by K. C. Crowne
“We can help you, Amy,” she said, letting me know she’d been listening. “We can call Child Protective Services and see if they can help.”
“Don’t bother,” she said, wiping her tears away. “I’m going to be eighteen next month, and it’s not like CPS does any good.”
With that, her tears started to really flow.
It was my cue to leave. But there was something I needed to do first.
“Amanda, mind giving us one more minute?”
“Of course.”
She stepped out, leaving me and Amy alone. I took my wallet out of my back pocket, withdrew three of the hundreds I’d withdrawn from the ATM on the way over, and placed them, along with my business card, on the table in front of her.
“I want you to get a good meal, then take the rest of the day to yourself. I’m sure the officer gave you his card, but if you need someone to talk to, or some medical attention, I’m here for you.”
Amy glanced down at the money, then up at me. There was confusion in her eyes, as if I were playing some trick.
“Th…thank you.”
“Take care of yourself, alright? And remember – we’re the good guys.”
With that, I took my leave. Amanda had been watching, and I met her in the living room. Together we went outside in front of the house.
“What’s next for her?” I asked.
“We see if she’s open to help. But if not…she can stay here for a week, tops. There’s only so much room. I will need to call CPS though since she’s a minor and there are other children in the house.”
I turned my attention to the block around us, the area rundown and seemingly on the brink of collapse.
“Thanks, Amanda.”
“Thank you,” she said. “You do too much for us.”
“Nonsense. I wish I could do more.”
With that, she squeezed my arm then headed back inside.
After that, I had to find some way to return my day to normalcy.
Chapter 14
CARLY
What’s the sitch?
Allie’s text came right as I’d finished hanging up the sopping wet clothes that had been in the washing machine. The dryer was likely still working, but I didn’t want to mess with it until I’d had a chance to fully clean the laundry room and have a repairman take a look at the washing machine.
And, of course, the washing machine just had to break during the first load of many, many piles of dirty clothes for the week.
Luckily, Allie was as dependable as always. After sending a text to the office at school letting them know I’d be out for the morning taking care of a household emergency, I’d gotten in touch with Allie, letting her know about the washer disaster. She’d offered hers, which was a godsend. I could get the laundry over to her place, then head back to mine to take a quick shower before rushing to school ASAP. If I made good time, I’d only miss homeroom and first period.
So, with a bagful of dirty clothes in each arm, I trudged outside to load them up in the back of my car. The morning was cold and gray, one of those depressing, dead, late winter’s days that made you wish spring would hurry up and get here. The sopping wet clothes were heavy as hell, and by the time I was halfway to the car my shoulders felt on the verge of dislocating from their sockets.
“Hey, Carly!” the rough, deep voice called out to my left.
My neighbor Brandon was standing in his driveway. Just him saying my name was enough to send a shiver up my spine and make my blood run cold.
Brandon had lived next to us for a few years and had a very obvious thing for me –by that I mean he liked to watch me from his windows, thinking I didn’t see him. We’d barely said more than a handful of sentences to each other, my clearest memories of him staring at my chest instead of my eyes.
“Carly!”
I kept my head down, but when I heard his boots plodding on the snow, each step a little louder than the one before, I knew there was no way I’d be getting out of this.
Brandon approached right at the moment I stopped in front of the car.
“What’s the story? You hard of hearing?”
I looked up at Brandon, wishing I was any place but standing there in front of him. Brandon was forty-ish, with a paunch belly and wearing baggy, dirty jeans and worn-out sneakers. His thinning hair was hidden under a mesh baseball cap, and his eyes had the tired, faraway look of a man who’d spent one too many nights knocking back six-packs in front of the TV. His face drooped like an English bulldog, and a creepy smile was on his lips.
I wasn’t exactly sure what his story was. I’d heard from another neighbor that he had a kid with some woman in Kansas City who’d kicked him out of both of their lives for behavior that I could only guess at.
“You –” he started speaking but didn’t get far into his sentence before he let out a throaty burp that smelled like cheap beer. He cleared his throat and went on. “You moving out for the week or something?”
“Nope, just…” I felt too on-the-spot to come up with an excuse. “Just have some washing machine problems.”
He glanced down at my bags. To my horror, I realized that one of them was stuffed full of bras and panties. His eyes lingered on them for way, way too long before he glanced back up at me.
“Washing machine problems? Hell, I’ve fixed more than a few appliances in my time. You want me to take a look at it?” He placed his hands on his hips in a way that I think was supposed to look authoritative. It might’ve worked if the booze he’d had for breakfast hadn’t made him unsteady on his feet.
More than that, his eyes made a quick pass of my body, making me feel all kinds of uncomfortable. All I wanted was to be as far away from him as quickly as possible – to say nothing of him coming into my house.
“It’s fine. I’ve hired someone to look at it.”
“Bullshit.” His eyes flicked down to my panties again. God, what a perv. “You don’t need to pay some repairman way more money than he deserves to fix a twenty-dollar part. I bet it’s just the hose come loose or something easy like that.”
