Page 46 of The Surrogate Mother
“I didn’t know that.” He’s typing something into his phone as he talks, which is incredibly irritating. What is he saying to her? That his wife is being a bitch? “Seeing what the baby looks like will be enough of a surprise, don’t you think?”
I don’t know what to say. It’s too late to change the fact that Monica blabbed to him. Also, why would she texthimand not me?I’mthe one she works with. I knew her before he did. It’s because of me that all of this is happening.
“So what is it?” I finally ask.
“I thought you didn’t want to know.”
I let out an irritated huff. “Ifyouknow, then I want to know.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes!”
He grins crookedly. “It’s a boy.”
“Oh.”
“We’re going to have a son!” His brown eyes are wide and excited. “Isn’t that incredible?”
His enthusiasm is contagious. I was feeling upset about Monica blowing the secret but he’s right—the important thing is we’re getting a healthy baby. A healthy baby boy! This is really happening—we’re going to be parents soon.
“I love you so much, Abby.” Sam puts down his computer on the coffee table and climbs on top of me. He kisses my neck until my body starts to tingle. “I’m so glad you’re my wife.”
I smile to myself, giving into the wonderful sensation of my husband’s lips on my body. I try to ignore the buzzing of the text messages still coming in on Sam’s phone.
18
Today is our big meeting with Cuddles, and I’m so nervous, I could throw up.
The last time we met with Cuddles, I was nervous but in an excited sort of way. I knew my campaign was incredible, and I felt one-hundred percent confident. Today I feel none of that confidence. My only hope is I can fake it.
Somehow I haven’t been on my game lately though. Ever since the night of that dinner I missed two months ago, it’s like I can’t keep anything straight. Earlier in the week, I completely missed an important meeting even though it was right in my calendar. I misplaced an entire folder of baby photos and had to ask Cuddles to fax them to me again. Denise had to come in to scold me on two separate occasions for not responding to Cuddles’s emails. Also, I became violently ill from some banana pudding baby food I sampled.
I could use another week for this meeting, but that’s not happening. It’s today—like it or not.
Monica has loaded up my presentation on the laptop connected to the projector in the conference room. I have to say, Monica has been a rock star. Given how scatterbrained I’ve been lately, she’s doing an amazing job picking up the slack. Ever since I missed that meeting on Monday, she’s started printing out daily itineraries to leave on my desk in the morning, she’s been highlighting important emails in my inbox, and she’s arranged a gourmet lunch for the Cuddles execs at the meeting.
Yes, she’s still friendly with Sam. He swears they haven’t gotten together again for coffee, but I still see her text messages popping up on his cell phone. Also, her last OB/GYN appointment coincided with a meeting I absolutely couldn’t miss, so Sam ended up accompanying her by himself. I tried not to let it bother me how happy he seemed after that appointment. It’s about the baby—not about Monica.
I’m sitting in the conference room, chugging coffee as I chew on my fingernails, when Jed Cofield and his minions arrive. I’m worried Cofield is going to be cool to me after I missed answering several of his emails, but he comes right over to me and shakes my hand. Although I notice he doesn’t hang onto my hand any longer than necessary.
“Good to see you again, Abby,” he says. He flashes his teeth at me. “I expect you’re going to dazzle me yet again today.”
I do my best to return his smile. “Naturally.”
Confident. Act confident.
I usually don’t even have to tell myself that. It’s become automatic to follow Denise’s lessons to project an image of complete confidence. Even when I start to suspect I’m wrong about something, I’ll plow forward with my shoulderssquared, and you would be amazed how often that’s effective. But today I’m not sure I have it in me.
“I always tell everyone,” Cofield says, “that Abby Adler—she’s the best. You want to sell your product, she’s the one.”
“I appreciate that, Jed,” I say.
And I smile confidently. I should be confident—I have an excellent track record. There’s no reason to doubt myself.
My confidence doesn’t waver again until Denise enters the room. She strides right up to me, her ice-blue eyes regarding me with barely repressed disdain. She’s been witness to every single one of my screw-ups lately, and she’s not impressed.
“Abigail,” she says. “I’ll be in the back to lend my expertise if needed.”
