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“She’s my surrogate,” I grind out and cringe at the idea of blurring that line. “It’s like ten kinds of fucked up.”
“Not when you’re both consenting adults,” Calder volleys back with a shrug. “And if you don’t satisfy her needs, someone else will.”
Red floods my eyesight as I imagine the vet or some other random fuck she picks up at the Mercantile going up into her apartment and laying her out naked on that bed. The bed I bought for her. My hand tightens on the glass as I picture a stranger fucking Trista…fucking what’s mine.
Mine.
Except she isn’t mine. She’ll never be mine. We have a contractbasically guaranteeing that once this baby is born, we never speak to each other again.
But the idea of another man’s dick pounding into her with my baby inside her? It’s a horror I didn’t realize would gut me so much.
I shift my jaw from side to side, hating myself for acting like I haven’t been considering fucking her since the first night we did the insemination song and dance. I didn’t want to jizz into a cup. I wanted to jizz into her. I wanted it so bad I was actually disappointed when I found out she was pregnant. It meant I couldn’t take her up on her offer of doing it the old-fashioned way, and that would have been so fucking worth it.
My eyes are hard when I glance over at my brothers and ask, “But what if—”
“She’s nothing like her,” Luke says with a serious expression. “And we’ve all changed since then.”
I nod slowly because he’s right. The three of us are closer than ever, and I trust them for the most part. But with Trista, I feel overly protective on some strange level. I’ve never met anyone like her before. She’s a total enigma.
Calder elbows me gently. “If she’s into casual and she’ll be moving out and moving on after she has the baby, you’d be a fool not to go for it.”
I consider that idea as I turn and see that Trista is in a conversation with my brother Max now. It looks kind of serious, based on her pensive expression. Paranoia prickles over what he might be talking to her about, so I nod to Calder and Luke to make my way over there. My heart thunders when Trista squeals and reaches out to hug him.
“What’s going on?” I ask as I set the glass of juice in front of Trista and turn hard eyes on my older brother.
“Nothing yet,” Max replies, pulling away with a laugh. “I just let Trista know that if she opens up her wildlife facility, my company would be happy to donate.”
“Isn’t that amazing?” she exclaims with a big smile like he’s just gifted her the world.
My jaw clenches, and I force out a noncommittal “Sure.”
Trista frowns curiously at me, and I feel my brother’s judgmental stare weighing down on me. “You good?” Max asks, his voice deep and knowing.
“I’m great,” I reply crisply, turning on my heel. “I’ll leave you two to it.”
I take off for the bar, ignoring the curious looks of my brothers as I struggle to control my temper. Fucking Max is always trying to do too much. I don’t need him to step in and save the woman I hired to have my baby, just like I didn’t need his lawyer to arrange this whole thing. Trista doesn’t need his corporate money either. She’s a trailblazer, a nontraditional thinker. She’s figuring her life out on her own terms…just like I am. Or so I thought.
Now I have to wonder why it seems so easy for her to accept something from my brother when I get pushback for trying to buy her a damn bed? Or bring her breakfast. Or fill her car up with gas one time. Or ask her if Avery is taking advantage of her. She makes no fucking sense.
I decide that keeping my distance from Trista for the rest of this party is key to my sanity because I’m not in a partying mood. And it’s not just because Max offered money to Trista. It’s because this party is just a painful reminder that Everly is moving away in a couple of months, and our dad isn’t here to celebrate her. Our family is getting smaller by the minute.
“Wyatt, honey, is Trista still here?” my mom asks, interrupting my solitary poolside brooding.
“She’s over there.” I point at where I’ve been watching her for the better part of an hour. It’s dark now, and the sun has all but vanished behind the foothills. The DJ lights cast a colorful glow on Trista’s face as they spin around the patio. She looks like she’s entertaining the hell out of Everly’s friends, all of them erupting into fits of giggles every five seconds. She was worried about not knowing anyone here tonight, but she seems to be fitting in just fine. And I hate how much that bugs me. I wanted her to have fun. I wanted her to cut loose and relax. What is my fucking problem?
“I want to give her this quilt I made.” My mom turns to head toward her with a gift bag in hand.
“You shouldn’t give that to her,” I call out before she gets too far away. “She doesn’t like gifts.”
My mom’s brows furrow as she turns to look back at me. “What?”
“She was unhappy about the bed I bought her, so I’m sure she won’t like that quilt.” I sip the warm beer I’ve been nursing.
My mom looks crestfallen. “I’ve been working on this since your first ultrasound.”
I shrug dismissively. “I don’t know what to tell you.”
Her eyes narrow as she marches over to me. “Wyatt Anthony Fletcher, whatever the hell is the matter with you…get over it.”
