“Yes.” My thumbs hover over the keyboard, wanting to add additional context, but…how can I summarize my complicated feelings? In the end, I decide my feelings don’t matter. It’s really about Richard’s reaction. “He was neutral.”
“Phew.”
I give his relieved response a thumbs-up. I agree. Neutral was always the best-case scenario.
“See you Thursday?” he asks, meaning the prenatal appointment. Another thumbs-up.
Do I want to spill my heart out to him about Richard’s barbed comments and implied threats? About my hopes and fears for my kids? Yes. I’m dying to confide in him. But I’m not stupid. The more Irely on Ian for emotional support now, the more I’m going to miss him when he’s gone.
Six hours later, I’m in the guest room, sobbing on a video call with my mom. All she has to do is ask how the baby shower went, and I lose it.
“It was b-b-beautiful. I b-b-brought persimmons,” I choke out.
She frowns, peering at the screen over her crochet project. “What’s wrong with you? Are you inbed?”
What can I say? I grasp for excuses, and none of them fit. Why am I such a mess? Oh, right, the bucket of first trimester hormones coursing through me.
“I’m p-p-pregnant,” I blubber, unable to lie any more. I don’t know why I thought I could keep this all secret from her. I tell her pretty much everything that goes on in my life. Even when I was a teenager, I’d tell on myself, whether I’d kissed a boy or broken one of her dishes.
She sits back so she’s at a weird angle from her tablet camera, but the half of her face that I can see has gone eerily still. “Hm,” she says. That’s it, justhm. She’s not happy.
“I know I’m too old,” I start, my tears drying.
She shakes her head, interrupting me. “It’s not that. I just had hopes for you. They were my hopes, really.”
“What?”
“That you might not be so tied tohimonce Soo-Min and Eun-Min graduate.” She moves back into frame. “But it’s not the end of the world. You’ll be fine. I’ll come help you when the baby is born.”
Shit. If I’m going to tell my mother part of the truth, I have to tell her the whole truth. I sigh, bracing for the force of her disapproval. “It’s not Richard’s.”
Her mouth drops open, and then a broad smile curves across her face. Her head tips back, and she laughs. Not the reaction I was expecting. “Not his?! Whose, then?”
“I’m a surrogate for Ian. The wulver friend?” I explain. “It turns out I’m his fated mate, and he can’t have kids with anyone else. I wanted him to have a chance at fatherhood, so…I agreed to carry his pups.” She doesn’t need to know about the insemination method, or about the way his amber eyes make my stomach flutter and my thighs clench. Some things my mom doesn’t need to hear. I add, in case she’s wondering, “Richard doesn’t mind.”
“Congratulations,” Eomma says, her eyes twinkling like she knows a joke I don’t. “How far along are you?”
“Not far. I’m bad at keeping secrets.”
She nods knowingly, and we share a chuckle. “So you fed his family persimmons, huh? What did they think?”
“They ate them all.”
“I meant what did they think of you?” She goes back to her crochet, the yarn’s little movements hypnotic as she loops and hooks, loops and hooks.
“They were nice.” I shrug, swiping the drying tears off my cheek with a tissue. “It doesn’t matter. Once the pup is born, that will be that.”
“Hm,” she says again in the same tone. The one that says she doesn’t agree with what I’ve said.
“What?”
“Nothing. When should I come to help with the baby?”
I swallow hard. I won’t need her help with any babies… But Iwillneed her help. I’ll need someone to cry with. “Come when the girls do in January, like we talked about.”
She holds up her crochet project, just a white, lacy corner. “This could be a baby blanket,” she says, eyeing me for a reaction.
Now it’s my turn to say, “Hm.”
