Page 1 of My Girlfriend is Not the Father

PART ONE

Chapter 1

Lucy

Lucy Green palmed a needle the size of the baton she used to twirl in her high-school marching band. A hot sting of bile snaked up her oesophagus and bubbled in her throat, threatening to launch. Droplets of cold sweat pricked her neck. She stared at the doctor. ‘I’m sorry. Did you say I have to stick this in my butt?’

Doctor Olson, a kind woman with salted grey hair and crinkles around her eyes, smiled. ‘Not technically in your butt. More … outside of the butt. The nurse will draw a bull’s-eye around the outer butt cheek and upper hip area to ensure you don’t hit a sciatic nerve. We want to make sure you can walk during this pregnancy.’

Her tone made this statement sound like a cute, tongue-in-cheek joke. But Lucy knew the doctor was dead serious. Lucy’s gaze flickered between the fathers and the hormone drumstick in her hand. She exhaled a shaky breath and forced a brave face so her bestie, Drew, and his husband, Mason, wouldn’t catch a whiff of her nerves.

At least she wasn’t dating, because between a semipermanent bull’s-eye drawn on her ass, the extreme amount of hormones she was about to take, and the inevitable morning sickness, she could probably take home an award for the World’s Least Desirable Single.

‘Okay, gotcha.’ Lucy sank back into the cushy leather couch – one perk of seeing a doctor at a swanky Minneapolis fertility clinic instead of the local medical group.

Doctor Olson reviewed the computer screen. ‘Any side effects from starting birth control?’

Growing up as president of the Certified Lesbian Association, never in Lucy’s wildest dreams did she think she’d ever take The Pill. ‘A small headache, but not too bad.’

‘That should go away by next month but keep me posted.’ Doctor Olson’s index finger scrolled the computer mouse. ‘And how are your periods? Regular?’

Lucy shot a glance at Drew, who seemed as cool as he’d always been since meeting him twenty-five years ago in kindergarten. He ran his fingers through his ginger-red hair and gave Lucy a quick grin.

Mason, however, stiffened a little more – if that was even possible. Mason once mentioned that the female body was like the Bermuda Triangle meets a black abyss – fascinating, but something he had no desire to explore. If the words ‘heavy flow’ left the doctor’s mouth right now, he’d probably collapse.

‘Yep, so far, so good,’ Lucy said.

‘Great.’ The doctor tapped the keyboard. ‘This will give you a leg up when the IPs choose the egg donor.’

So many terms. IPs, GCs, egg donors, pre-birth orders. Lucy’s head swirled, but she did a quick calculation. IPs equalled Intended Parents. Aka the fathers. Aka the two men in the doctor’s office who now knew everything from her weight to her sexual history (less activity than she wanted, cough, cough), and that she was not nearly as cool with needles as claimed when they started the surrogacy conversation years ago.

‘Dads.’ Doctor Olson folded her hands and glanced at Lucy’s friends. ‘Questions for me?’

Mason shook his head, not one speck of his perfectly coiffed jet-black hair moving. He thumbed the tip of his heavy, dark designer frames back into place and glanced at his husband. ‘Drew?’

‘Just confirming, if Lucy gets sore, she can shoot the injection into her thigh?’ Drew said.

‘That’s correct, but not always advisable.’ The doctor shifted towards Lucy. ‘I’m going to be honest. The thigh is going to hurt. If that’s your injection site, you need to heat, massage, and ice.’

Cool, cool. Lucy hoped her expert-level poker face didn’t break. She resisted the urge to peek at Drew, knowing he could decode her micro-expressions in a snap.

‘Okay, friends. If there are no further questions, sit tight.’ Doctor Olson adjusted the stethoscope around her neck and stood. ‘The coordinator will arrive shortly. I’ll see you next month.’

The heavy door clicked shut and Drew blurted out, ‘Oh, my hell.’ He scooted in next to her on the couch. ‘I had no idea it was so big.’

Too easy. ‘That’s what she sa—’

‘Nope, no jokes. I’m serious.’ Drew tugged on his designer jeans, his freckled white face turning more pale than normal. ‘I’m sick to my stomach. That needle is no joke.’

‘Lucy, are you okay with this?’ Mason scratched at his dark, permanent five-o’clock shadow scruff. ‘You can still back out.’

‘Guys, seriously? Stop. We’ve talked about this for a million years. I’m not backing out.’ She could hear how her voice sounded – calm, confident, light-hearted. Basically, the exact opposite of the monstrosity occurring inside her. She shoved her shaky hands under her legs. ‘Besides, that bride of Satan’s needle won’t start for a while, so we’re good.’

Lucy couldn’t help but notice the quick, worried glance Drew shot at Mason. Ugh. Her dirty-joke-telling, drag-show-watching, chocolate-stealing bestie had flipped into an overbearing, protective dad the moment she had said ‘yes’ and it made her itchy.

‘Well, hellooooo there!’ the ultra-bubbly coordinator announced as she bounced through the door.

The men sat up straight like when Sister Katherine stomped in during seventh-grade algebra for a pop quiz. Lucy got it. She was nervous as heck, too. Even this deep into the surrogacy process, they could still be denied at any point.