Page 12 of Nine Month Contract
My mind shakes off the stupor of the hot bearded man being a Swiftie combo that I didn’t know would rev my engine so much, andI ask the girl, “So let’s say you’re serious and your uncle does want a surrogate. Why would you ask me to do it? You don’t even know me.”
“Well, you’d need to consent to a background check, of course. And I’ll give you a background check on my uncle so you know he’s not like a criminal or creep and stuff. But all this doesn’t necessarily mean I’m offering you the job. I’m just asking for you two to meet. You guys have to choose each other from that point.”
Her response is more mature than I gave her credit for, so I press further. “Why do you think I’d be a good fit for him?”
She hesitates for a moment before a coy smile tugs at the corners of her mouth. “What if I told you I’m a mastermind?”
I roll my eyes at her Taylor Swift lyric quote and frown hard to get a straight answer.
She sighs. “Because you’ve both been rejected recently, and my grandpa always said that rejection just means you’re one step closer to finding your solution.”
SurrogatesHired:0
“Come here, Millie!” Everly calls out as the old girl bleats her hello and gingerly trots over to greet us at the pasture enclosure attached to my small red barn.
When I bought this mountain a decade ago, the barn was the only standing structure on the property. I lived in the shitty apartment above it while I cleared trees to prepare for the cabin build. Had to shower outside until I updated the apartment to allow for the tiny luxury of indoor plumbing. It was definitely rustic.
But I gave the barn a fresh coat of paint, revamped the apartment, and now it’s not so bad. But my cabin was a definite upgrade when I moved into it. It’s honestly probably what I’m most proud of in this life. That and old Millie here.
Millie bleats loudly as Everly’s long legs scale the fence, and she squats down to hug my pet goat. Though she’s more like a dog than a goat if that makes me any more manly.
I lift the latch and eye Everly dubiously for not just opening the gate. Some days, Everly seems so mature, and others, she’s still the same bouncing kid who hemmed and hawed over what to name Millie when I first got her. It was between Millie and Selena Goatmez, so I think I got the lesser of two evils.
Millie’s hooves stomp all over Everly’s white jeans as she shovesher nose into her long blond hair to say hello. Watching these two grow up together has been surreal. Everly was just ten years old when I found Millie, a newborn Nigerian dwarf, abandoned in the snow on the side of a highway outside of Jamestown. Her caramel-colored fur was coated in mud, and she was trembling and barely able to hold her head up. I took her to a vet in Boulder in the middle of a snowstorm, and he sent me home with milk, a heat lamp, and everything else I needed. He said it would be a miracle if she survived the night.
I laid her in my bed and stayed up all damn night, terrified she’d die on me if I fell asleep. But she made it. In fact, I woke up the following morning to her licking my face and butting me in the neck, looking for a drink. It’s been years now, and she’s basically the dog I never wanted.
Everly pets the white patch of fur on Millie’s crown and gives her a kiss before she asks me, “Have any veggies in your coat?”
I silently reach into my Carhartt and hand Everly a couple of carrots. “Millie was bleating her demands at freaking six this morning, so I had to run to the Mercantile to pick up some produce. She’s a pain in my ass.”
“She’s a woman who knows what she likes,” Everly corrects, stroking Millie’s ears as she offers her the carrot out of her mouth. God, my niece is a little weirdo sometimes.
She giggles when Millie gets close to her lips and pulls the veggie out of her mouth to give the rest before feeding her the next one. Everly glances up at me, and I notice her cheeks deepen in color.
“Out with it,” I grumble, knowing it must be something big if she’s nervous.
She hesitates before replying, “I think I found you a baby momma.”
I tip my head, doubt casting a shadow over her bright mood. If the twelve vetted women I’ve already interviewed at the agency didn’t work out, I don’t have high hopes for whoever Everly found.
“You have to at least meet her,” Everly demands, clearly noting my reluctant reaction. Millie notices Everly’s intensity and stops eating the carrot to look at the two of us. “I’ve done a background check and read through her résumé and cross-checked a couple of things. Honestly, I think she’s perfect, but it’s not up to me. It’s up to the two of you.”
I sigh heavily, feeling foolish for entertaining this idea but also still desperate enough to at least meet the woman. What’s one more “unlucky number thirteen” interview going to hurt? “What do I do next, then?”
Everly smiles triumphantly. “I made you a dinner reservation for tonight.”
“Tonight?” I grumble, dreading the idea of driving into town. The longer I live out here in the wilderness, the less I like driving in traffic.
“I set it up at the Mercantile,” she answers with a proud smile.
The Merc is basically in my backyard, so the idea doesn’t sound quite as painful. “Do they even take reservations there?”
Everly smiles. “Judy likes me.”
“Everyone likes you.” I roll my eyes and exhale. “At least I can take the four-wheeler.”
“You’ll actually do it?” Her face lights up. “You’ll show up tonight?”
