Page 103 of Surrogate For My Best Friend’s Man 2

I turned back around. “It’s not.”

“Kim.”

“It’s not.” I yelled.

My father studied me for a few seconds. “What happens when those babies are born and he still doesn’t want a relationship with you?”

I hated that question because everybody kept asking some version of it. Like they were waiting for me to fail. “He’ll want his children.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

“He will.”

“But if he doesn’t?”

I grabbed the bags. “Why are you here?”

He sighed. “I came to check on my daughter.”

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t seem fine.”

“Because everybody keeps telling me how I’m supposed to feel!” I grabbed another bag. “I waited years for this. Miscarriage after miscarriage, doctor after doctor. Every time I thought I was finally going to become a mother, something happened.” I whined.

Another loss, another procedure, another apology from somebody wearing a white coat. I had watched other women get pregnant without even trying while I couldn’t keep one baby. Now I had two children weeks away from being born. And everybody wanted me focused on Deuce rejecting me Fuck that.

“I am about to be a mother.”

My father nodded.

“Yes, you are.”

“Then let me be happy about that.”

“I want you to be happy.”

“Doesn’t feel like it.”

He stood. “I want you prepared.”

“For what?”

“For the possibility that motherhood may not look the way you’ve imagined it.”

I didn’t answer. He kissed my forehead before heading toward the door. I stood there holding those bags until I heard it close behind him. Then I went upstairs. The nursery was my favorite room in the house. I walked to the cribs and placed the outfits across them. I took my phone out and snapped a picture. My finger hovered over Deuce’s name before I remembered I couldn’t simply text him and that irritated me.

Then another thought came. When he got out, I’d show him everything. The nursery and the clothes. He’d see what we’d created and all that shit he said to me through that glass wouldn’t matter anymore. He was going to love them and once he loved them, he’d have to deal with me. I sat in the rocking chair between the cribs. Shante thought I was selfish and my father thought I was delusional.

Deuce thought he could throw me away and Alisha probably thought she’d won because she was still his wife. Let them believe what they wanted to believe I had waited too long for my turn. And this time, I wasn’t leaving empty handed.

SHANTE

By the time I pulled into the parking lot at the county jail, I had talked myself out of going inside at least four times. I should’ve just taken my ass home. My back was killing me, my ankles were swollen, and at this point, I was just ready to have these babies, I was big as fuck and my stomach entered rooms before I did. Rolling over in bed had become a whole event, and I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen my damn feet without working for it.

With less than a month left, I was over being pregnant, over lying, over crying, over everybody. Especially my brother, after that phone call with Kim, I couldn’t sit in that empty ass apartment another minute. Somebody needed to hear what the fuck I had to say. And it wasn’t going to be Grandma she’d already heard enough.

It wasn’t going to be Malik because he didn’t want shit to do with me, and it damn sure couldn’t be Alisha. Every time I thought about her, guilt ate my ass alive. So that left Deuce the nigga responsible for getting me into this shit in the first place.