by Layla Silver
I had started working on one of the guest rooms in the house, which I had put off for the longest time. Mainly because I had always wondered who exactly I would be inviting to stay over, and I had been using the unfinished state of it as an excuse not to invite anyone over in the first place. Now, it was one of the few rooms not saturated with Dakota's unique scent, and I was happy for the reprieve. I would convert it into the baby's nursery because it was close to my own room and small enough to work.
I put on some plastic gloves after I had prepared the floor and went on to mix the paint. I was going for a white and gray theme on the walls because I didn't want anything colorful. I had already put in some fixed shelves so that any toys could go up there. The temptation to ask Dakota what she thought was strong, but I avoided doing that because she was just carrying the baby, not raising it. I just hoped the baby wouldn't be anything like her so that I wouldn't have to be reminded of her after she left.
I didn't want the baby to have her expressive eyes or adorable laugh. I didn't want to look at my baby’s smile all the time and see Dakota. Or maybe it would inherit her strange love for pop music and game shows; was that even something that could be passed down?
"I thought I smelled paint," Dakota said from the door.
I turned to face her and found her barefoot as usual, wrinkling her cute nose.
"I'm sorry, is the smell bothering you?" I asked, feeling like an idiot for not having thought of it earlier.
I had taken some time to do research on a few things I had to know now that I was living with a pregnant woman. And I knew that pregnant women often had a heightened sense of smell, which could be very uncomfortable. I could relate to that.
She shook her head. "No, I'm okay. It's a Dakota thing, not a baby thing, I promise."
I nodded, not knowing what to say to that. It was ridiculous, we spent so much time around the house together, and we couldn't avoid each other. She was probably starved for companionship, and it wouldn't hurt just to talk. Would it?
"Is your aversion to shoes a Dakota thing too, or a baby thing?" I asked, trying to make conversation.
She burst into laughter, and I felt something settle in my chest. Something that suspiciously felt a lot like joy. It was good to hear her laugh.
"It's a baby thing, and I'm thankful that you don't leave any nails lying around," she said.
"Ouch, I can just imagine that disaster. Just be careful, though, you never know. I'm only human."
Mostly, I added in my mind.
"You’re certainly more careful than most. It must come with the job, huh?"
I nodded. "Can't afford to make mistakes." Then, because she had mentioned it, I had to ask. "So how has the pregnancy been so far? Did you have any problems?"
I was curious to know what else had changed in her life and how the journey had been for her. While I had been preparing the house for the baby, she had been doing all the hard work.
"Well, I didn't have any morning sickness, thankfully, but I don't feel like doing anything besides napping most of the time. I'd say it's been an easy pregnancy so far; some of the things I read online were pretty interesting."
"Oh yeah? Like what?" I asked.
"People having cravings of peanut butter on cucumber, or crying all the time for no good reason. And peeing every time you laugh. It really can be nine months of being an alien in your own body," she replied.
I looked at Dakota for the longest time, thinking of that day we'd met at the clinic. I'd never considered what she was there for, but had that day been the day she had signed her contract? Unknowingly linking our lives forever? What had made her want to do this for a stranger? Carrying a baby for nine months was no easy feat; I knew that. It was a kind of sacrifice I couldn't even begin to imagine.
"What made you want to be a surrogate?" I asked softly.
I had never thought about having a baby through a surrogate until Julian mentioned it to me, and even then, the decision hadn't been instantaneous. I wondered if it had been easy for her, and if not, what had made her consider it.
"I had never considered it, to be honest," she replied with a sad smile. "But I came across it when I was going through a bit of a rough patch in my life, and I later decided to find out if it was for me."
I wanted to ask if she had any family, but it seemed too personal. She had opted to come and live with me, which probably meant that she had no one else. Like me. Except I had my clan, who filled that void in some ways.
"Have you been living in the city for long?" I asked, instead.
She shook her head. "No, that's a recent development. I grew up in a small, sheltered place. The only thing around for miles was just woods. I used to find it peaceful; the woods were the only thing I missed when I left."
"So why come to the city then, if you loved it back home?"
She sighed and sat down on the floor against the door frame, folding her legs and placing her hands on her belly. I had never seen anyone look so tired and vulnerable, and I almost went to her to take her into my arms.
"My uncle took me in after my parents died, but I didn't have the best of childhoods. They weren't exactly happy to have an extra mouth to feed, and my uncle never let me forget it. He was drunk most of the time, too, so that didn't do any wonders for his disposition. And on his best days, he just ignored me and let his wife take over."
"You didn't have any other family?" I asked, feeling my anger rising at Dakota's uncle for putting her through that.
"No, my dad didn't have any other family besides his brother. And my mum grew up in, um, foster care," she replied.
"So that's why you left home," I said in understanding.
Dakota nodded. "I ran away actually. Because as much as he hated me, my uncle would never have let me leave. I had a small backpack with my clothes and some money, but I was prepared to face whatever I would come across instead of staying in that house for one more day."
Despite myself, my heart broke for her, and I walked over to her and sat near her, with my back against the wall.
