don’t want her to cry, but I miss her warmth the second her skin is no longer touching mine.
“Neglect?” she says, looking around the room. “You think this is neglect? I work really hard to give Toby everything he needs. He has a roof over his head, good food, books, toys, and most importantly, love.”
She reaches behind her for a box of tissue and blows her nose. I must be falling for this woman, because I’ve never seen a woman look so adorable blowing her nose.
“I didn’t mean you don’t provide for him. But you have to bust your ass to do it don’t you? I’m offering you the opportunity to spend more time with Toby and less time working. I’m offering you time, Lourdes, time to study and be a mother.”
She lowers her eyes to the floor, and I reach out and lay my hand on her knee.
“Think about it, please. Now let’s get you to bed. I want to meet Toby tomorrow, and you’re going to need your rest.”
She snaps her eyes back to mine.
“You want to meet Toby?”
I cock my head to the side and lean forward.
“Lourdes, I told you. You’re going to be mine sooner or later, and you’re a package deal, right?”
Her mouth hangs open and she nods.
“Well then, I need to meet him.” I squeeze her knee and stand, taking her hand to help her up.
“No more talking. It’s time for bed.” I lead her to the bathroom, where I sit her on the closed toilet and rummage around for something to use to take her makeup off. When I find a package of wipes, I squat in front of her and carefully wipe off what’s left of her lip-gloss and makeup. She has false eyelashes. I’ve never removed anyone’s lashes, so I let her do that herself. When the two furry caterpillars are lying on the counter, she closes her eyes and I wipe the shadow and mascara off.
When I’m finished, I’m amazed that she still looks like an angel, just more innocent and less vixen. I toss the wipes in the trash next to the toilet and take her face in my hands. Her eyes are still closed and her lips are parted. Like magnets, we lean toward each other until our foreheads are touching. The heat from her body and her warm breath seep into my skin as I stroke my thumbs over her cheeks.
“I’ve nev
er wanted to kiss a woman more than I want to kiss you right now, Lourdes. But I won’t, because technically I’m married, and I want our first kiss to be honest and pure and free of guilt.”
Her body slumps against me and she sighs before opening her eyes. We are so close. I can see every fleck of amber in her deep brown eyes, and her skin is flawless and glowing. Hung over Lourdes is just as lovely as everyday Lourdes. Amazing.
I pick her up and carry her to her room, where I stand her next to her bed and pull back the comforter. With only the light from the hall, she is just a silhouette, a gorgeous, curvy silhouette. I turn her stiff body to face the bed and begin to slowly unzip her dress, trailing a finger behind the opening the zipper makes. I can’t help it. I know I shouldn’t, but a man can only be so good, and I’m hanging over the edge, balancing on one toe.
She sucks in a breath while I push the dress off her shoulders and watch it fall into a pool at her feet. My hands are on her shoulders. I look at the floor, the dress, and her pretty feet—anything but her perfect backside. I take several cleansing breaths before releasing her, and I hold up the comforter for her.
The sooner she’s covered the better. I have to get out of here before I strip down and join her.
She pulls the covers up under her chin, biting her lip, and I trail a finger along the side of her lovely heart-shaped face and grip her chin, pulling her lip from her teeth.
“You’re going to be mine,” I say, narrowing my eyes so she knows I’m dead serious.
The corners of her mouth lift in the smallest smile.
“Sooner or later,” she says.
I release her and back out of the room, leaving the door open in case it’s her, and not Toby, who is afraid of the dark. When I’m face to face with the three locks on her door, I decide to check all the windows before I leave.
Every window in the living room is locked with an additional security lock, as well as Toby’s windows. I check on Lourdes again. She is already asleep and her windows are locked as well. Thank God she’s careful.
I’m only able to lock two of her door locks when I leave because she is sleeping, and one needs locking from her side, but the two she has look strong enough. Back in my car, I sit and stare at her door. I hate leaving her in this neighborhood. I hate leaving her at all.
Chapter 18
Lourdes
Hangovers aren’t anything I’ve experienced often, maybe once or twice, and as far as this one goes, I’m considering it mild. I’m sure Liam has a lot to do with that. He stopped me from drinking any more and made me drink water, nap, drink more water and take ibuprofen. I wonder if he’s that attentive with everyone or just me. I can’t imagine Amira letting anyone take care of her, so he probably doesn’t get much of a chance to do nice things for her.
Lying here in bed, listening to the cars wiz by outside and the birds chirping, I have a million thoughts swirling around in my brain: Liam’s offer to pay for school and buy us a house, having his baby for him and Amira, the tender way he helped me get ready for bed, and the fact that he never stepped over the line.
I roll my eyes toward the ceiling, and it hurts. Part of me wishes more than anything that he would have stepped over the line. I’ve never wanted a man more. I could be set for life if I accepted his offer—no student loans, no mortgage, just school, studying and time with Toby.
I can’t believe Amira wants him to do artificial insemination. The baby wouldn’t be hers biologically at all. It would be Liam’s and mine. Is that what he’s counting on? That Amira will use the baby as leverage with her father and abandon it so we can live happily ever after? I hardly know this man. I am fiercely attracted to him, but I can’t start planning a future with him based on two encounters. The thought is outlandish.
His words from last night roll through my mind like a song on repeat. Sooner or later, you will be mine. He seems so sure, so confident, like he knows I’ll accept his offer and we will live happily ever after. Wouldn’t that be nice? Yeah, life doesn’t work that way. Nobody, especially me, gets a perfect happily ever after. I need to talk to Rachel, I need my baby, and I need to get up.
