Page 88 of The Surrogate Mother
Gertie looks up from her own plate of eggs. “Are you expecting someone, Abby?”
I shake my head no. Maybe this time it really is the police. I wipe my mouth with the napkin Gertie brought me, then get to my feet to check the door. When I see Monica standing in front of the door, I nearly pretend not to be home.
I don’t want to be alone with Monica. Mrs. Johnson’s terrifying stories are still ringing in my ears. I don’t trust that woman for a second. She almost certainly killed Denise in cold blood.
But then again, Gertie is here. She wouldn’t try anything in front of a witness.
Would she?
I turn the locks on the door and crack it open, but keep the chain in place. Monica looks stunning in a bright red dress, with her black hair silky and loose around her shoulders, but my eyes are immediately drawn to her belly. God, she’s gotten huge. She’s got to be ready to have the baby any day now.
“What are you doing here?” I snap at her.
“Could you please let me in?” She clutches her belly with both hands. “We need to talk.”
“Oh, do we?”
She hesitates. “Sam asked me to come here and speak with you.”
“Who is it?” Gertie calls from the dining table.
I stare through the crack at Monica, who looks like she’s just struggling to stay upright at this point. Monica might be dangerous at her worst, but I don’t think she is right now. I could probably take her, even if she had a knife. Or a letter opener. And anyway, Gertie is here—it would be two against one.
“Fine.” I close the door, unhook the chain, then throw it open for her. “Come on inside.”
Monica waddles into the apartment. Well, she sort of waddles. Even though she’s very pregnant, her gait is not entirely ungraceful. I wonder what Sam thinks of it all. I’m sure he thinks she looks incredibly sexy. He’s clearly having sex with her, because he and I haven’t had sex in a month.
Monica notices Gertie sitting at the dining table and stops short. “I didn’t realize you had company.”
“Oh!” Gertie struggles to her feet. “I could go if you’d like, Abby.”
“No,” I say quickly. It makes me feel safe that Gertie is here, even though she’s an old woman with a cane. “Please stay.”
Gertie glances at Monica, hesitating. Maybe it’s selfish of me to ask Gertie to stay, especially if Monica is the one who pushed her down the stairs. I don’t want to put Gertie’s life in danger. But no, it will be fine. Monica won’t try anything with both of us here.
“I’ll tidy up in the kitchen,” she finally decides.
Monica settles into one of the chairs while Gertie hobbles into the kitchen, out of earshot. Monica flips her black hair over her shoulder, and once again, I catch a glimpse of her pale roots. Her dark eyes meet mine and I shudder involuntarily.
“Sam had an early class this morning, but I promised him you and I would have a heart to heart.” Her smile doesn’t touch her eyes. “Things have gotten a little out of control, don’t you think?”
I stare down at my plate of eggs. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“I don’t have to tell you that your behavior last night was very upsetting to Sam, Abby.” She clucks her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “Searching through his phone? Not very classy.”
I lift my chin. “I had just cause.”
She’s quiet for a moment. “Yes,” she finally says. “I suppose you did.”
Her answer doesn’t make me feel any better. “What do you mean by that?”
“I think you know the answer to that,” she says quietly.
I raise my eyes. “What?”
“Abby,” she says. “It’s over.”
I stare at her. “Excuse me?”
