Honor frowned, looking inside.
“Truth, what?—”
She pulled out the jeans first—designer, the kind she’d been eyeing in the window at the mall for months.
Then the tops.
Then the perfume.
Her eyes went wide.
“Where the hell you get money for this?” she asked, her voice suspicious but curious.
I took a breath.
“I’m doing surrogacy,” I said. “For a rich man.”
Honor stared at me.
“Surrogacy?” she repeated.
“Yeah.”
“Like… carrying somebody else’s baby?”
“Yeah.”
She set the bag on the couch and crossed her arms.
“Truth,” she said slowly. “Are you sure about this?”
“I’m sure.”
“Because you know you love your family down, right? You lovehard. Can you really walk away from a man who’s about to make you a mama and clearly spoils you like this?”
I opened my mouth to respond, but she kept going.
“But a better question is—can you walk away from a child you carried for nine months?”
The words hit me harder than I expected.
I hadn’t thought about it like that.
Not really.
I’d been so focused on the money, on the way out, on surviving—that I hadn’t let myself think about what it would feel like to carry a baby for nine months and then hand it over.
“I don’t know,” I said quietly.
Honor’s face softened.
“I’m not trying to talk you out of it,” she said. “I just want you to be sure. Because once you start this, there’s no going back.”
I nodded.
“I know.”
She studied me for a long moment.
