Page 57 of The Surrogate Mother
“Sam!” I cry. “This has eggshells in it!”
“It does?” He looks down at the meatball, baffled. He takes a tentative bite. “Oh. It does. Damn.”
He looks down at the pot of meatballs, crestfallen. I want to tell him I’m willing to eat them anyway, but I’m not. Crunchy meatballs are not pleasant to eat. Even to spare my husband’s feelings. Plus I’m pretty sure he doesn’t want to eat them either.
“Pizza?” I say.
He sighs. “Sure.”
But before I can grab my phone, Sam reaches out to take my hand. “Hey,” he says.
“Yes?”
His brown eyes meet mine. “I just wanted to say… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gone to lunch with Monica.”
“Oh…”
He squeezes my hand in his. “I figured… well, I didn’t think it was a big deal when she asked me, and honestly, she’s doing so much for us, I felt like I owed her. But then when I was there, I realized it was a mistake. I knew you’d be hurt if you found out, and I felt terrible about it. I felt like an asshole.”
Sam is really good at apologizing. He’s harder on himself than I would ever be on him.
“It’s okay,” I say. “You’re right—it wasn’t that big a deal. I mean, it was just lunch.”
“I won’t do it again. I promise.”
And now I feel guilty for giving him a hard time. “It’s fine.”
I suppose I’m making too big a deal out of all of this. Lunch is lunch—not an affair. Sam wouldn’t do something like that. If there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s that my husband isn’t a cheater. And he’s right—Monica stuck up forme today and saved my job. If she wanted, I could have been clearing out my office as we speak. I suppose it’s not ridiculous that she might want to keep her job. At age twenty-three, you’re allowed to change your mind about your career path.
Everything is going to be fine.
23
“Knock, knock!”
I look up at my office door and see a face peeking in. It takes me a second to recognize Gertie, my old assistant pre-Monica. She hasn’t been back once since she fell on those stairs and broke her hip. She limps into the office, holding a plate of chocolate chip cookies that I can smell all the way across the room. She’s got a cane in the hand that isn’t holding the cookies, and she leans on it heavily as she walks.
I miss Gertie’s cookies. I miss Gertie. I miss having an assistant I’m not worried is making a play for my husband. I don’t care that she didn’t know how to use the fax machine and sometimes even seemed confused by the phone. Right now, I’d give my right arm for another Gertie.
“How are you, Abby?” Gertie beams at me over the plate of cookies. “It’s so great to see you again! You look like you’re hard at work!”
I am hard at work. At this point, I can’t afford any more screw-ups. I’ve been showing up early, taking lunch in my office, and staying later than anyone else. It’s still a littlehard to focus, since my sleep is still not great, even with my new prescription for sleeping pills, but I’m doing the best I can.
“Yeah,” I say. “What can I say—I’m lost without you, Gertie.”
Her face softens. “I heard what happened. About, you know… the adoption falling through. I’m so sorry. That must have been awful.”
“Yes,” I agree. If only Janelle hadn’t changed her mind. We’d have a baby right now, and I’d probably be exhausted like I am now, but a good kind of exhausted. “I’m okay though. We’re… uh, adopting from someone else.”
No need to get into the details.
She places the plate of cookies down on my desk and clasps her hands together. “Oh, that’s so wonderful to hear! You’re going to be a great mom, Abby. I just know it.”
“Thanks.” I manage a smile. “Anyway, have a seat. How is your hip feeling?”
Gertie settles gingerly into a chair in front of my desk and rests her cane against my desk. “Good days and bad days. I’m on my feet again, and that’s what’s important.”
“Absolutely. You look great.”
