Page 44 of The Surrogate Mother
She smiles crookedly. “Well, she looks like you. So I’m assuming that’s his type.”
Good point. I never thought of Sam as having a “type,” because he rarely comments on other women or talks about old girlfriends. I’ve never even seen photos of the women he dated before me. But he asked me out so quickly after we met, there must have been something that drew him to me immediately.
And yes, Monica looks like me. Except younger. And curvier. And pregnant with his kid.
“Also,” I say, “they’re texting each other.”
“They are?”
I nod. “I saw a text from her pop up on his screen this morning.”
“What did it say?”
“Um.” I think for a minute. “I think she was thanking him for sending her a math paper she liked.”
“Well, that’s pretty innocent.”
“But how is she so into math all of a sudden?” I stir the ice listlessly in my Diet Coke. “She wanted to go to school for graphic art to become a creative director, and now somehow she knows all about matrices and cokernels, whatever the hell those are.”
“I don’t think Sam is going to be overcome by passion while talking aboutmath.” She snorts. “Actually, I take that back. Maybe he would.”
“Haha.”
“I don’t know, Abby.” She shrugs. “It sounds like the texts are pretty innocent. But if you’re not sure…”
I frown at her. “What?”
“Do you have the code for Sam’s phone?”
My mouth falls open. “I’mnotgoing to spy on my husband!”
“It’s not spying. It’s snooping.”
I do have the code for Sam’s phone. But I don’t intend to do anything with it. “I’m not doing that, Shelley.”
“Well, then you really don’t know how innocent it is, do you?”
I don’t like the direction this conversation is going in.
“I mean, really, Monica hasn’t actually done anything wrong, has she?” I crunch miserably on a chip. “After all, it’s my own fault I messed up the time for the ultrasound.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
“What does that mean?”
“Well,” she says thoughtfully, “doesn’t Monica have access to your calendar? Couldn’t she tell you the wrong time, wait for you to put it in your calendar, then swap it out for the correct time so you look like an idiot when you show up?”
My mouth falls open. “Do… do you really think she’d do that?”
Shelley shrugs. “Maybe. Maybe not.”
And then there’s that morning meeting I was supposed to have with the Cuddles people that I didn’t know about. Is it possible Monica could be responsible for that?
“I don’t know, Shel,” I say. “That’s a little too diabolical. I can’t imagine Monica doing that.” I pause. “Can you?”
She’s quiet for several seconds while I hold my breath. Finally, she says, “I guess not.”
I let out my breath. I’m glad she doesn’t think so, because I couldn’t possibly take away Monica’s access to my calendar. She’s my assistant—a large part of her job is making sure my calendar is updated and accurate. I have to trust her.
