Page 2 of Surprise Quadruplets for the Mob

“Thank you.” Her teary eyes are showing gratitude and something else—a glimmer of hope, maybe. “I want to believe we can. I just—”

“We don’t have to come up with a solution right this second,” I interrupt before she can let the despair take hold again. “Doyou want me to make some tea? Some of that chamomile stuff you like?”

“Sure.” Maggie nods weakly, wiping at her tears with the back of her hand. “That would be nice, thanks.”

I head to the kitchen, giving her some space while I prepare the tea. I really don’t know what we’re going to do. Not only is Maggie quite a bit older than I am—she’s thirty-eight while I’m barely twenty-two—but then there’s her battle with autosomal recessive polycystic kidney disease to take into consideration. The ARPKD makes it nearly impossible for her to have a child of her own.

No matter how optimistic I’m trying to be, the odds of Maggie getting pregnant and carrying a child to term aren’t on our side. I wish Michael, Maggie’s husband, was here to comfort her in all the ways a sister simply can’t. But he’s away on business, so there’s just me, my optimism, and this chamomile tea for now.

“Tea’s ready,” I announce, bringing two steaming cups into the living room.

Maggie takes a cup gratefully, her hands shaking slightly as she clutches it. “Thanks. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You won’t ever have to find out, either.” I huff out an exasperated breath as I flop down beside her. “It’s just not fucking fair, you know?”

“Tell me about it.” There’s a tinge of bitterness creeping into her voice, and I don’t blame her. Not even a little. “My body betrays me. The whole adoption process fucks me over. And what can I do about it? Nothing. Not a damn thing.”

“Michael will be home soon,” I say, trying to offer her some comfort. “We’ll all put our heads together to figure something out.”

“Will we? I don’t know if I can handle any more disappointment, Abby. This is why I don’t trust the universe enough to get my hopes up anymore. It always crushes me in the end.”

The universe had been anything but kind to her over the years. Yes, she still had a lot to be thankful for—a loving husband, friends and family, a beautiful house—but that isn’t what she needs to hear right now. Not when her lifelong dream has just been crushed. Again.

Those dark circles under her eyes are looking even darker now that she’s been crying, and I’m really worried about what this latest setback will do to her. Not just physically, but mentally as well.

“I know you probably don’t want to see a doctor,” I begin, choosing my words carefully. “But it might not hurt to talk to someone else about everything, you know? Someone professional?”

Her eyes narrow and I know she’s going to reject the idea even before she opens her mouth. “I appreciate your concern, but I don’t need a doctor. I just need some time to process everything.”

I nod. “That’s totally valid. I get it. You know I just worry about you. But there has to be something we can do. Something we haven’t considered yet.”

She exhales a long breath and shakes her head. “I’ve already considered everything. Every possibility under the sun. Trust me.”

“What about surrogacy?” I ask, the idea tumbling out as soon as it forms in my brain.

“Been there, done that. Too expensive and—”

“No,” I interrupt, continuing my train of thought before I can talk myself out of it. “What if I was your surrogate?”

Her answer is immediate. “No. No way. I couldn’t ever ask you to do something like that.”

“You’re not asking. I’m offering. I’m young. I’m healthy. I can handle it. And besides, I want to help. I know you’d do the same for me if our situations were reversed.”

“I would,” she admits quietly, fresh tears welling up all over again. “But I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you because of me. You’re the only sibling I have left. We can’t risk it.”

I understand her hesitancy, but I’m growing more determined by the minute now that I’m thinking it through. “Nothing bad is going to happen. We’ll find the best doctors, the best specialists. Your husband’s a wealthy politician and you’re head of the Owen Foxworthy Foundation. Between the two of you, you’ll be able to handle any financial hiccup that my broke ass can’t manage.”

She snorts and sends me a small, watery smile. “You’re not that broke, Abby, not for someone fresh out of college.”

I smile back, glad to have at least lifted her spirits a little. “That’s thanks to you hiring me on the PR team and keepingme from selling my soul to unpaid internships and night shifts at take-out joints.” She opens her mouth, but I continue quickly. “Maggie, please. This isn’t going to affect me negatively, especially since you’ll give me excellent maternity leave.”

Her lips lift in another small smile, and I shift closer so I can catch her eye. “We’ll make sure everything is done right. And then you’ll have the baby you’ve always wanted.”

She swallows hard. “I don’t know.”

“I do. I love you, and I want you to have the family you’ve always dreamed of. And I meant it when I said I’d do whatever it takes to help you get there.”

A sob escapes as she reaches for my hand. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

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