by Cat Porter
My and Miller’s baby was now only a collection of cellular matter. Our test-tube alchemy of love and determination had not been strong enough to endure the nine-month journey of gestation in a foreign uterus.
Because I don’t have a uterus.
This mass of cells had been scraped from its foster home.
Scraped, dissected, prodded. Dumped.
Miller’s hand squeezed my leg. “That’s good,” he murmured.
I glanced up at the doctor and nodded. I went back to staring at my boot twisting in the carpet.
“It’s very, very good,” the doctor continued. “Finding another gestational surrogate shouldn’t be a problem. Once you do, you won’t have to go through the IVF process again, Grace. We have three more embryos ready to use.”
Oh, yes, my three popsicles. Ready for shipping and delivery at a moment’s notice.
“Right,” came Miller’s tight reply. His one arm swept over my shoulders. “Grace? Anything else you want to ask the doctor?”
I shook my head. “No.”
Dr. Carollton closed our folder, tapping it on his desk. “I will wait to hear from you once you find a new surrogate, and we’ll go from there. Sound good?”
Sure, I’ll just go find a new surrogate, like finding the right paint color for my living room or a new perfume to suit my mood. No problemo.
I got up from my seat and watched a somber Miller shake Dr. Carollton’s hand. Only two weeks ago, we had been laughing and smiling and circling dates on our calendars.
Now this…
This nothingness.
This wait-and-see ho-humness.
My gut knotted. I slid my sunglasses down over my eyes as Miller steered me through the waiting room full of almost a dozen waiting women. Their expectant and anxious faces pressed in on me. Others glanced up from their magazines, tablets, and cell phones, appreciatively eyeing my husband up and down.
Once outside, he took my hand in his. “Babe, it’ll be all right.”
“Yeah,” I said softly. If I said anything more, I would burst through the cracks already visible on my crumbly dry surface.
“You want me to call the lawyer and ask him to contact those agencies again?”
“No, no. I’ll take care of it, honey.” So didn’t want to discuss this now. Nope. “You’re going to go back to work, right?”
“No. I’m not leaving you on your own today.” His hand rubbed mine, his dark eyes clouding over. He pushed back his hair behind his ears.
“Miller, you should go. You’ve got to finish those two bikes and that Ford before the rally next week. You don’t have to babysit me.”
“Babysit you? Shit, Grace. I just want to be here for you.”
I chewed on my inner cheek. “That’s what I’m saying, Mill. You don’t have to do that.”
He touched the side of my face. “Hey, our baby didn’t make it, for fuck’s sake. And you want me to go back to business as usual? How the fuck am I supposed to do that? I can’t.”
His eyes were glassy, the harsh angles of his face set. I had done this to him, put that sadness there.
Me and my happily ever after dreams.
I hugged him, tightly wrapping my arms around him. “Okay,” I mumbled into his chest.
He rubbed my back. “Let’s go get something to eat.”
“Baby, what I meant was, I don’t want you to worry about me. I’m okay. This was a risk to begin with. I knew that.”
He kissed the top of my head and lifted my chin to face him. I forced a slight smile.
“You want to try again, right?”
My insides winced. There it was. Need. Hope. Fucking hope all over his beautiful face and in the suddenly soft tone of his deep voice.
“Yeah,” I breathed. “Of course.”
IT WAS THE FOURTEENTH DAY after the great Miscarriage Revelation.
I was pretending to be doing well, handling it, getting on with it. I had them all fooled—Boner, Dad, my friend Lenore, Dee, Alicia.
Even Miller.
I put down the teacup, the ginger flavor much too spicy for me, and sank down on the small sofa in Lenore’s lingerie boutique in town. My fingers fiddled with my silver and leather bracelets as Lenore arranged new corsets on a tree branch–shaped display stand. I didn’t want to appear cold and unfeeling, but I wished time would speed up, so I could clock in the requisite hour with my friend and then leave. Nope, not even shopping and girl time was helping.
