Page 32 of The Last Trip

“She won’t.”

“She won’t, to which one?”

“Either one.”

She presses her lips together in frustration. “You don’t know that.”

I rush around the table, taking her hands. “Do you trust me?”

Her eyes waver.

“Do you trust me?” I repeat.

Finally, she nods slowly, her eyes filled with tears. “Yes.”

“Then trust me when I say I’ve got this. I’m going to fix it. She will give us a baby—ourbaby—and then our family will be complete.”

“You wanted a whole family, lots of kids.” She’s crying now. “This doesn’t fix anything. I’m doing everything I can, everything you and the doctor said. I want to do this for you. I want to give you everything you’ve dreamed of.”

“One will be enough,” I tell her. It’s a painful change to an already perfect plan, but the only one I’m willing to make. “I can be happy with just one.”

Finally, she stops crying. “She doesn’t know you’re married?”

“I don’t think so, no.” I stopped wearing my ring in class months ago, but Janelle doesn’t need to know that.

“And she won’t get hurt?”

Always thinking about others.“No, of course not.”

She sniffles, drying her eyes. “Well, what’s her name? I want to look her up. I want to know her.”

I smile, my heart seizing. She’s on board. It actually worked. “Her name’s Sadie Hawthorne, and let me tell you, Ellie, she’s absolutely perfect.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

HIM — BEFORE

When class ends the next day, I ask Sadie to stay behind. She strolls up to my desk with her books in hand. She’s older than the other kids in class, already in her thirties, but still young and sturdy enough to be a decent incubator for my baby.

“Professor?” she asks, studying me.

She’s attractive in a sort of dowdy way. Dull brown hair, but it’s thick and healthy enough to tell me she eats a well-rounded diet, though her body type says she doesn’t indulge. A perfect balance. Her fringe bangs are a bit overgrown, but not so much that it tells me she doesn’t take care of herself. She hardly wears makeup and never paints her nails, which is good—fewer chemicals—and her clothing isn’t ostentatious or attention-seeking. She blends in and is easily forgettable, which will work in my favor should things get ugly, but she’s still…attractive. She has a pretty face, nice features. The sort of features I wouldn’t mind staring at on a child for the rest of my life.

“Hello, Sadie. I wanted to ask how you’re liking the class so far.” I stand from my seat, moving around to lean against the front of the desk so my leg is close to her. When she doesn’t shy away, I nudge my knee a bit closer, testing my boundaries.

“Oh.” She appears shocked by the question. “I like it very much. I love reading, but I don’t pick up the classics often, so I’ve enjoyed challenging myself.”

“What’s your major?” I ask, as if I care. She’s smart, I know. She’ll be going for something ambitious, obviously. Women who don’t want kids are like that. Always looking for something else to fill the hole inside themselves.

“I’m double majoring in business and marketing,” she says. “Someday I want to run my own PR firm.”

“And yet you found yourself in a literature class.”

She purses her lips. “And yet.” With a chuckle, she adds, “I actually would love to do PR for publishers and authors, kind of the merging of my two favorite worlds.” Her fingers link together as if fusing her hands in front of her to further illustrate her point.

“Ahh, I see. And here I thought you were just here because of the hot professor.”

Her eyes go wide as she processes what I’ve said. “Oh.”

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