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I glance up the hill at their cabins, noticing how beautiful they look today. Much better than they did a few weeks ago when I was going to burn them down.
“You’re just mad you didn’t build on Fletcher Mountain,” Luke murmurs loud enough for all of us to hear.
“I didn’t want to build on Fletcher Mountain,” Max bellows over his shoulder at Luke before turning back to me. “And now you’re actually going to raise a baby up here like it’s some sort of Three Mountain Men and a Baby movie?”
“Hey…I never signed up to raise this baby,” Calder snaps, pointing an accusing finger at me. “I don’t do diapers. Didn’t do it for Everly or Ethan, and I won’t do it for your offspring.”
Max releases an exasperated laugh, like he can’t believe the one argument Calder has right now is over diapers. “I thought the fact that you were rejecting all those candidates at the agency meant you weren’t going to go through with this. Now you decided to select a surrogate that my kid found you?”
My jaw clenches, and Max’s face softens when he sees I’m not changing my mind on this. With a heavy sigh, he says, “At least let my lawyer look over the contract before you guys…do it.” Max looks uncomfortable with the last couple of words, and I internally guffaw. What a child.
“I hired my own lawyer, Max. I’m good. The papers are already signed, and we’re doing this.”
“What happens next?” Luke asks, his eyes full of genuine curiosity. He’s got different energy about all of this than Max, and it’s very much appreciated.
“She’s moving into the barn today.”
“What?” all three of my brothers bellow in unison. Jesus, they should start a boy band.
“Lodging was a request of hers, and she needs the barn for her own animal, so this was necessary.”
“What about our mountain pact?” Calder grunts, looking far more awake now and very unimpressed by this tiny detail I left out of my group text.
“You’re the moron who put rural housing available upon request in your ad!”
“I didn’t think that would actually work,” he murmurs, blinking back his disbelief as his eyes flash over to the barn. “The last time we had a woman living up here—”
“That won’t happen again,” I snap, my temper flaring instantly as memories of the past try to flood my vision. I shake them away to the dark corners of my mind, where they’ve been living for the better part of a decade. “This is business, not personal. Our pact remains. You guys don’t even need to interact with her.”
“You didn’t think you needed to run any of this by us first?” Luke asks, his voice showing his anxiety.
“No.” I move down the steps to get some space before I decide to remind them that I own this land and they live here by my invitation. Not that I’d ever kick them out. Honestly, it would kill me to lose them. I picture us all up here until we’re old and gray. But I need them to see the bigger picture here. “Do you guys really care more about the past than my future? I’m trying to start a family here.”
“We just know how hard it was after everything that went down with Robyn.” Max sighs heavily. “You took it the hardest.”
“Don’t say her fucking name,” I grind out, my entire body radiating anger at the fact that my older brother feels entitled to remindme of the past. It’s impossible to forget. And I took it the hardest because I was the one who lost the most.
But that’s ancient history now. Robyn might as well be Lord fucking Voldemort because I do not speak her name. Ever.
“Trista is different. You guys will see. She’s not like other women,” I state honestly. Not that I need their approval. I’m doing this, and my brothers need to get right with it, or we’ll have problems. “This is essentially a nine-month contract. We can handle a female on the mountain for nine months.”
Calder and Luke look doubtful, but honestly, I don’t care. This feels right. It felt right the moment I laid eyes on Trista, and it’s felt right every day since. As weird as it might be to have my niece find me a baby momma, I think her crazy fucking plan just might work. Shit, I could be expecting a baby by the end of the month, maybe.
Calder interrupts my thoughts. “Well, if she’s going to live so close, maybe you should make this baby the old-fashioned way? Lay out some candles…play a little music.”
“If you don’t have anything respectful to say about all of this, then please shut the fuck up.” My tone is flat, knowing I’ve reached my daily quota on word allowance all before breakfast. Damn these big life changes are fucking with my silent-mountain-man vibes.
Calder laughs and leans back on the log railing, murmuring, “Not even a dad yet, and already sounding like our father. Way to go, Papa Bear.”
I growl my wordless response to Calder about having sex with Trista, knowing full well I’m not going to tell any of my brothers how we’re making this baby. It’s none of their damn business. It’s mine and Trista’s, and no one needs to know exactly how this is all going down.
I fight back a smile as I recall how Trista’s face scrunched up when she made the squeezing motion with her hand to gesticulate the insemination. It was horrifying at first, but now, every time I think about it, I can’t help but laugh.
“You know…inseminate me like a cow. Turkey baster style. You can buy the kits on Amazon. Just pull the semen up into the syringe and shoot it up my bajingo.”
She certainly has a way with words.
In the end, I agreed with her. The contract states that Trista and I will try to do it the “farm way,” as she requested, though it was outlined more scientifically in black and white with mentions of an at-home insemination kit. If we don’t have success in the first month, the contract allows us to try for two more months, and after that, we’ll attempt three cycles of IUI with a clinic. If there’s no success in six months, we both part ways—Trista with a small stipend and me with…well…nothing. But that’s life, I guess. There are no guarantees.
