Page 14 of Royal Surrogate 2

“He used to take our family to a place almost exactly like this,” she says. “The cabin wasn’t as nice.” She smiles, and I swear my pants become three sizes too small.

I shift to cover my discomfort, turning toward her. “Tell me more.”

“We’d catch trout. He’d tell me stories about when he was a boy, and his dad took him to the cabin. How they did the same thing—caught fish, told stories.” She shrugs. “It’s kind of a family tradition.”

“One we can continue with our son,” I say before I realize how it sounds. “If you’d like to, I mean.”

She tilts her head. “Caspar, you’ve been very kind to me. Much kinder than I expected. But I have to go back to Seattle. My dad needs me.”

I frown. “He has the best care in the world, Renae. I’ve seen to that. If there’s more he needs, I’m happy to?—”

“He needsme.” She folds her arms over her chest and looks out over the land. “He’d love it here. Maybe someday we’ll come back and visit you and the child.”

“Ourchild,” I say, almost under my breath.

“I can’t,” she says shaking her head. “You know I can’t.” She doesn’t look at me, still looking over the scenery. “I have to detach myself starting now. If I let myself fall in love with this baby, I’m done for. This isyourbaby.Yourchild.Yours. Not ours. Not mine.”

“Renae…” I let out a long breath, my stomach turning.How do I tell her now?

“Caspar, I’ve thought about this a lot. I really have.” She finally turns to me with a weak smile. “And I’m thankful that you chose me. I know my dad will be, too. Eventually. I think he’ll be mad at me at first, but I don’t care. But I can’t stay. Iwon’tstay.”

It’s then that I realize my brother Xavier is standing just behind Renae. His eyebrows are so high they look like they’ve become part of his hairline, and his jaw has dropped to his chin.

“Renae—”

I don’t get another word out before she rises. She jumps when she sees Xavier behind her. “Oh, hello. Maybeyoucan get it through your brother’s head. Tell him we had a deal. We have a contract. And I intend to honor every word. I’m out of here as soon as this baby is born.”

CHAPTER 13

Renae

I’m not going to cry.

I push past Xavier, just managing to hold myself together. My eyes are burning, but I’d rather not have a breakdown in front of Caspar or his brother.

The cabin doesn’t provide much privacy, either. Lauren is playing with Noah in front of the fireplace, and he squeals when he sees me and wants to show me his toys.

“I…I’ll look at them when I get back,” I say, my voice shakier than I’d like. “I won’t be gone long.” I could probably just lock myself in the bedroom for a little while, but these walls are paper thin, and there’s no way Lauren wouldn’t hear me crying. No, I need complete privacy, just for a few minutes.

By the time I’m out the front door, the tears are starting to leak out the bottom of my eyes. I blink, trying to keep them back just a little bit longer.

There—I thought I’d noticed a little trail leading off into the trees earlier, and now I can see I was right. I take off down the narrow path, letting it lead me into the woods.

Only when I’m out of sight of the cabin do I let the tears fall freely.

Why does he have to do this? I think, propping my hand against a tree for support. He knows this will all be ending in a few months! Why does he insist on making this so hard on me?

Honestly, he’s being selfish—he wants to have his cake and eat it too. He wants to play house, have all the perks of a real marriage, but at the end of the day he still has all the control. This baby is legally his and his alone. Our “marriage” is dictated by the terms of the contract he and his family drew up. I’m just the girl who’s along for the ride.

The sobs are coming harder now, and I choke them back, afraid they’ll be able to hear me back at the cabin. There’s still plenty of light to see by, so I push away from the tree and venture further down the trail, hoping to find a place where I can just sit and let all this out.

I can hear the river up ahead. The ground is sloping downward, but the path is still well-worn and easy to see, so I carefully descend, going slowly wherever the ground isn’t flat. I may be upset, but I haven’t forgotten about the little bean growing inside me—even in my distressed state I’m careful.

The ground flattens out again by the river. I’m still close to the cabin—not even a tenth of a mile away—but the sound of the river will drown out my ugly crying. And there’s probably an hour of daylight left, which is plenty of time for me to get this out of my system before I return and pretend everything is okay again.

Everything will be fine, I tell myself. You can do this. Dad will have a better life. This baby will be raised as a little Montovian lord or lady. Everyone will be better off.

Except me. Despite my efforts to stay detached, I’m more and more convinced with every passing day that my heart will be smashed into a million pieces by the time this is over, and there will be no one there to pick them up. I’ll have given too much of myself to everyone else, and I’ll be left with nothing.

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