Page 3 of The Surrogate Nanny

What if the man had a breeding kink? What if he got off on impregnating women and then abandoning them?

“H-he told me to call day or night,” I whimpered softly, feeling tears prick behind my eyes. “He said he’d answer, but he’s not....”

My eyes were drawn to the baby again. She cried loudly from the transparent plastic crib with no name. While I was distracted, someone taped a pink baby elephant at the foot of the crib with the words “Baby Livingston” scrawled on it with her height and weight.

She’s not a Livingston. She’s a Powell. I can’t get too close. What if I get a whiff of her intoxicating baby scent as I hold her in my arms, only for him to appear and snatch her away from me?

“Are you going to feed her? The baby needs to make skin-to-skin contact soon, to form an attachment—”

“Formula. There’s...formula.” I nodded to the diaper bag that sat abandoned in a nearby chair. It was my gift to the new father. The red-headed nurse shot me a look of pure disdain before preparing the bottle. Her attitude did little to ruffle my feathers. I had fallen into a content bliss while I stared at Baby Powell. I was in awe of how adorable she was in the hospital-provided onesie. It had tiny turtles on it and didn’t quite fit her. She was a little on the smaller side, but they assured me she was still a healthy weight.

I wanted to adjust her cap that slipped down her forehead, and I wondered what color her hair was. I wanted to hold her as I had for nine months, but I couldn’t get attached to a baby that wasn’t mine.

***

One day lapsed into two without a word from Anthony. Her father had gone AWOL, and the social worker was planning to put Baby Powell into foster care.

“A beautiful baby deserves a beautiful name, don’t you think?” Nurse Tanya asked with a soft smile. “Are you ready to name her?”

Am I ready? Can I do this?

I gave birth to this baby, expecting to hand her off, but after two days of waiting for him, I realized I was on my own.

I swallowed roughly and eased her out of her plastic crib. She cooed gently in my arms. And why shouldn’t she? I was her home, after all—the only thing she’d known. We only had each other. I smiled and stroked her face.

Am I ready?

“Nori. Nori Livingston. That’s her name,” I whispered. Nori looked into my eyes just as I said her name as if to tell me I was making the right choice.

She’s mine.

Chapter Two

Anthony

“Sir? Sir? Can you hear me?” a voice called out before shaking me gently. My eyes fluttered open before snapping shut again. The lights were too bright, and a searing pain shot through my right leg. Reflexively, I clutched it and quickly released it. “Sir? Can you hear me?”

“Y-” I paused to clear my throat. “Yes...I can hear you,” I rasped.

“Can you open your eyes for me?” I complied and was face-to-face with a cherub-faced nurse. “There are those pretty gray eyes,” she sang as she shined her flashlight pen in each eye.

“Where am I?”

“You’re at West Saint Memorial Hospital.”

“Why? What happened to me?” I asked, starting to panic.

“You were in a pretty nasty accident, Sir. You were t-boned by an 18-wheeler and ejected from the vehicle. It’s a wonder you survived.” I reached for my leg again but thought twice, not wanting to relive the agonizing pain. “How much pain are you in on a scale of 1-10?”

“10 squared.”

“Oh, no, sugar. Don’t worry. I have something that’ll turn that frown upside down.” A moment later, I held a clicker in my hand. “This is your morphine drip. Don’t get trigger-happy with it, if you know what I mean. It’ll be harder to wean you off when it’s time to discharge you. Use it responsibly and as needed.” I tested the waters with one click, then two. I closed my eyes and sighed when the pain began to dull. “Is that better?”

I nodded sluggishly. “Much better.”

“Good. Let me get you some water. You sound like you’ve been swallowing sand.”

The chatty nurse poured water from a pink plastic pitcher into its matching cup and handed it to me. I gulped the cooling liquid down and demanded more. “Can you tell me about my injuries?” I asked, accepting another cup.

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