I sit up in bed and try to catch my breath, and I’m dizzy. Even after the water, I must be dehydrated. Note to self: don’t drink more than one martini again. Ever. When I’m able to take a regular breath, I drag myself out of bed and into the shower. The package of baby wipes is still on the counter where Liam left them last night. I love his tender yet take-charge attitude. He makes me feel cared for and safe all at once. I smile and put the wipes back under the sink and take a shower. When I’m finished, I already feel like I need a nap, but I push through and drive to my sister’s house to get Toby.
When I walk through the door, my knees are attacked by a small yet mighty green hulk. I bend down to look him over, head to toe.
“Where’s Toby? You’re the hulk, aren’t you?” I ask.
“I hulk grrrrrrr!” Toby growls with his hands clenched into fists at his sides.
Rachel enters the room with Ivy, who is dressed up in a Snow White costume with a black wig.
“Did I miss something? I thought Halloween wasn’t for a few months.”
“They wanted to dress up,” Rachel says, shrugging her shoulders. “You sorta look like hell. What happened last night?”
I scoop up my little green monster man—covering my arms in green body paint—and walk past Rachel into the kitchen. I take a seat at the table and kiss Toby’s face all over until he squirms away and runs into the back yard with Ivy. Rachel sits across from me expectantly, with her elbows on the table and her hands crossed in front of her.
“He offered to pay for college—all of it. And he wants to buy Toby and me a house near Berkeley. He’s married to a witch. And I think I’m falling in love with him.”
I figure I may as well throw it all out there and let her start digesting the information. She falls back against the high-back kitchen chair, and a huff of air comes from her open mouth when she hits it. One of her daycare kids runs in from the back yard, and she tracks him as he hurries across the room toward the bathroom, chanting.
“Gotta pee, gotta pee, gotta pee.”
I’m watching her watch him, and it’s almost comical . . . almost. When the bathroom door slams, she returns her gaze to me, and I watch her smooth her skirt under the table. She opens her mouth to say something, but nothing comes out, and I feel bad for dropping such a bomb on her.
“Rachel, I’m sorry. I should have eased you into this or something.”
She stands and moves to the sink, where she turns on the water and starts doing dishes. What the hell?
“Hey,” I say, but she holds up a wet hand.
“I just need a minute.”
She always cleans when she’s freaked out. No wonder her house is so immaculate. If I had all these kids running around all the time, I’d probably be freaked out all the time too.
When she’s placed the last bowl in the dishwasher, she turns and dries her hands on a dishtowel.
“Okay, so you’re telling me you’re in love with a married man who wants you to be a surrogate mother for him and his wife, who is a witch. Oh, wait. And he wants to pay for college and buy you a house.”
“Correct. Yes, you’ve got it. Exactly.” I nod my head curtly in agreement. She’s still freaking out, but there isn’t anything left to clean, so she paces the length of the kitchen, back and forth, with one arm wrapped around her waist, tapping her front tooth with her pointer finger from her other hand.
“I knew I should have never mentioned this damn surrogacy thing to you. Now I’ve gone and completely screwed up your life.” She stops tapping and pinches the skin between her eyes. I’ve given her a headache. Great.
“You haven’t done anything, and I never said I was accepting his offer.”
She snaps her head up so hard that I worry about her neck. I have never seen her look so relieved.
“Oh, thank God, Lourdes. I thought you had gone off the deep en
d. You can’t agree to this. It’s too much, and there are feelings involved, feelings you shouldn’t be having. I’m going to talk to Blake about getting a loan for you to go back to school in the fall. I have a friend in Berkeley. Maybe she has room for you to stay with them, or maybe we could apply for low income housing or look for a roommate. Yes, a roommate. That’s a really good idea.”
She’s rambling. Her drastic reaction makes me think that maybe I’ve been living in a fairytale world. How’s this thing even going to work with Liam? He’s married, for God’s sake. What am I thinking? Of course I can’t have anything to do with this bizarre, fucked up plan. So many things could go wrong. My life is difficult enough without dragging a psycho woman and a sexy, gorgeous, attentive, dominant man . . . oh, who am I kidding? I’m not going to say no, but I’ve led Rachel to believe I am. I’m sort of scared to tell her now. She might drop dead right here, with her daughter and a bunch of daycare kids in the yard.
“Sis, don’t worry about it right now. We’ve got a couple of months to figure out what to do, and worst case scenario, I take a year off and work. Really, we will be ok. I’m going to get Toby and wash off his hulk paint and head home.” I scoot my chair back, but when I stand, I sway and grip the edge of the table.
“Lourdes?” Rachel says, hurrying to my side to help me back into my chair. I blink and hold my forehead with one hand and take deep breaths. I’m no expert on hangovers, but I’m sure they aren’t supposed to take your breath away and make you dizzy. I’ve had two bottles of water and a Gatorade since I woke up. I shouldn’t be dehydrated either.
“What happened? You’re pale as a ghost. Did you drink at that club last night? Oh God, did someone drug you? Those kinds of places are crawling with crazies putting drugs in pretty girls’ drinks.”
“Rachel, stop. No, I didn’t have too much to drink, and nobody drugged me. I was with friends all night. I’m just tired and stressed out. I need to go home and spend some time with Toby and rest. That’s all.”
“You looked dizzy. Are you dizzy? Do you think you should be driving?”