It’s so unfair.
Suddenly, more than anything, she wanted to get out of this office. It was unbearable, sitting here, knowing that she had come in so full of excitement and hope and that everything had turned so quickly. Thinking about the way she had woken up this morning, expecting today to be the day that would change her life, was like holding her hand in boiling water. It was a shocking hurt, and she flinched away from it.
My life is changing, all right, but not in the way I expected. Just about the furthest thing possible from that.
The tears were flowing more heavily now, and though she would have liked to wait until they subsided to try to leave the building, she had a feeling that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. It would be better to get out quickly. Then she could sit in her car and cry this out until she felt together enough to drive home.
She gathered her purse, shoving the pamphlet she’d been reading inside, even though she was tempted to leave it behind. She didn’t see how she could bear to look at it after today. And yet, there was a part of her — a stupid, incautious part — that still hoped. That still believed this would all work out in her favor somehow, that her dream would still come true, even though right now it seemed impossible. That part of her couldn’t throw the pamphlet away. She still might need it.
Unable to raise her eyes from the ground, she opened the door and let herself out of Dr. Montgomery’s office. The fertility clinic was a small one, thankfully, and quiet. The waiting room had been empty when she’d come in, so she had hope that she would be able to get out of here without anyone seeing her, without having to explain her tears. If any of the staff saw that she was crying, surely they would leave her alone. After all, if Dr. Montgomery was anything to go by, they saw this sort of thing every day.
“Do you need to set a follow-up appointment?” a nurse asked as she hurried past.
“N-no, thank you,” Chelsea stuttered, hating the words, hating that she had to say no instead of yes.
“Give us a call if you need anything,” the nurse called after her, and Chelsea felt sick.Just get me out of here.
She rounded the corner into the hall that would take her back to the waiting room — and collided hard with someone.
CHAPTER 5
MILES
“Look,” Miles said to the doctor in front of him, “I don’t know if I’ve made myself completely clear — money is no object here. Whatever it costs, I’m willing to pay it.”
“I understand that,” Dr. Barroway told him. The man must have been in his seventies. He spoke with a wheeze, and he sounded tired, as if he might have had this conversation a dozen times in the past. As if he could predict everything Miles was going to say. “Money isn’t the issue. This is a complicated procedure, and it takes time.” He settled back in his chair, clearly indicating that time was of no particular concern to him.
“But I’m in a hurry,” Miles said, gripping the arms of his chair. It was maddening to see this man look so calm when he was feeling so frantic.
He supposed most of his feelings had more to do with this father’s condition than with the things he had come here to discuss. He was still distraught from yesterday’s hospital visit. He would be going back there after he finished up here and had some lunch, and he knew he’d feel better about it if he hadsomething good to report to his father. Even if the good thing in question was going to have to be a lie.
Dr. Barroway raised his eyebrows. “You’re in a hurry to have a surrogate carry a child for you? What’s the rush?”
“I told you already. My father is ill.” He sat forward in his chair. “The only thing he wants from me is a grandchild, and I have to give him that. The trouble is that time has now become a factor, and I don’t know how much of one it will be. All I know is that I can’t afford to wait. This has to happen, and it has to happen now.”
“Well, I can’t condone anyone rushing into parenthood over something like that, although you certainly have my condolences,” Dr. Barroway said. “You have to think about what would be best for a child, not just for you and your father.”
Miles resented the implication that he hadn’t thought it through. He tried to control his agitation. “I’m not just doing this because of my father,” he said more calmly, though it was a borderline lie. “I always planned to have a child. The timeline is the only thing that’s changed.”
Hadhe always planned on having a child? The truth was that he wasn’t sure. If it hadn’t been for his father mentioning that he wanted an heir for the company, would Miles have even thought of children?
How much of my life would be completely different without his influence, though? That’s always the question, and the answer is that it’s probably almost everything. But Dad’s influence has always worked out for the best before, and I’m not going to start doubting him now.
He turned his attention back to the doctor, his resolve giving him the control he needed to continue. “My father’s illness means that I need to find a way to do this promptly, especially since I’m not married,” he said. “That’s why I’m here today. But I’ve always wanted to become a father. That part is nothing new.”
“Well, be that as it may, it takes time to find a suitable person, time to agree on the legalities, and then there’s the implantation process, which isn’t always successful on the first attempt. These are problems money can’t solve, Mr. Aspin, no matter how much you have to offer.”
“What can we do, then?” Miles asked. “I want to start this process today. Immediately. I don’t know how long my father has, and I have no time to waste.”
What he didn’t say — what he couldn’t say — was that he had already promised his father a child. Dr. Barroway was already skeptical of him. The man would probably throw him out in disgrace if he realized Miles was the kind of man who lied about something like this, that he was only rushing to get it done so his father wouldn’t catch him in his fib and realize that Miles had been dishonest.
I can’t stand that I lied to him on what might be his deathbed. The only way to fix things now is to make the lie true.
Miles had made his father a promise. In nine months, he needed to be able to deliver on that promise, so the timeline was already unbearably fine. He had to get started immediately. The months of work Dr. Barroway was describing simply weren’t going to be an option for him. They’d have to find another way. There was always another way. There was always something that could be done. Dr. Barroway was simply going to have to figure it out.
“I’ll begin the search for a surrogate who meets your needs,” Dr. Barroway said. “We want to prioritize confidentiality?”
“Yes, she can’t go public with this.” Gold Standard didn’t need that kind of press, and besides, he couldn’t risk his father finding out the truth of what had happened. “The public story will be that my child’s mother — an anonymous woman — simply didn’t want to be involved in the parenting, and that I decided to be a single father.”
