Baby and the Beast

by Taylor Holloway

  “She, um, acquired the Jeep’s key from my pocket and she took it. And then, as you saw, she got it stuck in the snow.” I sat back, resigning myself to telling them everything else. They were clearly not going to give up until they heard the whole story. “I followed Isabelle out there on Slick because I knew I shouldn’t take the snow machine in the dark, and by the time I found her, the weather was getting worse. I knew that I couldn’t make it back to the house, so I took her to the cabin. We were almost there when Slick decided to be a giant pain in the ass and throw us. I got my scratch. Then we went inside, and you know the rest of the story.”

  “Do we know the rest of the story?” Luc asked. “Because in my mind, that story ends in you two sharing that twin bed.”

  Jimmy looked relieved that he didn’t have to be the one to ask the question, but just as curious about the answer.

  “Nothing like you’re currently thinking happened that night.” Luc raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t sleep with her,” I clarified. “She doesn’t like me, remember? And I’m not exactly the biggest fan of hers.”

  The words didn’t exactly ring true. Luc and Jimmy certainly didn’t look convinced.

  “You know,” Luc said conversationally, “there’s a very thin line between romantic tension and anger. I know you two were arguing earlier and I’m sure tensions were running very high—”

  “Nothing happened.”

  “You sound kind of disappointed about that,” Jimmy observed. He was growing a spine lately. I wasn’t sure I liked it.

  But was he wrong? Did I sound disappointed? Crap. I probably did.

  “I’m relieved that Isabelle and I were actually forced to talk,” I explained, deciding not to play into Jimmy and Luc’s little game. “We had a real discussion. About what I wanted, and why. About what she wanted, and why. I think we both realized a few things about the other person and gained some valuable perspective.”

  “And as a result of that perspective,” Luc continued, “you’re now restructuring the entire surrogacy arrangement, and your lives, to make her happy.” He looked thrilled. “This is good.”

  Jimmy and Luc exchanged a hopeful glance. They wanted me to shack up with my surrogate. The idiots. They should know better. They were supposed to be my legal and financial counsellors. Not my enablers.

  “I thought you were sore because you’d slaved away on the contract forever,” I reminded Luc.

  He shrugged. “Actually, you pay me by the hour.”

  27

  Isabelle

  The New Normal

  “How are you feeling?” my dad asked me, looking over the dining room table at me like I’d just survived ten rounds with Mike Tyson. “Is everything alright?”

  I nodded. “Yeah. It is, actually.”

  He didn’t appear particularly convinced. He’d barely touched his coffee, but I could tell by the number of discarded mugs next to the sink that he’d been over-caffeinating himself lately. I bit back a sigh. We’d talked about this before I left.

  “Dad,” I said carefully, “you really ought to cut down on all the coffee. You know it makes your migraines worse.”

  He frowned at me. His dark eyes flashed over to the sink and back guiltily. “I’ve been cutting back. Bit by bit.”

  “Have you?”

  His expression said it all, but my dad was the world’s worst liar. He couldn’t tell a fib to save his life. “Not really,” he admitted. “I’ve been so worried about you these past few weeks.” He sighed. “I don’t like the thought of you living with that man.”

  I shrugged my shoulders like living with that man was no big deal. “We’ve been getting along okay,” I said when my dad continued to stare at me in semi-horror. “We had a few bumps at first, but it’s a lot better since we’ve been back in Los Angeles.”

  A few bumps. Ha. We’d nearly died in a blizzard. But there was no way I could tell my dad that. He’d drink all the rest of the coffee that existed in the world and then spontaneously combust from anxiety. It was important that he didn’t worry about me. I knew that after losing my mom he needed me to be alright. So, if I glossed over a few details, it was only because I had to protect him.

  This entire arrangement baffled my dad. He thought something must be very wrong with Connor. He wasn’t entirely wrong, either. Connor was a very eccentric man. I liked him, or at least, I was starting to like him, but there was no denying that he was unusual.