“All the same, I’ll take care of it myself.”
“How about tonight?” he asked, reminding me of another reason I didn’t like him – he was pushy.
“That’s OK, seriously. I’m going to drop this stuff off at a friend’s then go back to her place after work to fold it and all that.”
Brandon looked confused. “Don’t you work late on Mondays? Yeah, you usually stick around the school to do extra work since Adam does his part-time Monday nights.”
My eyes flashed wide at this. I’d never told Brandon about my work schedule, let alone Adam’s work schedule.
“And how do you know that?” I asked. “I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned it.” Fear began to take hold in my belly. I wanted to be as far away from creepy Brandon as fast as I could.
Surprise took hold of his worn-out face for a split second. He appeared to understand he’d said something he shouldn’t have.
“Uh, well,” he took off his ball cap and rubbed the back of his neck. “A man can’t help but notice things – especially with a neighbor like you.”
That was all I needed to hear. Part of me wanted to chew the guy out, but I realized I didn’t know him well enough to guess at his reaction to me going off on him like that.
“OK, I need to go. Bye, Brandon.”
“Here, let me –”
Before he could finish, I quickly positioned myself in front of the bags.
“I said, I’ve got it. Now, please respect what I’m telling you and leave me alone.”
He raised his palms. “Alright, alright, easy. Just trying to be a good neighbor.”
A good neighbor doesn’t spy, creep. The words were the first to come to mind, but I kept them in check. I didn’t need to make the situation any worse than it already was.
“See you, Carly.”
With that, he turned and ambled off. I didn’t stick around to watch him go back into his house. Instead
, I heaved my bags into the back of my car, shut the doors, got in, and drove off as fast as I could.
I shuddered as soon as I was alone.
Then I got angry – not just at Brandon for being a creepy prick, but at my situation, at the fact that I wasn’t able to live in a better neighborhood, one where drunk assholes didn’t live next door and feel free to perv on me whenever they wanted.
As strange as it was, Ryan appeared in my mind. I found myself imagining what he would’ve done if he’d been there when Brandon had pulled that kind of behavior. Playing that scenario out in my head brought a smile to my face. First of all, there was no way a prick like Brandon would even think of acting like that around me if Ryan was there.
I was upset, but picturing a squat, out-of-shape creep like Brandon trying to step up to a brick wall like Ryan actually brought a small smile to my face. Brandon trying to fight him would almost be funny – I pictured Ryan doing the cartoon thing of putting his hand on Brandon’s forehead while Brandon impotently swung his fists through the air. Maybe Ryan would throw in a yawn while he checked his watch as Brandon tried in vain to take him down.
Then I was thinking about how fun he was, how sexy he was, and how much I enjoyed myself around him. Just like that, I’d forgotten all about the gross incident with Brandon. Sure, the matter of my potential stalker neighbor would need to be addressed, but for the moment, I was happy to be thinking of a guy who I actually liked.
When I pulled into the parking lot of my school – making good time, at that – I slipped my phone out of my pocket and gave the matter some more thought.
Would it be so bad to carry his kid? I’d make some money and get to spend nine months with a guy who, while we needed to be platonic, was easily the nicest guy I’d met in a long time.
I didn’t want to rush into anything, of course. But I found myself inching closer and closer to accepting the offer.
I pulled up our conversation and typed a quick message.
Hey. If Thursday works for you, it works for me. Let me know.
I hit send.
Then I smiled.
That Thursday, for the second time that week, I took a half day. However, the circumstances were very different this time.
You excited?
The text came in from Allie as I was getting ready for the appointment.
Excited didn’t even begin to cover it. I was excited, sure, but also nervous and eager and scared and just about every other emotion under the sun.
I’m kind of freaking out, to be honest.
It’ll be fine, came the response moments later. You’re just learning about it today, right? Not like you’re going to come home tonight with a baby in you.
It was a good point – today was all about fact-finding. But still, her words reminded me that, if I were to go through with this, I’d very soon have a little person growing inside of me. I thought back to biology class in high school, remembering the video we watched of pregnancy in super-fast speed, the sperm going into the egg and the egg splitting and splitting and splitting looking more and more like a person with each passing second, until it was a fully grown baby ready to come out.
I placed my hand on my belly, as if trying to wrap my head around the fact that I could do that, right here.
The clinic was right in front of me, a beautiful, modern building of glass, neat greenery arrangements lining the flagstone path that led to the front doors. I’d done my research – Guiding Generations was the surrogacy clinic not just in Denver, but the entire middle of the country. Only LA had clinics as good as this.
I brought in one more deep breath and released. Then I typed up one last message to Allie.
Going in now. I’ll let you know what happens!
You’d better! Her words were followed by a dozen or so heart emojis.
I was ready. I placed my phone in my purse and stepped out. The day was bright and sunny, the sky blue and the temperature cold enough to keep the snow but not low enough to be miserable. It was the kind of day that reminded you that while it was still winter, spring wasn’t too far off.