"I'm glad you saved yourself," I said honestly. "You’re so brave, Dakota."
She scoffed, "That's one word for it. Maybe I was just stupid. I had no education or work experience to see me through life in the city. Anything could have happened to me."
"But it didn't," I quickly answered. "You made it work and took care of yourself."
She looked up at me with sad eyes. "You know the sad part … I thought the surrogacy would change my life, you know. But all the money I got ..." Her voice trailed, and I saw red.
"What happened, Dakota?" I said with a tight jaw.
"My uncle, he kept pushing me for money, and I was scared he would come to find me if I didn't give it to him. I had no choice. It's not like I blew your money on stupid things or—"
"That thought never even crossed my mind," I assured her softly.
"It's why I had to push you away after we—" She paused and bit her lip before continuing. "I had already signed the contract, and my uncle was threatening to make my life a living hell. I just had too much going on, and I hadn't expected to meet you. I thought it was best that I let you go."
"I understand," I said, truly feeling that way.
Of all the things that I had imagined, I never would have thought that she actually had valid reasons why she'd pushed me away. It made me look at Dakota in a new light, and I wanted to let her know that it was all in the past now.
"I'm sorry for everything, Lincoln. I felt terrible for the way I handled everything. You have to believe me," she apologized again.
"I do, and it's okay. Let's just start over, okay?"
She gave me a small smile and nodded. "I'd like that."
"And if your uncle tries to blackmail you again, will you please let me know?"
She gave me a hesitant nod, but it would do for now. I wanted her to know that I would protect her to the best of my abilities, and even though she had no reason to trust me, I would show her that s
he could.
"So now that we've waved the white flag, you can tell me all about you while I get started on this room," I said, standing up.
She laughed. "What exactly do you want to know?"
"Anything you feel like talking about," I replied with a shrug.
I just wanted to hear her voice and take her mind off her past.
"How about I tell you five things about myself, and you do the same?" she suggested with a playful grin.
"Hmm, as long as it doesn't involve first kisses. Because I honestly don't remember mine," I laughed.
"You were a player in your young age, huh?"
"Not even. I was a loner, and the first time I ever tasted a beer was in college. It turned my world upside down, and rumor has it I got my first kiss then in a stupid game of spin the bottle. As I said, I don't remember," I replied.
She laughed out loud. "You lie! You got your first kiss in college?"
"True story."
"I don't believe it," she said, shaking her head.
"Why not?"
Dakota blushed and waved her hand in my general direction. "Well, because you look like that."
I laughed at both her statement and flushed face. "As I said, I was a bit of a loner growing up and spent most of my time with my parents. They passed away when I was a teenager, so I spent more time missing them than enjoying the adolescent phase. Didn't enjoy parties much, and the kids my age didn't bother with inviting me anymore after I turned them down a number of times."
"So, what's the first kiss that you do remember?" she asked.
"I thought you said you'd tell me yours first, and then I'd tell you mine. You are cheating."
"It's the baby, it's very curious," she said innocently, making me laugh again.
"I was nineteen, and I went on a date with this beautiful girl. I was all limbs then, too tall for my own good and in desperate need of some muscle. I was overexcited, and I somehow attempted to lick her tonsils." I paused and chuckled when Dakota gave me a horrified look. "Needless to say, I never heard from her again."
"It gives me hope that people like you can have horrible making out experiences too," she said seriously, placing her hand over her heart.
"I'm glad my traumatic teenage experience makes you feel better about the world," I said, equally serious.
Dakota broke first and giggled. "You’re welcome."
I shook my head and smiled, taking a brush and starting to do my work.
"If it's any consolation, you're excellent at it now," she said softly.
I felt myself harden, and I forced myself not to turn to look at her. She was probably blushing, and I didn't want to imagine where that blush ended.
"Now tell me about you," I said, desperate to change the subject.
Dakota did just that, filling the room with her laughter as she told me some of her happy memories. For the first time in my life, I enjoyed the lack of silence.
Chapter 14 - Dakota
"Hi," I said as I walked into the kitchen.
One side of it was covered in plastic, and there were old newspapers on the floor. But it was still easy to tell that it would be beautiful once Lincoln finished working on it. He turned to face me with a spatula in his hand and one of his brilliant smiles especially made to make my life miserable. It must be pregnancy hormones because lately, I couldn't control myself around him. And the man just made it worse by working shirtless around the house.
"Hey. Feeling better this morning?" he said, his eyes making a quick sweep of my body as if my sickness had been something outward.
It made me shiver, and I felt the heat begin to build in places where he couldn't provide me with relief. Ever since our conversation, the atmosphere around the house had improved considerably, and I was feeling more and more like myself around him. His lighter side seemed to be coming out, too, and his very lovable side had made its debut like how he had held me all of last night until my nausea had passed.
