Page 5 of The Surrogate Nanny

“You didn’t mention a wife or girlfriend. Do you plan on being a single father?”

I nodded. “I do.”

“Why?”

Present

“I have to get out of here!” I shouted, throwing the blanket off me.

“Sir, you have to stay in bed!” the nurse exclaimed, attempting to wrestle me back in bed.

“My daughter. I-I have to get to my daughter.”

“You have a daughter? That’s great news. You came in as John Doe because your identification was lost in the crash. What is your name?”

“Anthony...Anthony Powell.”

“That’s good, Mr. Powell. Can I call your daughter?”

“No...she’s a newborn. I-I was on my way back to Texas from a last-minute business trip, and then everything went black. My surrogate was a few weeks from giving birth. I need to call her. Where is my cell phone?”

“Lost in the crash with your other belongings.”

I ignored the throbbing pain in my leg and snatched the bedside phone into my lap. My fingers sped over the plastic numbers as I dialed Simone. I knew her phone number by heart. I’d called it enough with my daily check-ins and random pregnancy-related questions.

The number you’ve dialed is not in service. Please hang up and try your call again.

“Fuck!” I yelled after trying the number three more times. My next call was to Jonathan.

“This is Jonathan Baker.”

“Jonathan!”

“Anthony? Is that you?” Jonathan gasped.

“Yes.”

“What the hell happened to you? You disappeared off the face of the Earth. I’ve been looking for you!”

“I was in a car accident and woke up today from a year-long coma.”

“My God. Are you okay?”

“No. My face and leg are fucked up, and I missed my daughter’s birth.”

“Your daughter’s birth? Anthony...what the hell are you talking about? What daughter?” I screwed my eyes closed as nausea overwhelmed me. “What daughter, Anthony?” Jonathan demanded.

“I-I didn’t tell you, but...I did it.”

“What did you do?”

“Nearly two years ago, I hired a surrogate.”

The line fell silent. “You have got to be—of all the irresponsible things you could’ve done! First, you hire a surrogate, keeping your best friend, who happens to be a lawyer, out of the loop. Then you go on an emergency last-minute business trip without telling me where you’re going or how long you’ll be gone. Your employer has been giving me the run around for a year, and their legal department is colder than the Arctic Circle. I’ve filed missing person’s reports, called hospitals—”

“I appreciate that, Jonathan. I do, but I need you to find my child.”

Jonathan exhaled loudly from the other end. “What is the mother’s name?”

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