  “He’s treating you well?” my dad asked, still looking at me like I was insane.

  I nodded. “I’m not suffering.”

  Were things perfect now that we were back in LA? No. We’d had a few tiffs here and there. He’d told me, for instance, that he thought riding a bicycle was too dangerous. A bicycle. Not a motorcycle. A regular bicycle, with pedals. I’d eventually relented on that one when he’d offered that I just take Ubers wherever I wanted to go. I was fine with his proposal to pay an exorbitant fee for my “safety.” It was his money after all.

  Then there had been the thing about the neighbor’s dog. Connor’s backyard neighbor, a very nice, very old woman, had dropped by one day. She’d brought her very nice, very old Labrador retriever with her. I’d been having a lovely chat with her when Connor came in, saw the dog, and about had a stroke. Apparently, Connor was not a dog person. He thought they were disease-carrying, dirty, dangerous vermin. Totally inappropriate for a pregnant woman such as myself to be anywhere near.

  I really struggled with Connor on that fight. A dog is every bit as dirty as a horse. There’s really no difference in terms of cleanliness. And horses could carry diseases just like dogs could. And fleas, ticks, and any other parasite. And danger? Horses could kick you through a wall if they got it in their little horsey heads to do so. It was ridiculous.

  But I probably could have moved past the actual issue with the dog. It was the way Connor snapped at his neighbor, a sweet little old lady, that pissed me off. This time, at least, it was Connor who backed down. After I told him what a horrible asshole he was, he conceded the point. He even went to go apologize to the woman. We were making baby steps. Hell, by the time the baby arrived, we might even be friends.

  “Why do I get the feeling that you’re not telling me the whole truth,” my dad asked.

  I blinked at him. “Probably because I’m almost as bad a liar as you are.” I sighed. “Look, it’s not that easy living with someone who you’re having a baby for.”

  “Oh really?” my dad asked sarcastically. He twirled his spoon around in his coffee cup. “If only someone close to you could have warned you this was a bad, impulsive decision.”

  I bristled. “I didn’t say that it was a bad decision.” The jury was still out on that. Impulsive? Sure. I couldn’t argue that. “All I’m saying is that it’s challenging.”

  This morning, for instance, Connor announced that he was having Thanksgiving dinner with his family and that I should go home for the weekend. We’d been having almost every meal prepared at home by the chef, and I’d been expecting to spend Thanksgiving with Connor. Not an unreasonable assumption since he’d waited until the morning of Thanksgiving to announce this news to me.

  I’d been happy enough to come home, but I hated feeling like I was an afterthought or an inconvenience. Like he woke up and remembered that I was in his house and he needed to get rid of me so he could see his family. He’d never want me to meet his family. Never.

  There were moments when I thought Connor thought of me as a friend. And others where I was nothing more than a kitchen appliance. He was being much more respectful of me and my needs, but I knew there was still a huge power imbalance between us that might never be resolved. At the end of the day, I was never going to be his equal.

  My dad’s expression was sad. I was sure he’d been watching my face fall. “Wait until you feel the baby move for the first time,” he said gently. “You think it’s hard now? I’m sure it is. But it’s going to get so much harder, sweetheart. You need to be prepared.”


  I swallowed hard and looked away out the window. “I don’t want to talk about that, Dad.”

  I wasn’t ready to talk about the baby with my dad. I wasn’t even ready to consider the truth of the situation. Even though I’d agreed to everything with my eyes wide open, every day this pregnancy got a little more real. As the weeks went by, my body felt different. I knew that soon this would become very hard on me emotionally and physically. And then the baby would come, and I’d hand him or her over to Connor and leave. I’d never know the rest. I’d just have to close that chapter of my life and open a new one.

  “Isabelle,” my dad said, pulling my hand across the table and holding it between his. “I’m here for you. There’s no contract in the world that can take away a mother’s love or right to her baby. If you need to run, I’ll help you—"

  “It’s not my baby,” I told my dad. “It’s Connor’s baby.”

