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I pause and exhale heavily. I came up here to give him a piece of my mind about being overly friendly, and now I have a new mattress, a guaranteed daily breakfast delivery, and a couple of rides to town. Something tells me this mountain man isn’t used to being told no. If I want to survive on Mount Millie for a full nine months, I’ll need to make sure he realizes that I know how to get what I want as well.
WeeksPregnant:12
AnimalsontheMountain:3
“We’re just going to tuck this right under here,” the ultrasound tech says as she rolls a towel over Trista’s jeans and pulls the fabric so low I can see the curves of her groin.
My hands ball into fists as I turn away from the exam table, trying my damnedest not to ogle the skin on full display in front of me. Jesus Christ, her body is something else. It’s soft and curved in all the right places. And I’ve shamelessly noticed the change in her breasts these past several weeks too. They’re practically bursting through the fabric of the cropped tank she’s wearing today. She usually doesn’t dress so revealing, so I’m ashamed to admit how many times I’ve caught myself looking.
It’s no secret that I’ve always preferred curvy women. When my brothers and I do our boys’ nights in Denver, we can all depend on not being attracted to the same girl based on our types. I like women with curves who can handle a good romp in the bedroom. Calder likes feisty women who act like they hate him until they’re fucking like animals in the car. And Luke gravitates toward the quiet girls…the ones who look too innocent to have a one-night stand but make an exception just for him.
We don’t overlap on our taste in women…except for one time. And ever since then, we’ve learned to stay in our fucking lanes.
Trista Matthews is definitely in my lane, and if I think too much about why I picked her to be my surrogate, I start to feel really uncomfortable.
“Wyatt, don’t be so awkward.” Trista reaches out and grabs my wrist to pull me toward the bed. The sensation of her skin on mine sends shivers up my arm.
“Just trying to give you privacy.” I scowl at the tech, who’s watching our interaction with rapt fascination.
“What is there to see? The fact that my jeans don’t button quite as good as they used to?” She laughs as she props her hand behind her head. “Our contract says you get to be in the room when I give birth, so no need to be bashful now.”
“You guys are cute,” the tech says as she readies the ultrasound machine. “Were you friends before you agreed to be his surrogate?”
“We’re still figuring out the friends part,” Trista cajoles, and my brows furrow at that response.
I’ve tried really hard the past week to back off on the gifts, even though everything I’ve given her seems like valuable things anyone growing a human in their body would appreciate.
She doesn’t get how impressed I am by her. The fact that she used a fucking Tylenol syringe of my sperm and now there’s life growing inside her is a miracle of science. I want to make sure she’s taken care of during this nine-month contract. She deserves at least that much, and I get the sense that no one has ever really done that for her.
Although I’ll admit putting gas in her car was a bit much. But at least I canceled the appointment I made to buy her new tires at Tire Depot in Boulder. That would have sent her over the edge, for sure. I can maybe try that once we’re in the second trimester. Spread my “dad bombing” out a bit.
I watch the tech squirt gel all over Trista’s stomach, which looks pretty flat still to me. There’s a slight rounding happening below her belly button, but I can’t tell if that’s baby or not. She looks great to me either way.
“It appears someone’s awake,” the tech coos, and I glance up at the screen to see the video image of my baby dancing.
“Holy shit,” I rumble, my voice hoarse as I gawk at how much it’s changed.
“From a jelly bean to a plum!” the tech confirms with a big, toothy smile. “It’ll be hard to get the measurements with all the movement, but everything looks really great at first glance, Dad.”
Her dad reference causes a rush of emotion to swell in my chest, and I watch in awe as the baby wiggles and dances on the screen. Something about this little digital bundle looking like an actual baby now has made this all a thousand times more real.
I blink through the burn in my eyes as the baby’s hand moves up toward its mouth. My voice is deep and garbled when I ask, “Is it true they can suck their thumb at this gestation? That’s what one of the baby books says.”
“You’ve been reading baby books?” the tech asks, her voice full of shock.
I shrug because it’s like the bare fucking minimum effort. “After Trista got really bad morning sickness, I wanted to make sure I knew what else might be coming for her. You know…so I can help out more.”
“Oh, he loves helping,” Trista murmurs with a laugh and pats my arm teasingly.
I frown once again as the tech replies to my earlier question. “Well, you’re correct. They can suck their thumb at this point in the pregnancy. They are also fully formed now…all their fingers, toes, and organs are present and accounted for. The teeth are even beginning to develop.”
“Teeth?” Trista cringes. “Is this aTwilightbaby? I didn’t know babies were born with teeth.”
The tech laughs. “Just the buds. Although babies can actually be born with teeth. It’s really rare, though.”
I can’t help the smile that grows on my face. The baby isn’t here yet, and I am already proud of it.
“Measurements are all good, and the due date is on track. Can’t quite see the gender yet, though. You’ll find that out at your nextultrasound around twenty-week gestation…that is…if you want to know. Maybe you want to be surprised?”
