Page 41 of The Surrogate Mother
“I’ve got…” I swallow. “I’ve got a doctor’s appointment. I’ll be back soon.”
I’m going to be here till ten o’clock tonight. I just know it.
“Are you ill?” Denise says the words with utter contempt.
“No.” I look away. “It’s just an appointment.”
That’s vague enough. No way can she get an inkling of my arrangement with Monica. In another few weeks, Monica will be resigning, before she starts to show. If Denise found out what we were up to… well, I don’t even want to think about it. It wouldn’t be good.
Thank God, Denise seems to accept this explanation. In any case, she doesn’t physically stop me from leaving. Which is what she’d have to do to keep me from going to this ultrasound.
“By the way,” Denise says. “When you get back, I’d like you to catch up with your correspondence. When Cuddles sends you an email, I expect you to answer within twenty-four hours, if not within the hour.”
“I do.” I glance at a clock on the wall—one-thirty-five.
“They told me several of their emails have gone unanswered.”
What? That can’t be right. I’m obsessive about answering all my emails. Missing one—possible. But several?
I’ll have to check my spam folder when I’m at the doctor’s office.
“I’ll take care of it,” I assure Denise, then I push past her to get to the elevator. I’m not missing anything else because of her. I’m still upset about that dinner I missed last week.
I hail a cab quickly outside the building and make it to the hospital in record time. It’s ten minutes to two, which means I’ve got time to spare.
The waiting area for maternal-fetal medicine is populated with several women in various stages of pregnancy. In the past, seeing a bunch of pregnant women like this would have made me burn with jealousy. I probably would have gone home and sobbed into my pillow,thinking about how unfair it all was. But it’s okay now. I’m part of it.
Monica and Sam are nowhere to be found—I guess I’m the first to arrive. I settled into one of the plastic chairs to wait. A receptionist gives me a funny look. “Can I help you, ma’am?”
I smile, but it feels crooked. “I, uh… I’m meeting someone here.”
The woman arches an eyebrow at me. “Meeting someone?”
“Yes, she’s my…” God, I don’t want to explain this to a stranger. “Monica Johnson.”
“Oh!” The receptionist’s face relaxes as she smiles in recognition. “Yes, she’s just about done.”
Just about… done?
Before I have a minute to mull this over, Sam and Monica burst out of the back. She’s holding a string of black-and-white images, and he’s grinning ear-to-ear. My mouth falls open. What. The. Hell?
“Abby!” Sam waves at me. “You missed it, but we’ve got pictures.”
I jump out of my seat and rush over to them. I don’t want to lose my temper in this waiting room, but I’m furious. How did I miss it? I’m on time! I’mearly! What is going on here?
“How could you be done?” I hiss at him. “The appointment is at two!”
“No,” Sam says patiently. “The appointment was at one.”
I look at Monica, who is no longer smiling. “You told me it was at two,” I say.
She frowns. “I told you one, Abby.”
“You told metwo.” Damn it.
She shakes her head. “I know I told you one. You put it in your calendar—I saw it.”
Bullshit. I reach into my purse and yank out my phone. I bring up the calendar and…