  I told myself that every morning when I got up. Maybe if I repeated it enough, I could believe it. Besides, it was true. In every legal way it was his and his alone. I was just a vessel. An easy bake oven.

  At least I knew that Connor was going to love this baby. Now that we were living together in closer quarters (although not that close, four thousand square feet is still huge), I could see his intentions more clearly. The man was obsessed with doing the parenthood thing right. He was currently obsessing about the nursery. He had architects and designers coming and going from the house on a regular basis and took frequent helicopter rides back to the castle to monitor progress. Even though it was really too early to be working on the nursery, Connor was a planner. There was no stopping him. Planners gotta’ plan.

  “I am glad you’re back,” my dad said, still wearing a highly skeptical expression. “I hated when you were so far away.” His expression thawed just the tiniest bit. “I am glad you’re going to be back on Night Stalker,” he admitted. “I just wish I could be there with you.”

  It had been a week since Connor and I made the official move to LA. The movie shoot had taken a short break over Thanksgiving, which had given me an opportunity to do some paperwork and other administrative tasks related to my new job. Sadly, I was not able to hire my dad back onto the production. Since I’d never been formally employed, there was no issue with me being hired for basically the first time. My dad, however, had quit the production on absolutely no notice. Connor probably could have cleaned that up if I asked him to and gotten my dad re-hired, but he’d already found another job. A better one.

  He would be working on a children’s television show, making cute monsters instead of scary ones. I thought it was endlessly entertaining that my dad, the master of horror and gore, was going to make singing unicorn puppets for a change. He wasn’t making that much money, but he wasn’t having to support me, either. It worked out.

  “I think you’re really going to like your new gig,” I told him. “We hardly ever get to do anything cute.”

  My dad smirked at me. “Since when do you like cute?”

  As the daughter of the master of horror and gore, I hadn’t fallen far from the tree. “I like cute.”

  “What cute thing do you like?” he asked, shaking his head. “Your favorite movie since age six was Alien.”

  I pressed my hand to my lower abdomen. “I like babies.”

  The words were out of my mouth before I realized that I shouldn’t say them. My dad’s expression shifted from amusement back to concern.

  “Izzie, that’s what I’m worried about.”

  28

  Connor

  The Prince Family

  My brother Wallace invited me to Thanksgiving every year. And every year, I went. Not because I really wanted to go, but because I felt like it was important that I see my only real family. So, off to Texas I went to Wallace’s home in Dallas, to see my brother and four nephews. It was an annual pilgrimage. And like any pilgrim, I was doing it out of a sense of deep-seated, irrepressible obligation.

  “Wow, you look better,” Wallace said when I showed up with my usual bottle of very expensive wine. “Nice haircut.”

  “Don’t sound so surprised,” I said, following him inside his gigantic ass mansion. Wallace was richer than I ever thought about being. He’d made his fortune in tech, not entertainment. While I’d been breaking into Hollywood, he’d been on the ground floor of Apple and then gobbling up Google stock and Facebook like it was going out of style. We both ended up successful, but I was a mere multi-millionaire. Wallace? Wallace was on the Forbes list of richest men. Near the top. And he never let me forget it.

  “So, other than rediscovering the power of a razor and soap, what have you been up to lately?” Wallace asked as we walked back the long, elaborate, Mediterranean walkway to his dining room. Wallace lived in a sprawling reproduction of, I assumed, the literal Vatican. It seemed to go on and on in resplendent, European ornament.

  I know that Isabelle thought my castle was silly. I could only wonder what she’d think of Wallace’s. In fact, this wasn’t even Wallace’s only castle. It was simply his primary one. The man had three castles. That I knew of, anyway. I wouldn’t put it past him to have another stashed away somewhere. It was probably where he kept his secret mistress. Thoughts of Isabelle returned with a vengeance. She wasn’t my mistress, but now that I was here, and she wasn’t…

  “Ahem?” Wallace asked, turning around to stare at me. “Did you hear me inquiring about your health and activities?”

