Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
WELLS
Wells’s heart thundered in his ears.
Allison whirled around to face him. Her eyes were wide with shock.
Okay, maybe this hasn’t been top of mind for her.
The solution to his surrogacy woes had been staring at him in the face for over a week. He’d rolled it around in his head, the idea gaining speed and shape every time he saw her.
Was it a crazy idea?
Obviously.
Did that make it a bad idea?
Not to him. He loved crazy ideas.
The horrified look on her face, however, was giving him pause.
“Have you lost your mind?” She glared at him.
It’s fine. This is just a negotiation. He was a god at negotiation. “Hell no” was only a starting point in divorce proceedings.
“I think it’s perfectly reasonable,” he said, propping his head on his hand, mentally preparing his argument.
“You and I. Have a baby together. On purpose,” she said, as if trying to piece together the dumbest thing anybody had ever uttered.
“It makes perfect sense. You want a baby. I was pursuing this for myself, trying to find a surrogacy agency who I liked and who liked me. I’ve tried finding people who wanted to do this in real life, but they all wanted marriage and romance.”
She took a breath to argue, but he kept going.
“You and I would never fall in love.”
Allison snorted loudly. “Obviously, but—”
“We would never get married.”
“Nooooo.” She shook her head, looking appalled.
He leaned up, making his case. “We have the same goals. We have the same expectations. I have plenty of money.” She rolled her eyes. “And you”—he raised an eyebrow—“don’t have a safety net.”
She stared at him, brows furrowed, and flopped onto her back in the smallest queen bed ever made.
Not saying no.
Ha! He knew when he’d bested somebody. “And you love my family. And for some unknowable reason, they love you too.”
His mom glowed any time she talked about Allison and their fabric shopping trips. She and Olivia had become fast friends when Olivia had moved back. Pop always loved to tell him how Allison would make sure he could safely reach all his ingredients whenever she’d stopped by the diner.
Allison sat up abruptly and pulled off her thick sweater. “This is absolutely ridiculous.”
Wells’s pulse jumped until he realized she had on a thin T-shirt underneath. “Now you’re not cold?”
“No, because I'm mad,” she said, tossing it on the floor and flopping back onto the bed.
“You’re mad that I’m offering to have a baby with you? Making your one dream come true?”
C’mon, c’moooon. You know this is a good idea.
“Okay, not mad, just…” She glowered at him. “Flustered. This is weird.”
That’s not a hell no.
“If anything were to happen to either of us, the baby would be taken care of,” he said, pitching her harder. “We’d have a contract spelling it all out. You and I would never get married. We’d each cover half the childcare costs.”
Her pretty eyes scanned his face. “But we hate each other.”
“We want the same thing,” Wells countered quickly.
“A healthy, happy baby, without romantic attachments. They’d have more support—a built-in fallback if something were to happen to either of us.
They’d have financial security, never want for anything.
Unless you’re bringing in a mid-six-figure income overseeing a small-town floral shop? ”
She glared at him. “I would have had better financial security after working my ass off for—”
“I know, I know, I know,” Wells said, sighing and lying back, mimicking her pose. “Except for the evil divorce lawyer hired by your absolutely blameless ex-husband who tripped and fell into an employee of his again and again and again.”
Allison snorted.
“Is that a laugh?” he said, angling his head on his pillow so they were nose to nose.
Her mouth pursed, not giving him the satisfaction of agreeing.
On the home stretch. “Our values are the same—it’s your personality I don’t like.”
She burst out laughing.
He did like making her laugh though. That’s an unfortunate realization. “Plenty of people don’t like their child’s other parent.”
“I don’t know your values, though,” Allison said, turning with her brows creased together in a way that made her look annoyingly adorable. “What if your kid was gay or trans or loved somebody of a different race? Would you make them be religious?”
“I don’t make me be religious,” he said, horrified. “All of that’s fine. I just want a healthy, happy kid. Experience all the fun things with them, see the world through their eyes, pass on the parts of myself and my mom and my sister that I love.”
Allison shook her head, like she was scolding herself. “This is…it’s crazy. People don’t do this. It’s hard enough when kids have parents who used to love each other and then turned bitter.”
Wells countered, “You and I can be civil.”
They stared at each other for a beat and burst out laughing at the thought.
“As long as potluck foods aren’t involved,” Allison said, laughing.
“I guess we haven’t set this mattress on fire yet.”
Their laughing eyes caught at the unfortunate double meaning. It hung like a lingering cloud between them.