I approached the clinic, the doors opening for me automatically, a clean, sleek lobby on the other side. A small rock garden was in the center of the room, the place filled with sunlight. The receptionist, a professional-looking man in his early twenties, smiled warmly at me as I entered.
“Good afternoon, and welcome to Guiding Generations. Do you have an appointment with us today?”
I cleared my throat and spoke, still feeling a touch overwhelmed by it all.
“Yes. I’m here with Dr. Ryan Anderson. We’re supposed to be meeting with one of the specialists.”
He nodded, rising slightly from his seat and gesturing toward the hallway on the right.
“Of course. They’re waiting for you now, just down the hall. The conference room is the farthest door down.”
I thanked him and went on my way, my heart beating faster as I drew closer to the room. I scolded myself, trying to figure out what the hell I was so damn nervous about.
I heard Ryan’s familiar laughter. I stepped into the doorway and saw him seated at a conference table with a gorgeous blonde woman. Ryan glanced over at me and smiled, rising from his seat, and coming over to greet me.
There was something about him in that moment. He was fresh-faced and handsome, sunlight pouring in through the glass walls giving him the impression of being not just regular good-looking, but almost supernaturally hot.
“And there she is,” he said as he placed his big hand on my shoulder. “The woman we’ve been waiting for.”
The other doctor rose, and right away I could see that she carried herself with composed, professional poise. Her clothes – an immaculately tailored pantsuit – was obviously expensive, everything about her look perfect down to the last detail. She was stunningly pretty, her cheekbones high, her nose slender and pert, her eyes as blue as the crisp winter sky outside.
“Great to finally meet you, Carly,” she said. “My name is Dr. Tara Rochester.”
I extended my hand to her.
“Carly Grissom.”
We shook, her handshake firm, then she gestured to the table.
“Have a seat. I’m sure you have a lot of questions. I can’t wait for the opportunity to answer them.”
I nodded, my mouth in a flat line. I wasn’t able to say a word.
It wasn’t that I was nervous, it was that Ryan’s hand on my shoulder had rendered me speechless. His touch and his scent and that suit he wore all worked together to make me more turned on than I’d been since…well, the last time he’d touched me.
What the hell was I getting myself into?
Chapter 15
RYAN
I placed my hand on the small of Carly’s back and led her to the table. I knew I shouldn’t have – it wasn’t like we were a couple. But it was so damn hard to resist touching her, getting close to her body.
I was amazed when I saw her, as if her image had been dulled in my mind since the last time that we’d seen one another and I was getting a picture-perfect reminder that she was, without a doubt, the best-looking woman I’d ever known in my life.
Carly was dressed in her parka, slipping that off to reveal a simple but tasteful winter outfit of a thick, woolen sweater, dark jeans, and a pair of duck boots. The way the sweater clung to her chest only reminded me of what her body looked like underneath it, and the memory made me hurry into my chair in case my cock decided to twitch to life.
When she slid into the chair next to mine, sticking out her perfect ass as she did it, I about lost my mind. How was it possible that she was so effortlessly sexy? I’d been searching my whole life for a woman who made me feel the way she did. And there I was, sitting next to her, getting ready to have her carry my child in a way that made her off-limits.
What the hell was I thinking?
Carly slipped a black, Moleskine notebook out of her purse, opening it up on the table. “Sorry,” she said. “Teachers
always take notes.”
“Not a problem at all,” Dr. Rochester said. “And please let me know if there’s anything you’d like to know more about that we don’t cover.”
Carly nodded. “Alright. Ready.”
Dr. Rochester smiled. “Let’s get this started.” She folded her hands together on the birchwood table in front of her, turning her attention to Carly. “Now, how familiar are you with the process of in vitro fertilization?”
“All I know about in vitro is that it’s my favorite Nirvana album,” she said with a slightly nervous smile.
That got a chuckle out of Dr. Rochester and a smile out of me.
“Then I can start with the basics. The term in vitro literally means in glass, and it refers to any type of biological process taken out of its natural environment and done in a lab setting. And if it’s going to be in a lab, it’ll be in glass, hence the term.”
We both said nothing, letting her go on. Dr. Rochester pressed a button on a small remote nearby, the TV on the opposite wall coming to life, the video playing that of a lab setting, a dozen or so white-coat-clad doctors over their work surfaces. Glass containers were all around them, all filled with plants.
“Now,” the doctor said. “You might think that with it all taking place in a lab, the process is complicated. But really, it’s not at all.” She pressed a button on the remote, the video of the lab disappearing and replaced with a computer-generated image of a cross-section of a woman’s body, her reproductive system highlighted. “In vitro fertilization is simply the reproductive process without sexual intercourse.”
“The first step is to give you physical and psychological exams to ensure that you’re in optimal health.”
“Psychological?” Carly asked with a small smile. “To make sure I’m not crazy?”
Dr. Rochester smiled again. “Nothing so severe. The tests are simply to make sure that you’re in a good mental state to carry a child to term. For example, if you’d recently gone through a major loss, a family or loved one passing, the process might not be the right call for you at this moment in time.”