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Thankfully his mom stepped up, and our beloved Gran took us into her rent-controlled apartment, doing her best with what little she had. It was a bit cramped sometimes, but we were more than lucky to have it in one of the most expensive cities in the world. It was the only home Annie’s ever really known. Things were tight often, but I got my first part-time job at sixteen to help out with extras like new clothes for the school dances I wanted to look nice for. I didn’t mind giving up college, eager for the chance to really help out once I graduated high school and could get a full-time job. It was relatively smooth sailing, and we were together, which was all that mattered.
If only Annie didn’t start getting ruthlessly bullied last year, I might still have had the leisurely life of a person with just one job, but it got so bad she was vomiting every morning from anxiety and gnawing her fingernails to the quick. No one at the school would do anything about it, but they were quick to call when Annie started skipping classes. I followed her one morning and found her hiding out behind a row of dumpsters near our apartment with her lunch sack and a book. When I saw her, my heart crumbled. Gran and I enrolled her in a small private school that very week.
Thankfully she was thriving now, but that place was expensive. Hence my three jobs.
All of that was normal, and I was used to it. It certainly wouldn’t have made me blink, let alone shed a tear, no matter how many memories that precious little baby brought crashing down on me or how tired I was.
But that morning, I was looking for the honey bear to drizzle all over my toast as a special treat, and when I reached up into the very top shelf in the pantry, my hand swept across a thick stack of envelopes. Intrigued, I pulled them down, but my curiosity soon turned into gut-churning fear. Medical bills. All showed staggering amounts, and some of them were already past due.
I didn’t understand what they were for and didn’t have time to sit down and research the many tests Gran had been secretly undergoing, but I did stew about it during my coffee shop shift until I was in an absolute frenzy.
Those bills explained a lot. Things I had been trying to ignore or chalk up to Gran just naturally getting older. Our grandmother would have taken a kick to the head before admitting she needed help, so when she moved a little slower than usual, I looked the other way so she could keep her pride.
Or maybe I was in denial. We’d already lost our mom, and our dad was as good as gone to us. We just couldn’t lose Gran. I couldn’t lose her. It was easier to worry about how those huge bills were going to get paid than think about that. But how were they going to get paid?
We were already stretched as thin as things could get. What if Gran got so sick she couldn’t watch Annie after school? There was no way we could swing an after-school program, and as good of a kid, as she was, she was still only ten. She’d turn feral in a month without proper supervision.
I got trapped in a cycle of pushing one of those worries aside to be replaced with another, and before I knew it, I was crying over the mop bucket. Then Mr. Morozov—Leo—looked down at me from his great height with a worried expression in his mossy green eyes. Every month or so, his shaggy hair would start to annoy him, and he’d have a fresh buzz cut like he did today. I was a sucker for that kind of serious, manly hairstyle, especially when it topped such a chiseled and handsome face.
He was anything but hewn from stone with his compassionate look of worry. Usually, when he was around during my shift, he’d be bent over his massive computer setup, surrounded by the harsh glow of the multiple screens, and lost to this reality. He always looked up when he heard me go past his open office doorway as if he was dragging himself from another world.
And then that smile. It lit up his face, and all my thoughts disappeared for a moment while I just took him in. He called me Sunshine as if he was thrilled to see me, and sometimes we chatted about whatever was going on in the news. Admittedly, I often hurriedly checked the headlines before arriving, just in case he was in a chatty mood.
He often had video and phone calls in fast-spoken Russian that I assumed were about the computer programs he created. Other than that, he was a mystery. A kind, handsome, mega-rich mystery. Anyone would have had a daydream or two about such a guy. I didn’t have time to have even the mildest daydream about Leo because once I was on the bus, I had to use that time to find a way to solve the medical bill predicament.
I crammed myself into a window seat and pulled out my phone, searching for ways for women to make money in a hurry. I quickly added legally before waiting for the results. Goodness gracious, were they outlandish. None of them seemed especially quick, and almost all needed money or equipment to get started.
Influencer? I looked down at the bleach splatter on the hem of the jeans that dated back to high school. No one was going to find my life aspirational. Youtuber? Maybe I could film it on my phone, as I did live in an exciting city. But no, it took a certain number of subscribers and time before you could get ad revenue and a quick glance at current New York City tour channels were showing off expensive meals at exclusive restaurants and shopping extravaganzas.
Making and selling crafts was out. Annie still had her knotty little pink blanket stuffed in our closet somewhere. No one was going to buy my wares. I had no fundamental special skills to teach anyone and no time or extra money to learn one. A heavy mantle of hopelessness settled on my shoulders about a block from my stop. Now I wasn’t just worried about money; my self-esteem was taking a hit.
I clicked on another article that finally had something different. Surrogacy? Was I really going to click on an article about having a baby for someone else?
What the hell, I clicked and brought the phone closer as I kept reading about it. It sounded right up my alley. I lived to help people; I was young, healthy, and fit, and the kicker? It paid sixty grand or more. It was a bit of a gut punch to realize I didn’t make that in a year with all my jobs, but this could be like a bonus since there’d be no reason to quit them while I—surrogated?
Who cared what it was called. I was so excited I missed my stop and wasn’t even bothered, backtracking the two blocks on foot while reading the company’s website. It seemed prestigious and well-established and had rave reviews from the parents. The joy that emanated from their testimonials tugged at my heartstrings. How wonderful to be responsible for helping a loving couple become a complete family. I stopped outside my building, leaned against the stoop, and dialed the office number.
I wasn’t just going to fix my own life; I was going to change someone else’s.
Chapter 3 - Leo
Once I made the appointment at the surrogacy agency, things all seemed to fall into place. I was on a roll. Burya, my new puppy, woke me up every night to go out, and after the initial groan, we’d be out on the street before he could make a mess. Usually, I was inordinately proud of myself for how much I was enjoying the new responsibility. A dog wasn’t a human baby, but he needed a lot of care that took time that I was used to hoarding for my coding. Losing a bit of what little sleep I got didn’t bother me like I thought it would.
He turned out to be a picky eater, so I had to test out several different brands before he naturally decided the most expensive one was the one for him. He’d already eaten an eight-hundred-dollar pair of shoes, but I counted it all as practice.
It was only a week into my decision to take on parenthood alone, but I still felt strong as I pulled the car into the underground parking garage of the surrogacy office’s building. I smiled at my housekeeper—God, I really needed to remember to ask Gregory her name—who sat next to me in the front seat.
“Thanks for doing this,” I said, proud of myself for solving the problem of leaving Burya alone by offering her fifty bucks to walk him while I was in the consultation. “I still don’t feel good about leaving him alone in the apartment.”
He’d raised quite a fuss when I took him to the Eastside bar for a meeting about some problems we’d been having with another organization. Ten grizzled and surly Bratva gathered around for their turn to scratch him behind his ears and broke into inappropriate grins at his antics while we discussed ways to get the Gianni family to stay off our turf. Even Evelina, who always put on her iciest demeanor over the video feed, laughed along with everyone else when he fell asleep on the table with his paw resting against a whisky glass like he was passed out drunk.
“It’s no problem,” she said. “I love dogs.”
When I got him out of his puppy harness safety contraption, I handed the leash over to her. I grinned as he took off, running toward the elevator. I had some time and could have gone up and waited in the office, but I got in with them and wandered a bit down the sidewalk under the guise that I was making sure she could handle him.
“What kind of dog is he?” she asked, leaning over when he put his paws on her legs, panting for attention.
I shoved him down, determined he wouldn’t be a hooligan when fully grown. “I have no idea,” I said. “Supposedly, there’s genetic testing, but I’m not really bothered if he’s not.”
