Page 53 of The Surrogate Mother
She rests her hand gently on her belly. “A little tired, but generally pretty good.”
“That’s great.” I chew on my lip, considering my next words carefully. “Do you, um… want to have a seat?”
Monica gives me a funny look, but she settles into the seat across from me. I get up and close the door so we can have some privacy.
“Listen,” I say to her as I settle down into my leatherchair. “I’m sure you realize that it’s becoming very obvious that you’re pregnant.”
“I guess so,” she says.
She bows down her head. I notice for the first time that even though Monica has jet black hair like I do, her roots are pale. One of the selling points when she suggested being a surrogate for me was our similar appearances, but now I’m not sure anymore she’s a natural brunette. Does Monica dye her hair black?
Why on earth would she dye her hair black?
I clear my throat. “So per our arrangement, I think it’s time to resign. I can start looking for replacements for you right away.”
Her eyes fly open. “Resign?”
“Yes,” I say tightly. “That was the agreement. When you started showing, you would resign.”
She stares at me for a moment, her mouth hanging open. “Is this because I came up with a better idea than you at that meeting with Cuddles?”
Ouch. Admittedly, I’ve felt a smoldering resentment toward Monica because of that meeting. Ever since then, Denise has been acting like Monica’s the new office prodigy. I can barely remember the last time I got that kind of mentorship from Denise. At a meeting yesterday, Denise told Monica that she was “really going places” at Stewart Advertising.
“It’s not because of that,” I say quietly. “This was our agreement from the beginning, Monica.”
“But it’s not in the contract.”
“Excuse me?”
“It’s not in the contract,” she repeats. “I said maybe I’d leave, but I didn’t sign anything saying I would definitely leave.”
Now it’s my turn to stare. “But we agreed…”
She shrugs. “Yes, but I changed my mind. I like it here. I want to stay.”
I feel like she just punched me in the gut. I don’t even know what to say. This was our agreement and she’s backing out. It raises the question, what else will she back out of?
“Monica.” I’m trying to keep my voice even. “If you keep working here, I could get in a lot of trouble for our arrangement. It could look like I… that I pressured you into it.”
“Well, maybe you should have thought of that beforehand.” She sticks up her chin. “I don’t want to give up my job, Abby. I shouldn’t have to.”
I want to leap across the desk and shake her, but that would be a bad idea for so many reasons. I have to stay on Monica’s good side. There is so much riding on her.
“If this is really what you want,” I say quietly, “we’ll figure out a way to work it out. We can go to HR and explain the situation. As long as you back me up that I didn’t coerce you into anything.”
I watch Monica’s face. I’m terrified she’s going to refuse to go along with it, but then her lips curl into a smile. “Sure, Abby. Of course.”
Thank God. This is still going to be a total disaster, but maybe there’s a way to mitigate the damage.
_____
I don’t knowwhy I’m so bad at getting envelopes open. Considering how much snail mail I get every day, you’d think I’d have acquired reasonable skill at this. But it feelslike every envelope I open results in a twenty-five percent chance of a serious paper cut.
Where the hell is that letter opener Sam got me?
The top drawer where I usually keep it only has papers in it. I rifle around, trying to find it. Wow, my desk is getting to be a mess. I always used to be so organized, but somehow, the top of my desk has become a hurricane of papers. I don’t know how I let that happen. I’ve got so much on my mind…
I’m still searching for my letter opener when Denise strides into my office without knocking. I look up, and the expression on her face unsettles me. It’s not like Denise doesn’t always seem a little pissed off at me, but right now, she’s got a pink circle on each of her cheekbones and there are veins standing out on her neck.
