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Of course, the fact that I am in fact pregnant with Dmitri’s baby doesn’t exactly lend itself to a denial.
So I’m worried about myself, but I’m also worried about Bee. Her scars will forever be imprinted into my head. So pink. So many. So heartbreaking.
“This baby isn’t actually mine,” I hear myself saying like a fool. “I’m a surrogate.”
A dark flicker tears across his eyes. “A surrogate?”
I want nothing more than to backpedal to some other, simpler story, but now that I’m here, there’s no going back. “Yep, surrogate. That’s me. Like she told you, Bee wanted an assistant who could go through the pregnancy process right along with her. The timing just worked out.”
He clicks his tongue thoughtfully. “My daughter did always have strange ideas.” He scrubs a hand at his chin. “Well, it’s a busy day and there is lots to do. I’m sure I’ll see you around, little bird.”
God, I hope not.
He leaves me gripping the side of the crib to tether myself to reality and saunters away down the stairs. By the time I calm down, my palms are sweaty and I’m so beyond done with this shopping trip.
Luckily, Dmitri doesn’t force me into another store; he just drives us home in silence with the car as empty as it was when we left this morning.
When we get back to the Muse, I find Bee in my room, unloading endless armfuls of clothing on my bed. T-shirts, shorts, leggings, the works.
“What’s that for?” I ask in surprise.
She shrugs. “Let’s just say I understand the need for comfy home clothing. There’s nothing comfier than dudes’ shirts. And this way, you can retire some of those worn-out rags you’ve been sporting around here. No offense to you, but I was starting to think a hobo was squatting in the guest bedroom.”
I snort. “Some offense taken.”
Bee laughs breezily. “Well, you’ll forgive me sooner or later. I’m gonna grab a snack. Care to join?”
“Sure. Be out in a bit.”
I’m still contemplating whether to tell her about running into her father as she dances out. I comb through the shirts she left me and marvel at how soft they are. She might have a point about retiring some of my older lazy day clothes. Many of them are just relics from old relationships at this point, and who needs reminders of a past that’s better off forgotten?
Once I’m done changing into a pair of shorts and one of the long-sleeved shirts on the bed, I go to the kitchen.
Bee is cutting up an apple and Dmitri is, to my dumbfounded surprise, rolling out pastry. It’s a sweetly domestic scene and immediately, I feel bad for intruding. “Uh, I can come back later?”
“Of course not.” Bee looks shocked that I’d even ask. “Join us.”
Dmitri glances up and freezes. He takes in the shirt I’m wearing and instantly, I realize that I’m not just wearing a random shirt; I’m wearing his shirt.
Why the fuck would Bee do that to me?
I wait for him to comment, but instead, he looks back down at his pastry. Though the kneading gets a lot more aggressive.
“So!” Bee says brightly. “How was the shopping trip?”
“It was fine,” I mumble. “I didn’t find anything.”
“Yes, she did,” Dmitri interjects. “Expect a delivery this evening.”
I gawk at him open-mouthed. “Pardon me? What did you buy?”
He shrugs, slamming his fist into the dough with a vengeance. “Everything you looked at.”
“Oh my God. How much did that cost?”
“You don’t need to concern yourself with the bill.”
“Yes, I do! I don’t need you spending a ton of money on me. If I want something, I’ll buy it myself.”
