Charlie freezes. “What? No.”
“Yes. I was blown away, too. I don’t know, but the offer is serious. They put it in writing, a contract and everything. But it’s something we can talk about another day.”
“I think we will need to talk about that, but wow.”
“Yeah.”
“I fucking love you, D.”
“Me too. Hubby.”
96
DERRICK
Two years later
My life is unrecognizable in all the best ways. We’re settled into our house, the house Charlie bought me on our wedding day. Our home, filled with framed photos and an abundance of throw blankets I refuse to give up, and more candles than a witch. My business has exploded, as has the Wyld Jones boutiques. I also bought the boutique in Moonlight Falls and have turned it into the county’s prom capital, which I love.
But the most significant change is that Charlie and I are having a baby, not one but two, all thanks to Vanessa’s eggs. We debated about taking Vanessa up on her very generous offer or finding someone else, but after Charlie and I had numerous conversations privately with Christian and Vanessa, and a couple of therapy sessions to iron out anything, in the end, there was no reason to say no because they truly wanted to do this for us. We then had the hard task of finding a surrogate, but luckily, an agency found a beautiful woman in LA who was happy to carry twins for us. I wanted a girl, and Charlie wanted a boy, and she got pregnant on the first try and kept them both, which is amiracle. Now we are waiting for the call. It could happen at any moment.
“Derrick!” Charlie screams through the house. “It’s time.”
“Oh my god, it’s time. It’s fucking time,” I scream as we both panic scramble. I had an outfit picked and everything.
Charlie grabs my face. “D, we need to grab the hospital bag.”
I nod. The hospital bag. We just double-checked it only yesterday. “It’s by our bed.” Because for some reason, I thought we would get the call during the night, not during the day. We rush in and grab the duffle bag and rush out, forgetting our keys and nearly locking ourselves out of the house. We quickly grab them and head to the car.
“We need to call people,” I tell him as we head toward the hospital.
“Text everyone,” he tells me.
I pull out my phone and quickly post in all our group chats. “I’m freaking out.”
“Me too,” he confesses.
“We’re going to be dads today.” The enormity hits me. I’m going to be a dad. A dad. “Are you going to be dad, daddy, or what? We haven’t worked out what we are going to be called. The babies need to know our names.”
“D, they can’t speak yet.”
“But they can hear. Don’t you think we should work that out?”
“Breathe, D, we can work that out tomorrow. Let’s just make it to the hospital first and get through the birth,” Charlie says calmly.
Right. Yes. The birth.
“Do I have to watch the babies come out of her?” I ask him.
“You can do what you want. Remember what the agency said,” he reminds me.
He’s right. We have a birth plan.
Twenty minutes later, we screech into the parking lot. Charlie brakes so hard we both fling forward.
“Sorry,” he says, looking guilty, but it’s the thing that makes us burst out laughing, breaking the panicked tension between us. “We are having babies, D. You and me, a real family.”
“Fuck. I hope we don’t mess them up, it kind of feels like an adult should be here with us.”