  I frowned. “I’m fine,” I told Wallace. “My health is unchanged since last Thanksgiving. My activities are my own.”

  Wallace rolled his eyes. “I’m so glad you decided to come,” he replied. “It’s always such a treat.”

  I winced. I’d been rude again. Isabelle was always pointing out when I was rude, and I was getting better, but I still had some issues. “Sorry Wallace,” I said. “I’m just tired from the trip.”

  Wallace froze. “What did you just say?”

  I blinked back at him. “I said I was sorry.”

  He looked like I’d just taken a huge shit on his marble and wood inlaid floor.

  “Connor,” Wallace stuttered. “I don’t remember the last time you said you were sorry. For anything. Are you feeling okay?”

  “Yeah. I just said I was fine, remember?”

  My brother was always so dramatic. He was seventeen years older than I was, so we hadn’t really connected that well when we were younger. I always thought he was larger than life in both personality and emotional responses. But even though I grew up to be an actor and he grew up to be, well, Wallace Prince, titan of technology, he was still the dramatic one.

  “If you say so,” he replied. We were almost upon the dining room now.

  Inside, I saw my nephews assembled. Because of the age gap between Wallace and me, his oldest pair of twins, Thomas and Derek, were only five years younger than me. Holden was only seven years younger. I had loved hanging out with them when I was younger, and it had been really touching that all four of my brother’s kids followed me into acting instead of their dad’s path into technology. In fact, it was probably because of them that I was so obsessed with having kids of my own. I saw how happy they all made Wallace.

  However, this year there was someone else in the room besides Wallace, me, and the boys. A woman. She was tall, blonde, and sitting next to Peter, my youngest nephew (he was twenty-eight).

  Holy crap. Peter brought a girlfriend?! Considering that they were holding hands all lovey-dovey like, it was the obvious answer. My brain still had trouble digesting it.

  That was breaking precedent in a big way. Thanksgiving had always been a purely familial gathering. This must be serious. Were they going to get married? Wallace must be so happy…

  Then it hit me. This must be Lucy, the woman that Isabelle told me was dating my nephew. I’d assumed she was just another hookup. Isabelle’s friend Lucy, who happened to be a rising star in her own right, smiled at me pleasantly as I took my seat around the elaborately catered T
hanksgiving table. My nephews, who hadn’t seen me sans hobo beard in a decade, were all making variations of Wallace’s shocked look from a minute ago. Holden’s mouth was hanging open. Derek bit back a laugh. I stared back into their collective surprise with a sense of resignation. There were going to be a lot of questions this year. I just knew it.

  “Hi everybody,” I said, feeling vaguely ill at all the attention. “Happy Thanksgiving?” I hadn’t meant for it to come out as a question, but they were all just… staring at me.

  Also, I felt like a jerk. Guilt, which had already been simmering in me, boiled over. I’m sure Isabelle would have liked to see her friend tonight. Should I have brought her? Was that… normal? Was it better that I had her spend Thanksgiving at her house? She hadn’t said anything when I told her to go home. I thought she’d be excited. But she just nodded and then left the room.

  I had no idea how to explain the surrogate mother of my future child to my family. Especially the fact that she was living with me. Especially when I had a crush on her that was growing every day. However, my solution of just showing up to Thanksgiving without her and ordering her home to her own family now felt wrong. I was more confused than ever.

  “Hey, Connor,” Peter said after a moment of stunned silence. He was still looking at me like I’d murdered his uncle and shown up dressed in his skin suit. “It’s great to see you again. You look good. What have you been up to lately?”

  I had no clue how to answer that.

  29

  Isabelle

  The Night Stalker

  Ashton Radley looked like he’d gotten the full Lobster Boy treatment when he saw me on Monday. His pale blue eyes crawled up and down my overall-covered body in disbelief. “Did you miss me?” I asked him, faking a boatload of confidence I didn’t really have.