“I apologize for my abrupt response a few minutes ago, telling you to leave,” she said. “I’m not used to people getting so intimately personal with me. At least not to my face,” she said.
Was this really happening? She was coming around? “As I said, I was totally out of line.”
Something in his stomach started to flop around again. Not a sensation he appreciated, nor one he’d tolerate once he had a moment or two to work on calming it. He’d definitely be adding some abdomen strengthening exercises to his daily regime.
“You were totally out of line with your personal comment regarding my life, and I’ll forget it happened if you’ll forgive my completely unprofessional response.”
He turned to face her. “Done.”
She nodded, picked up a pen and pulled a pad in front of her. “If you’ll give me some parameters, I can get started seeking out candidates,” she said. “This is nothing The Parent Portal has ever handled, as I said, but under the circumstances, I’d like to see if I can be of some assistance. You’ll need your own lawyer, I know that much. And the surrogate will need a separate one. Rule number one in this state—whomever you choose, even if it’s someone in your family, or someone you know privately, will have to have a full medical workup. The surrogacy clinics all have their own criteria, some based on state law, some based on their experience with successful matches and births.”
“I’ve done the research,” he told her, still stepping no closer to her. He didn’t want her help finding a surrogate. He needed her to be the surrogate. There was no scientific or logical basis for his certainty on that. He just felt certain.
Could be the strain of pigheadedness in him.
Or it could be something more.
Jamie needed time to work on that one. For the time being, he’d accept what help she was willing to give him. Maybe she’d find someone who felt right for him. To him. Maybe.
He didn’t think so.
“She has to have given birth before,” he said then, to show her he’d really done research. “A lot of the clinics want her to have a child living at home, as it eases her ability to give one up, but I know that’s not state mandated.”
“It would be best for you if she’s had a psychological workup, too,” Christine said, holding her pen with a hand on each end as she watched him. She didn’t offer him his seat back.
He didn’t presume to take it.
The distance between them seemed...okay.
“You’ll have a legally binding contract, but she still holds all the cards until that child is born, and you want to avoid as much chance of potential heartache as you can. The baby inside her might not be biologically hers, but her hormones will be working as though it was. You need her to be strong enough to love it for the time she carries it, and then let it go.”
Yes. Exactly what he’d concluded. Christine got it. Her focus was on people—their emotional needs—both those who’d been born and those who hadn’t yet. Those who wanted babies and those who were giving them up. It was what made her clinic so different—the contracts she insisted on that allowed all parties to seek out the others, within clearly stated boundaries, in perpetuity.
He wanted her to carry his and Emily’s baby. She knew it all.
Was in great physical shape...
He gave himself a mental shake. He wasn’t there to assess her body. Before any embryo placement could be made, a doctor would determine whether or not she was physically a viable surrogacy candidate—assuming she agreed to his request, of course.
And that’s as far as his knowledge of her body had to go.
“So let’s start with a list of what you’d like in a surrogate,” she said. “And what you have to offer one.”
“I’ll pay whatever it takes.” That had been a given from the beginning. Not only did he make a good clip, but he’d had a settlement from the insurance company of the driver of the car that had hit Emily. And he’d answer her questions because she seemed to need to ask him, but he couldn’t get past hoping she’d have this baby herself. Emily having mentioned her as a potential surrogate...it was as though on some level she’d known...
“I wasn’t just speaking financially,” she said, while making a note. “How do you perceive this going? How involved do you intend to be?”
“As involved as I can be.”
“I’m assuming you want her to be local enough for regular checking in, then?”
He wanted “her” to be Christine. Right there in Marie Cove. Someone who wouldn’t get creeped out if he stayed closely in touch, because she understood his situation. Because he was not yet ready to seriously consider an alternative surrogate, he kept the majority of his response to himself, other than a truthful, “Yes.”
“Do you want to give her the option to pick her own doctor and clinic?”
Sure, if “she” was Christine. “No, I want the procedure and birth to be handled by The Parent Portal.”
He got what she was doing, though. And appreciated her effort. She was seriously committing to helping him find the woman who’d bring his child into the world. Moving closer, he slowly retook the seat he’d vacated. She didn’t even look up from the pad upon which she was writing.