My knuckles were still scarred from my last scrape down this road. My body felt as heavy as lead in the small lemon yellow sofa. Not even shopping earlier at Pepper’s Boot Shop or Lenore’s amusing chatter had done anything to distract me or lighten that load. My eyes glazed over as I scanned the provocative lingerie surrounding me in the boutique.
“Hell, honey, with a surrogate, you don’t have to feel the crap side of pregnancy—the foot swelling, the back pain, the inability to move, all of that. Some women are into it, and some of us definitely aren’t. That would be me. I didn’t find that fun at all. Let’s not talk about the belly tire that lingers long afterward.” She patted at the curve of her lower belly.
I smiled. “I wouldn’t have minded any of that, fat feet and all.”
“Shit, I’m sure you wouldn’t have. I’m sorry.” Lenore rolled her eyes at herself. “I didn’t mean anything by it. You know that, right?”
“Of course I know that.” I leaned my head further back against the sofa. “I’m sorry I’m being such a drag.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. This stuff isn’t easy.”
“It isn’t. I know that I should just be grateful that I could afford this whole process and I was able to give it a try.”
“Grace, you feel angry? Feel it. You not being able to have kids is not your fault. That accident and the surgery you had to have—”
Let’s not go there now. Whose fault anything was and is. Blah, blah, blah.
“I know,” I said. “Really, I’m not feeling that I’m-a-barren-wasteland anger.”
“Oh, don’t talk like that.”
“I guess it’s this helplessness in the face of technology. I’m glad that I at least had a few good eggs to give.”
Lenore’s eyes brightened. “Exactly right.”
“It’s just strange, what a mechanical process it is. You have no control over it. You put your faith and trust in the hands of doctors and lab technicians.” I stared down at the tiny herbs floating in the teacup.
Lenore folded piles of tissue paper into a neat stack and set it in a box. She pursed her lips. “How’s Lock doing?”
I shrugged as my gaze flitted over the new delivery of high-cheek silk panties, frilly-trimmed satin panties.
“Grace, I wasn’t going to say anything, but he called me yesterday, looking for you.”
“What?” My face heated.
Lenore nodded. “You weren’t answering your phone, and he thought that maybe you and I had hit an exercise class or gone out for lunch or something.”
I waited for more. Lenore waited for a response from me. She’d be waiting in vain.
She held my gaze and tilted her head. “I told him that you’d been cutting out on cardio, and I hadn’t talked to you or seen you here in a while.” She propped the box on the floor by the cash register counter. “Grace, what the hell? Should I have covered for you or something?”
“Of course not. There’s nothing to cover.”
“Well, he wasn’t happy. But it was the truth.” Lenore sat down next to me. “Are you two okay?”
“Yeah, sure.” I sat up straight.
Time to leave.
She eyed me. “Ah, so very convincing.” The tone of her voice pricked at my skin like a newly sharpened pencil. “Where the hell have you been then? I’ve been calling you, too, if you’ve noticed, but you don’t pick up.”
“I’m sorry, Lenore. I’ve been moping. Things got busy with getting Jake ready to go stay with his dad. I went into Rapid a couple of times, did some shopping for Jake. He’s grow
ing so fast. He needed new jeans and PJs. And sneakers, too. Alex doesn’t have much time for shopping, never mind laundry.”
Since Miller had had a full calendar of appointments and deadlines last week, Boner had insisted on driving me and Jake up to Williston. I had been looking forward to alone time with Jake in the car, just the two of us singing along with his CDs and being silly, and most definitely alone time on the way back. Maybe doing some wandering before I went home. Something. Instead, I’d gotten Boner-chatter, as I liked to call it—an endless stream of remarks and observations and him driving my car way too damn fast. At least he hadn’t insisted I chatter back. After the second hour, I’d managed to fall asleep, which was good because sleep had been eluding me lately.
Lenore pressed a hand over mine. “Lock loves you, Grace. Maybe if you just opened up to him? He can take it, I’m sure. Don’t doubt that. That man’s got a big heart for you.”
“He does. And I just ripped a hole right through it,” I whispered.
Her eyes widened suddenly. “What?”
