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“Hey,” she said as she popped up on the screen.
Abby’s hair was unruly, looking a bit knotted. Her cheeks were flushed. It reminded me of what she’d looked like the night we had sex and made me yearn to be with her right now.
“What are you up to?” I asked.
“I just vacuumed.”
“Ah.” I laughed. “Looks like it took a lot out of you.”
“Are you saying I look bad?”
“No. Just the opposite. Beautifully flustered.”
“Thank you…I think.”
I kicked my feet up. “How was your day?”
“Busy. After the ultrasound, I had to take my dad to his chemo appointment. It’s been nonstop.”
“Are you eating when you should?”
“I’m trying.”
“Abby…” I scolded.
“What?” She flashed a guilty smile.
“Are you going to make me get on a plane right now? Come to Rhode Island and force feed you?”
“Don’t tempt me. If I starve myself, does that mean I get to see you? I might be onto something.”
Every weekend I considered flying in to surprise her, even if just for a couple of days. But when I got close to booking a ticket, my common sense always kicked in. I’d remind myself that the separation we’d been dealt was for her own good, that the sooner she becamedetachedfrom me, the better.Detached. There was that word again.
She’d also been busy with her father—another one of my excuses. I’d convinced myself that my presence would distract her from being there for him. But whatever I told myself, it didn’t change the fact that I missed her every day, and more today than ever.
“The only thing I feel like lately are those pancakes you never had a chance to make me. I’ve been telling Dad how the British make pancakes differently. He felt bad that you were going to make them for me the morning I got the call about his heart attack. He wants to try them, too.” She laughed. “He’s a big pancake man.”
“I should’ve made them when I was in Rhode Island. I wish I could make them for you both right now.”
She blew a piece of hair toward her forehead. “You didn’t say much when I sent you the photo today.”
I picked at some lint on my bed. “I know. But I haven’t been able to stop staring at him—or her. You don’t know the gender, right?”
“No, I haven’t cheated and asked. If Kate and Phil want it to be a surprise, a surprise it shall be.” She lay back on her bed. “I don’t think I could keep that from you anyway. It’s better that I don’t know. I’m not very good at keeping secrets.”
“I have a secret,” I said.
“Yeah?”
“I missed you something terrible today. But don’t tell anyone.”
“I won’t tell the surrogacy police. But missing me isn’t part of the protocol, Sigmund.”
“I’m a terrible rule follower when it comes to you.”
“First rule of Surrogacy Club, don’t fuck the surrogate. And certainly don’t miss her.”
I raised my hand. “Guilty on both counts.”
