A Mother's Secrets (Parent Portal 4)

“I was just speaking with my doctor,” she said then, standing and heading to the other side of her office—behind him—where he knew a conversation area with a couch and chairs sat. He heard a refrigerator door open, turned to see a small one set into the cupboards set along the far wall.

“Would you like some water?” she asked. “Or juice? I have pineapple, peach and cranberry...”

He preferred orange, hated pineapple, but said, “Peach, please.”

He didn’t want any juice, really.

Had she just said she’d been on the phone with her doctor? He knew she had. But...

“I’ve decided to grant your request to be the surrogate for your embryo,” she said, sounding like a high school principal or something as she walked slowly back toward her desk, stopping to place a cold bottle of capped juice on the corner of the desk closest to him.

She didn’t hand it to him. Why did he notice? Or care?

“That is, if you still would like to consider me as a prospect,” she added, watching him as she retook her seat behind the desk. “You’d said that you hadn’t changed your mind when we spoke at the end of last week.”

“I haven’t!” He sat up. Stood up. Reached for the juice. Sat back down. “Did you just say yes?” he asked inanely. He knew there was absolutely nothing wrong with his hearing.

It

was the rest of his brain that concerned him. The scattered messages it was sending... Spiked with huge hits of adrenaline...

“I did.” Christine wasn’t smiling. She didn’t look angry, either. Just professional.

Right. Which was what he should be doing. Acting like the professional he was.

“I’m sorry,” he said, taking a sip of juice and holding the bottle on the arm of the chair. “I just...you took me by surprise.” The grin that evolved out of the waywardness of his mouth almost split his lips. “This is great!” he said. Smiling some more. Nodding. And then, “Seriously, I... Wow. Thank you.”

There, finally, something appropriate to the moment.

And then, as though that expression of gratitude righted his mind, a mental list appeared in his thought process.

“So...we’ll need to take care of the legalities...”

She handed him one of the piles of papers. “My portion is all here for your lawyer to look over,” she said. “I’ve already had my stipulations drawn up. I’m sure you’ll have your own, and when you get back to me, I’ll have a meeting with my attorney and hopefully we’ll end up with a final document with which we can both be satisfied.”

He didn’t give a damn if she wanted to name the child. He’d be satisfied. Hopefully appearing a whole lot more calm on the outside than he felt on the inside, he reached for the papers.

Holy hell. He and Emily were going to have their baby! With Christine, just like Emily had envisioned.

His wife hadn’t been planning to die. Or even been aware that she might. He didn’t think that for a second. But, in her way, when she’d told him that if they had to use a surrogate she thought it should be Christine, she’d still planned their future. Just like that day in the emergency room when she’d called him over and asked him to be her friend. Those words—“see ya” instead of goodbye.

He wanted to pick Emily up and swing her around and around like he had on the dance floor at their wedding reception. To sweep her right up off her feet. To hug her tight.

Glanced to his right. Saw the empty chair sitting next to him.

And welled up with tears.

* * *

If Christine hadn’t looked up from her papers—she wouldn’t have noticed the tears glistening in Jamison Howe’s eyes for the second he took to blink.

And then they were gone and he was watching her.

“Anything else?” he asked, not quite smiling, but looking pleased. He held up the papers she’d pushed toward him with one hand, the bottle of juice in the other, and her heart leaped. The man was too endearing to go to waste. He had to find another woman to love. To have her children.

“I’ve already had the medical exams and tests necessary,” she said. “That was my doctor’s office on the phone, giving me the final report.”

“Your doctor’s office isn’t here?” An innocuous question. She hadn’t realized how badly she’d needed it. Something to get her focus back where it belonged.