I stumble into the bathroom and head straight for the sink. The moment I reach it, I turn on the faucet and let the cold water run into the sink. I run my hand through it, relishing its cool feel. Only once I can see straight again do I splash the water on my face, cooling myself down.
I stare at myself in the mirror and looked back at my reflection. As I do, the idea very slowly starts to grow on me. Well, not the idea itself, but the outcome of it. The money. I hate that I’m in a position where the need for money can dictate my life. But I am, and there’s no way around that.
Nine months. If I give him nine months, it could totally transform my life for the better. I hate where I live. I hate my job. I hate that I don’t have enough time to write. This offer could change all that. This offer could change me.
I stare at myself for a few more moments, letting the offer slowly take hold. As I feel myself cooling down, I begin to see the merits. And a few minutes more of staring is enough to convince me.
I’m going to do it.
But I am still not sure. The only reason that I am even considering it is because it’s Blake who asked. If it were anyone else, I would tell them to take a hike. But it’s Blake. It’s someone who I was honestly already picturing myself with, before this offer arose. It is because of that and that alone that the situation isn’t as cut and dry as it might seem.
I walk back to the table in a much better state than I left it. My back is straight, and I’m in control. As I slide back into my chair, I am delighted to see that my glass is full of red wine.
I pick up the glass and take a long sip, relishing in the way that I am making Blake sweat. He watches me the whole time, and only when I am done and wipe my lips, do I speak.
“I need a few days to think about it,” I say simply.
“Of course,” he says, “I wouldn’t expect you to say yes to something so big right away. I want you to take this seriously.”
“But that’s not a no,” I assure him. “It’s a maybe. I just can’t make this kind of decision on a whim. You understand?”
“I do,” he relents, evidently seeing the logic in my reason. “So, I won’t put any more pressure on you, okay? In fact, I won’t mention it again for the rest of the night. How does that sound?”
“That sounds perfect. What you can do is convince me, quietly, that it’s a good idea. You know, through your actions as a gentleman and all that.”
“Who says I’m a gentleman?” He quips, that sly smile returning.
“Careful,” I respond, unable to hide my smirk.
“Right, a gentleman,” he says, coughing dramatically as he pretends to clear his throat. “So, are you ready to order?”
“Maybe,” I say as I look down at the menu. “What’s good here?”
Chapter 11
BLAKE
The two of us have just finished eating dessert. We shared a slice of chocolate cake. The cake was Carrie’s decision, and as she ordered it, I got the sense that it was a favorite of hers. I made a mental note to always have chocolate cake in the house.
She eats the final slice and sucks the cake off the spoon. The whole time, she watches me with those eyes. She knows what she is doing to me through her actions, and I can tell it gives her great pleasure. But I’m okay with it. All I can think about is what I am going to do to her later.
I have managed to avoid talking about my proposal, too, just as I had promised. And the crazy part is, it isn’t even that hard. As soon as I told her that I would no longer mention it, I didn’t. As simple as that. And by the time we ordered our food and it came out to us, the proposal was all but forgotten.
It’s a testament to how perfect we are for one another and to how well we get along. That’s why I have chosen her to be the surrogate, assuming she says yes. Not only do I think that she will make a perfect second half, I also see her as someone I won’t mind spending the next nine months around. Not to mention what happens after we have the child.
But I can’t think on that now. I watch her slowly swallow the cake, her eyes still on me, and I calculate what I have to do and say to get her up to my room. Because tonight, I am having her, much the same way she just had that cake.
“So, I told you that the food here was good,” I say as I lean back in my chair.
“And I’m very impressed. I should never have doubted you really. Is that where you disappeared to for a few minutes earlier? You were in the kitchen cooking my meal? You really are so talented.” She pats her plump lips with a napkin.
“Not tonight, no. But would you believe me if I told you I taught the chef everything she knows?”
“I wouldn’t,” she says instantly. “Although I have doubted you before, and that hasn’t worked out for me in the past. So maybe I should be inclined. And if that’s the case, then again, very well done.”
“If you think the food was good, you should see the rooms here,” I say. It is a risk, and there is a chance that she will be put off by the forwardness of my statement. But I have to take it. I have to have her.
“Is that right?” She replies with a knowing smile.
“Some say that they are even better than the food.”
“Well, if that’s the case,”