I stood up, clearing my throat. I have to get out of here. I didn’t want to discuss, analyze, or rehash any of this anymore. I just wanted it all to fucking go away. I had come today because, yes, I had been a lousy friend. Lenore had been trying to reach out to me since the miscarriage, and I hadn’t responded. I wish I had come to her beautiful boutique today just for a spot of shopping or to have a laugh with her like I’d done the week before, trying on new nighties. But, no, not this. Not now.
The usually pleasant vanilla-and-mandarin candle scent stifled my nostrils. The colorful racks of silky tendrils, otherwise known as lingerie, hanging in the exotic small space did not entice or amuse me. Instead, they taunted me. Their playful, naughty promise of sex was supposed to make you feel good, feel close to your lover, and get you pregnant—the ultimate end game, if Nature had her way. Not me though. Not me. So many women fussed with all kinds of birth control for years to not make that baby. Just like I had once upon a time. For years. And years.
Cosmic joke.
I slung my suede bag over my shoulder. “I’m going to go.”
Her eyes narrowed at me. “Where you off to?”
“I thought I’d take a walk before I head home. Window-shop down Clay Street. I’ve been wanting to check out that new pottery shop,” I lied. My gaze darted out the glass front door at the gray fullness in the sky.
She chewed on her lip. “Honey, I’d go with you, but I’ve got these deliveries coming now, and I’ve got to be here.”
“That’s okay. You’ve got a business to run.”
She squeezed my upper arm. “You call me if you need to talk. Anytime. Day or night, you hear?”
“I will. Thank you.”
“Here, take these. Try ’em. I keep selling out.” She stuffed several packets of nail decals in my handbag.
I let out a strained laugh. “As long as they’re not hearts or Hello Kitty, I’ll give them a try.”
“Rhinestone chips. A little bling does a girl good.” Lenore gave me a kiss on the cheek and shot me a wan smile as I waved good-bye and shut the door behind me.
The bartender at Pete’s parked another full glass of whiskey in front of me.
“I didn’t order another one, Randy. I haven’t finished this one yet. But if you insist.” I gulped down the last of my whiskey and reached for the fresh glass.
Randy wore a dark scowl on his thin face. “It’s from that guy over there.”
He raised his chin to my left, and I turned my head in that direction.
No way in hell.
“Grace, Grace, Grace.”
“Sam?”
He raised his hands in the air. “Oh, yes, ladies and gentlemen, she actually remembers my name.” A hand descended on his chest. “I’m touched, darlin’.”
Sam Tremont—a former beau from Texas, a civil engineer who had a thing for motorcycles and who could afford to indulge in his hobby. He’d walked into the Harley dealership that I managed one afternoon, and I had tried to talk him into buying a bike. He hadn’t bought the bike, but he had asked me out. We had lasted a little bit over four months. Kind of a record for me back then.
Still the same sassy look in those dark blue eyes as his mouth twisted into a smug sexy grin. There was now a hint of gray along the edges of his reddish-brown wavy hair, and it suited him.
I smiled, raising the glass of whiskey in his direction. “Thank you, kind sir.”
His head tilted at me while he, no doubt, waited for a response to his sublime appearance as if he were doing me a favor by gracing my hometown and me with his presence. “Fancy meeting you here.” He bent over and planted a kiss on my cheek, a hand squeezing my arm.
A different cologne, something crisper, greener, rose in the air between us.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I asked him. “If I remember correctly, you once declared that you would never set foot in the Dakotas again. They were too boring for you and your big, fat fancy BMW. What was it—‘a whole lot of nothing that goes on forever’?”
He laughed and slid onto the barstool next to me. “Jesus, Grace, you are never going to let me forget that, are you?”
His smooth Texan drawl washed over me just like the liquor warming my throat and easing my insides. Yes, I used to enjoy the way he spoke. A lot.
“Never.” I raised my glass and took another long gulp.
He laughed as he shook his head at me.
What had I seen in him?
An arrogance that I’d found exciting and intriguing, an arrogance that hadn’t required stroking from me. It had been fun to go along on its high and mighty ride for a little while there—until it’d gotten annoying.
