Page 43 of Nine Month Contract
The tech prints off ultrasound pictures and hands them to Wyatt and his mom. They gush over the photos and begin talking about the nursery plans. I disassociate from them to stare up at the goat turd on the screen.
There it is. The thing making my breasts feel like foreign objects. Hard to believe something so small can make such an impact on so many. Not everyone gets lucky enough to have a family who cares about them before they’re born. But it looks like this kid growing inside me will.
Good for little goat turd.
All that matters to me is that I did the job I was hired to do. I have a little more job security today than yesterday, and I’m one step closer to my happily ever after with animals…not babies.
WeeksPregnant:9
AnimalsonMountain:2
The next couple of weeks are odd. None of the prep work I did for this surrogacy situation equipped me for what it would be like to have my surrogate living on my property. And I realize it’s not uncommon for intended parents to pay for surrogate housing, but most don’t have them live literally next door to them. So yeah, this is an unusual situation. But when the only woman who came into your life and felt right for the job of being a surrogate happens to have a potbellied pig, I guess it called for an unusual answer.
And I’ve really grown to hate the word “surrogate.” Ever since my mom said it in the hospital, I started loathing the term. It feels so impersonal and medical. The woman living in my barn is anything but “Trista the Surrogate” or a “belly buddy babysitter.” She’s happy, easygoing, and has this odd way of existing in my life like she’s always been here.
With that said, she can also be maddening as fuck. She doesn’t let me do anything for her. Like anything. I can’t fill Reginald’s water trough or muck out his pen. I can’t pick up food for her, even when I text her to let her know I’m picking up food for myself. She’s keeping a safe distance between the two of us, and after how fucked up my brain was during our sundown sessions, maybe that’s for the best.
But when she demanded to drive her own car to the hospital in Boulder for our first ultrasound, that’s when she went too damn far. The economic inefficiency of both of us driving to and from the same place made me see fucking red. And then, she let my mom come into the exam room. Where the fuck did that come from?
Like I said…maddening.
Although admittedly, my irritation with her disappeared the moment that baby’s heartbeat erupted in the room like a galloping horse, and I saw the look on my mom’s face. Her grief has been hard for me and my brothers to manage. We all miss Dad, but no one more than her. The gift Trista gave her of having that special moment with me was something I didn’t expect but will forever be grateful for. I just wish Trista was better at letting me show my appreciation.
“Yo!” Calder interrupts my thoughts as his pickup stops in front of my house. “Let’s roll, Papa Bear.”
I jog down my porch steps with my lunch box and coffee in hand, but my eyes drift over as I notice Trista’s vehicle parked in front of the barn. It’s after nine. She’s usually long gone for work by now.
“What’s your deal?” Luke calls over from the passenger seat as I pause in front of the driver’s door, resting my elbow on the open window to look for any signs of life above the barn.
“Trista is still here,” I state with a frown.
“So what?” Calder shrugs.
“I wonder if she’s sick or something.”
Luke makes a peculiar noise from inside the truck. “Bro, you are level-ten stalking that girl now.”
“No, I’m not,” I growl, turning my lethal eyes on him. Luke was over the other night and giving me shit for how often I glanced out at the barn. “I just keep an eye on her. She’s a single woman driving to Denver every day for work. She doesn’t talk about any boyfriends or friends, except her girlfriend Avery, who she often helps out after work. But I have no clue if anyone is actually looking out for her. And she’s carrying precious cargo these days, so I’ll fucking watch her if I want to watch her.”
“Holy fuck,” Calder gapes at me, his stupid face looking reallypunchable this morning. “That’s the most words I’ve heard you say consecutively in, like…my whole damn life. Maybe you’re the one who’s sick.” He reaches out to put the back of his hand on my forehead, and I swat him away.
“Why don’t you guys go on ahead,” I say, making my way toward the barn. “I’ll meet you at the jobsite later.”
“You hate driving two cars into town,” Calder argues, looking seriously disturbed. “You say it’s bad for the environment. You literally started a Fletcher Mountain Google calendar for our schedules so we could combine as many trips to town as possible.”
“Will you get fucked?” I hiss and kick rocks at his truck wheel.
He laughs and shakes his head before pulling away. I don’t care what they say—it’s normal for me to look out for her. She’s living on my property, carrying my baby. This isn’t stalking. This is caring. I’m like a protective father of sorts.
But I do not look at Trista like she’s my daughter.
If I’m ever fatherly to her, it sure as fuck better be in a sexy daddy sort of way.
I make my way through the barn and glance into the pig’s pen to notice he still hasn’t been fed. That’s definitely not like Trista. She usually feeds him before I get down to feed Millie, even if the lazy bastard doesn’t crawl off his mattress until damn near eleven most days.
Anxiety spikes in my veins as I take the wooden steps two at a time up to her apartment door. I knock loudly and call out to her. When there’s no answer for several minutes, I try the door and sigh with relief when I find it unlocked. Slowly, I open it, calling her name as I head inside. I haven’t been up here since she moved in, doing my best to give her space like she clearly wants.
Glancing around, I can’t help but notice it’s kind of a mess. There are dirty dishes in the sink, half-unpacked boxes everywhere, and am I seeing things, or did a fucking rabbit just scamper across the living room and burrow under her bed?
