Page 14 of Jasper
“Fair enough,” I say. “Can’t imagine this is the kinda thing you ever thought would happen when agreed to be a surrogate.”
She huffs a breath. It’s not a laugh so much as an expression of frustration. “You could say that. I thought I had life all figured out and then got hit with a curveball. I guess, we both did.”
She shifts a little, her legs curling up under her. She’s trying to get comfortable. That’s a good sign. It means she’s open to a long conversation. I can’t help but notice that she’s all kinds of nervous. Or maybe she just doesn’t know how to sit still with a biker popping a squat on her sidewalk and his baby in her belly.
“Are you scared of me?” I ask. Not trying to be mean or rile her up.
She jerks her head towards me. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” I shoot back, not willing to play games.
Her eyes narrow on me. “I don’t even know you.”
“I look rough, but I’m a decent man. Like you already said, I didn’t ask for this either,” I tell her. “But we need to be comfortable enough with each other to talk this out.”
“Yeah,” she tells me boldly, “This is just a lot to take in all at once. If you’d called before coming, we could be sharing a nice burger at local restaurant instead of having an awkward conversation in front of my house.”
“That’s a fair point. I didn’t come here to catch you by surprise or pressure you do anything you don’t want to do,” I say. “I came to see if you were okay and see if we can work something out. That baby in your belly means the world to me. I want to find a way for it to be born.”
She goes quiet again. I’m not surprised she doesn’t trust me. I look like a menace. If I were her, I wouldn’t trust me either. But she reaches into the back pocket of her jeans, pulls out her phone and unlocks it.
“Here,” she says, and slides it across the porch towards me.
I glance down. A thread of text messages.
If you won’t terminate now, we’ll just find someone who actually knows how to do her job.
We can’t pay you if there’s no contract in place anymore.
This is a job. Not your baby.
I hand the phone back without a word.
“That’s the husband. Mrs. Whitmore was much worse in person,” Tessa states quietly.
“Those types always are. Rich people like to throw their money around. It’s the way they leverage the rest of us into doing what they want.”
She sighs, tucking a lock of her hair back behind her ear. “I wanted to say yes. To make it all stop. But…”
“But you didn’t.”
She looks up at me for the first time. Really looks.
“No. I couldn’t.”
“Why?”
Her shoulders rise and fall. “Because I couldn’t stop thinking about it. About this baby inside me. I mean, I’m already three months pregnant. It’s more than just a clump of cells, you know. It’s healthy and growing stronger every day. I hate it that the Whitmores think this child, your child, is disposable. Children shouldn’t be considered disposable simply because their parents aren’t rich.”
“No,” I say. “They shouldn’t. In a perfect world, all children would be loved and cherished by their families. That’s what I’ve got to offer—two grandparents and three brothers who would be thrilled to welcome my child into the world.”
She looks away again, into the yard. The weeds are high along the fence line. There’s an old swing hanging by one chain off a low branch.
“Are you even thinking about keepin’ it?” I ask quietly.
Her mouth pulls tight. “If I do, I lose everything they promised. The money. The medical bills for this pregnancy. Everything I needed for my grandma…”
That stops me cold. “What’s goin’ on with your grandmother?”