“Shit, it’s been…how many years since I’ve seen you, and you still remember that? After everything else we had, that is the one thing that stuck, huh?” He drank from a longneck, his steely eyes remaining on me.
“Well, not the only thing,” I shot back, quirking an eyebrow.
“Oh, all right then!” He laughed, his sapphire eyes lighting up. “Phew! My sense of manhood is still intact.”
“But it is why I broke up with you, if you must know.”
“Get real. You liked that bike, BMW or not.”
I rolled my eyes at him, and we both laughed.
He scooted his stool closer to mine. “Did you come here after you dumped me? By the way, I came looking for you at the store and your apartment when I got back from that Hawaiian vacation I’d gone on by myself, but you were long gone. You gave up that for this?” His gaze darted around the tired bar before landing on me once more.
I smirked. I was sure he hadn’t stayed on his own for long at that deluxe resort. “I went to Seattle, then I came here. This town is where I was born and raised actually, so watch what you say.” My fingers trailed around the rim of my empty glass.
“No kidding.” He waved Randy over and signaled for a refill for me. “Are you living here now or on a visit? You’ve got a sister here, right?”
Indeed I do, but she’s in the ground. I rubbed my throat. “I’m living here now.”
Randy poured the amber liquid in my glass and frowned at me before he stepped away. I ignored him.
Sam clinked his longneck with my full glass. I raised it.
“Well, it’s very, very, very good to see you again.”
I let out a small laugh, shaking my head.
“You look good, Grace.”
We drank.
“Thank you. So do you.” I turned away from his intense stare and nursed my drink. “What are you doing in South Dakota?”
“My friends wanted to see Mount Rushmore on the way to Devils Tower, so we organized a little expedition.” He leaned in close to me. “I got rid of that BMW bike and got myself that Harley you’d told me I needed to have.”
He brushed my hair off the side of my face and planted a kiss on my cheek. I burst out into laughter.
“You impressed?”
“No.” I
put a hand on his chest and shoved him away.
“You should be impressed, hon. Pissed me right the fuck off, the way things ended between us. In a big way.” He sucked on his beer again and licked his lips dry.
“Oh, come on.”
“Did so, Grace.”
“If you say so.”
“I do. Drink up now.” He raised his beer bottle once more and waited for me to raise my glass. “Here’s to random encounters.”
My grip on my glass tightened. “What?”
“You and me, hon. Here in South Dakota. Amazing, huh? It’s gotta be—”
Taylor Swift shrilled from my phone. I grimaced. “Hold that thought, Tremont.”
I glanced at my phone on the bar top. Lenore checking up on me. I hit the Ignore button on the screen and set the phone to vibrate only. His gaze followed my hand.
“Nice diamonds.” He took my hand in his warm one and inspected my rings. “Splurge on yourself?”
“I got married.” I peeled my hand out of his and looked away from the glare of my gorgeous eternity bands sparkling in the light from the hanging lamp overhead.
His body went rigid. “Jesus, I could barely get you to commit to a weekend away, let alone a Hawaiian vacation. What the hell happened? Bump into an old boyfriend, and he dragged you off into the sunset? I’ll bet he had the right bike, huh?”
I didn’t respond.
He drank more beer and edged closer to me. “So then, what brings you to this bar in the middle of the day? Woman like you—a married woman, no less—drinking on her own?”
“A lady doesn’t tell her secrets.” My phone vibrated.
Sam raised an eyebrow, a smirk creasing his lips. “Yeah, that’s what I liked about you, Grace. Always a lady, even when you’re being a cold hard bitch.”
I scoffed. “Well, thank you very much, Mr. High and Mighty.”
“You’re welcome very much.” He clinked his beer against my whiskey glass with a wide grin on his face.
I swallowed my drink, staring at him. “I seem to remember, you were quite a flirtatious asshole. Couldn’t say no to anything with huge tits. You and your huge ego were a pain in my ass in the end.”
“Well, honey, when you’re not getting the attention you need from the woman in your bed, you start looking elsewhere.”