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“No. The idea just came like an epiphany. It would be fun to show you more of Europe. Must be the Rhode Island joggers I’m wearing. They’re magical, transforming me from a miserable prick into a ball of fun.”
“Well…” I tugged at his shirt playfully. “What if I can’t get time off from work?”
“Considering I’m your boss’s boss, I’d say you stand a good chance.”
“Then I would love that.” Excitement filled me. “Now you’re making mereallynot regret this surrogacy decision.”
“I’m glad you don’t regret it, love.”
“I regret nothing so far, even things I probably should.” I reached up to rub the scruff on his chin, wanting so badly for him to kiss me.
“Speaking of things you probably should regret, I’m going to stay far away from you so you can actually sleep,” he said as we walked back into the house. “You need your rest, even though right now I feel like keeping you up all night.”
“You say that while sporting a stiffy in those sweatpants and expect me to resist you?”
He looked down. “Yeah. I’m sorry. I can’t help it. Your tits in that shirt have me wanting to tear it off you with my teeth.”
I batted my lashes. “You can, if you want.”
“Don’t tempt me.”
“You should go to my father’s room before Idotempt you.”
He pulled his brows together. “That sounds bizarre—going to your father’s room when all I want to do is fuck you right now.”
“It does sound kind of wrong.” I laughed.
After we walked up the stairs, Sig stopped in front of Dad’s door. “Goodnight, Abby.”
“Goodnight, Sig. Thank you for coming with me. I’ll never forget it.”
“You’re welcome, gorgeous.”
That night I went to sleep feeling relaxed, cared for, and remarkably content, despite the fact that the future was still uncertain.
Maybe it was being near the ocean again, back at the store, being home.
Or maybe it washim.
But tonight held the last peace I’d feel for a while.
CHAPTER 32
Sig
Track 32: “(Sittin’ On) The Dock of the Bay” by Otis Redding
If life had taught me one thing, it was never to be surprised when the other shoe drops.
That first day in Rhode Island, everything had appeared relatively stable. Abby had hoped her father would be released with some heart medication and instructions to make some lifestyle changes, and it would be safe for her to return to England within a week or so of getting him resettled at home.
But when we’d returned to the hospital the second day, Abby’s father’s doctor told us there’d been an incidental finding on one of his cardiac scans: a lung nodule that looked suspicious. It was a blow no one saw coming; in fact, Abby’s sister had already flown back to California, believing there was no need to stay.
For the next week, we’d held off on booking return tickets until we had the results of Roland’s biopsy. Abby’s dad had come home, so I’d spent the nights on the Knickerbockers’ living room couch and cooked dinners for them, trying to distract from their worries. And I was at the house with Abby and her dad when they got the call that the nodule was cancerous.
Now, nine days after we arrived, I was leaving tomorrow for England without her. Abby would stay in Rhode Island for the foreseeable future while her father underwent treatment for stage-two lung cancer. There was never any question about how to proceed. She’d see an OBGYN here. And the controlling manner in which I’d handled the logistics of the surrogacy thus far would have to change.
The last thing I wanted to do was leave her. But I couldn’t stay indefinitely. I had a company to run and had already taken more than a week off with no warning, rescheduling several important client meetings. So, I’d finally booked my ticket for tomorrow.