I had been having a craving for hazelnuts so badly, but as soon as I had eaten some, I had gotten sick despite not having any allergies. Lincoln had held my hair while I threw up then gently cleaned me up with a wet towel. Any other time I would have felt embarrassed, but being on the receiving end of Lincoln's care was some kind of experience. His hands were large and rough, but as he held my face, they’d been as gentle as baby hands. And the way he had held me after and told me funny stories from his childhood until I fell asleep had been perfection. The only problem was that when I had woken up hours later, I had been alone.
Not that I expected him to stay or make any move towards me. Lincoln might have been friendly now, but that's all he was, friendly. It was already frustrating because I was insanely attracted to him and wanted to rip his clothes off every time that he was around. Add the fact that I'd had a taste of him before, and it was torture. Because I knew what his lips tasted like, and I knew what he could do with his body. I knew the heights he could take me to, and I knew what I was missing out on now. Was it better to have experienced it once or never at all? I had no idea.
I had to accept that he was interested in nothing more than taking care of me as the person who was going to deliver his baby. Our relationship was that of a surrogate and an intended parent, nothing more. He had already set the pace, and I had to follow his lead. I accepted it, but I didn't like it one bit.
"I feel great, actually," I answered. "And I'm really hungry now. What are you—oh!"
I put a hand on my stomach as the movement startled me. Lincoln was by my side in a flash, and I briefly wondered how he had done it. I must have been more distracted than I thought.
"What's wrong?" he said, his hands on my arms.
I laughed as the baby kicked again and took one of Lincoln's hands to place it on my stomach. I felt something strange and warm run through me, and a feeling of peace filled me. It was an insane thought, but it felt as if Lincoln and the baby were connecting somehow. The grin and wonder on Lincoln's face made me think that he felt something similar too. It was a beautiful moment, and I imagined how it would be if we were a real family. Probably pregnancy hormones again making me emotional and sappy. I brushed it off and focused on the baby who was doing a football practice inside of me.
"He's strong," Lincoln said, then laughed.
"Are you reading the baby's mind too?" I teased.
It was a terrible joke because it reminded me of our night together. But Lincoln didn't seem to mind because he smiled and shrugged.
"Something like that," he said, then removed his hand once the baby seemed tired of playing around.
He looked at me for the longest time, and I felt my breath hitch. Then he touched my cheek lovingly and smiled.
"You are amazing," he said, making me lick my lips nervously.
I wanted him to kiss me so badly, but he just dropped his hand and went back to cooking. I drew out a chair and sat down while he finished what he was doing.
"I made pancakes with chocolate syrup," he answered my earlier question. "Which juice do you want?"
"What are my options?"
He turned to me as he put some pancakes on a plate.
"Pineapple, watermelon, or orange. Or a combination," he replied
I made a face at that. "Pineapple only, please. Let's not experiment this morning. I'm not sure where I stand with this one yet."
"Hmm, good point. Maybe I should leave out the chocolate syrup, too, you never know."
"Don't even think about it, Pierce!" I exclaimed in horror, making him chuckle. He knew about my love affair with chocolate and all things sweet.
"What's up for today?" I asked as he set my plate in front of me.
I was generous with the syrup as I poured it over my pancakes, and Lincoln raised a brow at me.
"Don't judge me," I said, sticking my tongue out at him.
He raised his hands in defense. "Hey, knock yourself out. But you might want to take a long walk to burn all that sugar out of your system."
"I feel ju
dged," I said, taking my fork and knife.
I took a large bite and moaned, licking the chocolate that remained at the corner of my bottom lip. When I looked at Lincoln again, he was focused on my lips and looked like he was in pain. He turned and washed his hands in the sink, then sat down as if nothing had happened. Maybe I was just making a big deal out of everything because I wanted to affect him as much as he affected me.
"When I was little, I couldn't get enough of chocolate and ice-cream," I said, breaking the silence. "I thought it was the most wonderful thing I had ever tasted. I'd gone to a birthday party and had my fill of it until I got sick, but despite that, my little heart was hooked. My aunt started using it to blackmail me to do stuff. I couldn't get dessert if I didn't clean the house, or do the laundry or wash the cars. I was probably twelve when I swore to myself that when I grew up, I would have ice-cream and chocolate for breakfast, lunch, and dinner."
"How's that working out for you?" Lincoln smiled.
"I'll let you know in a few years," I answered with a grin, ignoring the pang in my chest at the thought of not seeing Lincoln in a few years.
"Here is to chocolate meals," he said, raising his glass of juice.
"Hear, hear," I said in response, clinking my glass against his.
We ate in comfortable silence, and when we were done, Lincoln did the dishes. For someone who wanted me to exercise more, he never let me do anything around the house. Weird man.
"I'm thinking of going to the yoga class today," I said. "Are you working this afternoon?”
I had been talking walks around the house lately, but I felt like going for some yoga today. Not only was it exercise that I needed, but it would be nice being around other pregnant women. Besides Anna, I didn’t have any other women I could talk to in my life. And even Anna was more of an ex-colleague now than a friend; I hadn’t told her anything about what I was going through.
He shook his head. "I'm going in tomorrow. Do you want me to drive you?"