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“He looks like a honey badger,” she said, smoothing the white patch on the top of his head that ended at his shoulder blades like he was half skunk. His squat, muscular little body was mostly black, and his ears had dark tufts at their pointed tips.
“That sounds cute.”
“It’s kind of a brutal menace, actually,” she said, blushing prettily. “My kid sister likes to watch nature shows.”
“Well, Burya means storm in Russian. He’s a bit of a natural disaster if not a menace.”
She put on a silly dog voice that I found way too charming. “He’s not a natural disaster; no, he’s not. He’s a good boy.”
The little mutt went wild at her attention, and she smiled up at me, causing me to quickly look away, not wanting her to think I’d been staring at her in wonder all that time. Even though I was. But it was only because she was such a natural with him. Hopefully, she’d be available to dog sit more often, so I didn’t have to have him stealing the show when I needed my guys to concentrate on cracking kneecaps. Down the line, maybe she’d want to do some babysitting too.
My phone dinged, letting me know I needed to head up or be late. As excited as I was to get the ball rolling on my future fatherhood, I found it hard to pull myself away from her and the happily gamboling puppy.
“I shouldn’t be more than an hour, I don’t think,” I said. “Then I’ll take you wherever you need to go.”
She quickly shook her head. “It’s really no problem. I actually have an appointment in this building later on, so you’ve already done me a favor by saving me a bus ride.”
As I strode into the building, I began to worry about my anonymity, which was my paramount concern in this whole thing. No one could know I was planning this, especially with the Gianni family acting up. I didn’t need them or any of our other enemies, finding out I was about to have a child.
Curious about what she might be doing there later, I looked over the office directory while waiting for the elevator. The surrogacy agency was discreetly named after the company’s founder without mentioning what it might be. The building was jam-packed with lawyers, accountants, financial advisors, and even an optician and a dentist. My Sunshine would never suspect where I was going, and she was probably just getting an eye exam or filing her taxes.
The waiting room was decorated with simple furniture in cool gray and blue tones, with abstract oil paintings that might have represented the ocean on the walls. It was clearly designed to calm a person’s nerves, but it only served to make me realize how nervous I actually was. That in itself was oddly calming because anyone would be at least a little frazzled in such a potentially life-changing situation. I was making the right decision, and I was ready.
I barely sat down when a tall, middle-aged woman in a navy suit opened the door and warmly welcomed me back to an office with much more personality than the waiting room. Bookshelves lined two walls, interspersed with watercolor outlines of pregnant women and couples holding babies. She sat behind a glass desk and invited me to pull up one of the cozy armchairs.
We chatted for a few minutes when I finally jumped in. I had a dog and a housekeeper waiting, after all. “Do you have many single fathers?” I asked.
“Not many,” she admitted. “We do have more couples, but we understand that anyone willing to go on this journey is committed to parenthood.”
She slid some paperwork over to me, which I perused, my eyes immediately sliding down to the bottom line. I’d learned what it might cost from the internet, so they didn’t pop out of my head. Of course, it was going to be expensive. I was asking someone to make a real sacrifice for me. Not for the first time, I wondered what kind of woman would be so selfless, and my heartstrings tugged with gratitude.
She asked me what kind of traits I was looking for, and I was briefly confused.
“Traits?” I asked.
“Dark hair, light hair? Is it important to you that she excels in science, perhaps? All of our surrogacy candidates are rigorously screened for any health issues, both physical and mental, but if you’re particularly worried about something in your own background—”
“Just as long as she’s healthy, I don’t honestly care what she looks like,” I said.
I really didn’t want this to seem like an online shopping session for a new suitcase. I didn’t think I’d start dating someone solely because she was good at math, either, and just because I liked computers didn’t mean my kid would. I liked the idea of my child being a mystery that unfolded to me over time. My sister and I shared the same womb, yet we were as different as night and day in most things.
She didn’t seem to believe me and showed me several portfolios of what I assumed were actual candidates to be my child’s mother. A young, freckled blonde. A more serious-looking, red-haired woman. It made me feel a bit dizzy, maybe even queasy. Way too much like shopping.
“I really don’t care,” I asserted. “Healthy, good-hearted, which I’m sure she already is to do something like this. And a nice smile, I guess.”
“Well, we can arrange for an interview as soon as it’s convenient for you.”
I held up my hand. “I thought this was going to be anonymous.”
Blinking, she rustled through the papers on her desk. “You don’t want to meet her at all?”
“No. And I don’t want her to know anything about me.” I started to rise. This was a deal breaker if she couldn’t offer that, and nothing I could negotiate. I certainly couldn’t explain that this could mean life or death if my surrogate knew who I was and it leaked to the wrong people.
“Mr. Morozov, yes, we can and have done completely anonymous surrogacies in the past. It’s a bit rare, but nothing we can’t accommodate. We treat it much the same way adoptions used to be handled, though, of course, this will be your own biological child.” She looked at me over the top of her glasses. “Will you want to be at the birth? It’s just something to think about.”
Well, damn. I did want to be at the birth. All my cousins had their war stories, full of pride in their wives and the joy of seeing their babies come into the world. But I was choosing a different path. “I’ll think about that,” I said.
By the time that rolled around, I could have enough security in place that it might be safe. Awkward as hell, though, meeting someone for the first time when they’re about to push out your baby. I reiterated that I’d give it more thought, and she assured me there was plenty of time.