Charging the air in the room.
Wells gulped at the thought of doing what he’d imagined years ago with her. Having her long legs wrapped around him, kissing her again. Hearing her moan.
He’d imagined it on lonely nights more than he’d ever admit.
Allison shook her head quickly, as if to clear it. “Who would be the primary parent?”
This is happening.
“We both are,” Wells said, getting excited.
“Ha, right.” A derisive shake of her head. “Ask any mother about the mental labor they do. I’d do all the work, and you’d get all the fun.”
“Says who?” Wells said defensively.
“Society.”
“Is that what you expected from Keith?
“Yes.”
Fucking Keith. If a jet ski were a person.
“Let me paint a picture for you,” he said, holding his hands out wide.
“You drop the baby off at my house for the week. They would be fed, cuddled, and taken care of. Doctor’s appointments and playdates happen, snacks are made, naps are had.
You? That week, you sleep in, do errands without a toddler clinging to you.
Rest. Go get your pink repinked,” he said, flipping the end of her silky hair.
“Then live your best mom life when I hand off the kid.”
Allison fiddled with the chipped polish on her nails in the moonlight, thinking.
She’s thinking, and that’s not a no.
Frankly, he’d expected her to shove him out into the ice storm for even suggesting it, so this was progress.
The chill in the air must have cooled her off. Wells’s eyes caught on her nipples that had pebbled in the cold, pushing against her thin t-shirt and bra.
He dragged his eyes up to her face and gulped, trying to keep a handle on his erection that wouldn’t fucking go away.
She glared at him. “How? A turkey baster?”
Jackpot.
He shrugged, asking for what he’d envisioned every time he’d taken his cock in hand for the last week. “Or…the old-fashioned way.”
I am the smartest man alive.
She barked out a laugh, shook her head, and turned away from him in the bed. “This is ridiculous.”
He tucked the comforter around her shoulders.
“What are you doing?” She sounded scandalized.
“You’re cold—” He bit off the word dummy before it escaped.
This woman was so annoying. The martyr who couldn’t wait for people to notice her martyrdom. Why didn’t she just ask for what she wanted? Didn’t she know she was smart and funny and beautiful? It was like she was waiting for the world to give her permission to live the life she wanted.
“Thank you,” she said slowly.
“We could do it however you’d be comfortable,” Wells said, restarting negotiations. “But we’re two healthy adults who—I’ll admit—have an unfortunate physical attraction. Why not have some fun?”
He leaned over her on his side, and goddamn, it felt nice to be next to someone in bed.
She slowly turned to face him, staring up at him.
“What makes you think I’d want to have sex with you?” She arched an eyebrow as if she had checkmated him.
“Because”—he smiled softly—“I have eyes, Styles.”
Her mouth dropped open in outrage.
That one always was my favorite.
She didn’t turn back around though. Didn’t tell him to get the hell out of the bed they shared.
He tugged her bottom lip with his thumb for emphasis. “And I remember how you moaned when I kissed you.”
She said nothing as his thumb repeated the tug, softer this time. Those lips. He’d thought about them for ages.
Her eyes bored into him as her chest rose and fell.
How you enjoyed straddling me in your cottage.
It had taken every single piece of restraint in his body to only stare at her perfect breasts as she’d straddled him, not caress or kiss or suck them.
He’d imagined doing everything to them since then.
“Us kissing was a long time ago,” she whispered, her eyes catching on his lips. “You said it was pity.”
It had been the biggest lie he’d ever uttered. Being a bigger guy his entire life, the word disgusting had carried too much baggage when she’d hurled it at him. He’d wanted to hurt her right back where he knew it would sting.
There were six inches between them in the bed, and he wanted to close them so badly, to show her how enjoyable making a baby could be.
“Maybe I lied. We could double check,” he offered.
Please.
She looked conflicted, biting her lip as she said, “If you want to. We don’t have to, though.”
He sighed in frustration at her wishy-washiness. “Do you want to or not?”
“I don’t care.” She shrugged, looking at his lips. Licking hers.
“Yes or no?” he said, digging in. Say what you want, damnit.
Her breasts rose and fell hard. “I don’t—If you–”
“Allison,” he said sharply. His hand cupped her jaw and held her in place two inches from his lips. “This is not a trick. I am not lying. I would like to kiss you. Tell me what you want. Kiss me—yes or n—”
“Yes,” she breathed, closing the distance and kissing him.