CHAPTER ONE #2
"Humor me. What if it's a boy?"
I thought about it. "Something strong but not aggressive. Classic but not boring."
"So no Tristen Junior."
"Absolutely not. I love you, but one Tristen Wickham is plenty for this world."
He laughed, and the sound vibrated through my legs where they rested in his lap. "What about James?"
"James is nice. James Wickham. It sounds like a character in a Jane Austen novel."
"Is that good or bad?"
"Good. Very good." I smiled at him, feeling warm and content and dangerously happy. "I like James."
"James for a boy, then. Now we just need to crack the girl name problem."
"We have months to figure it out. The baby won't care what we call her while she's still the size of a blueberry."
Tristen's hand stilled on my foot. "A blueberry?"
"That's what the app says. This week, the baby is approximately the size of a blueberry."
Something shifted in his expression. That vulnerable, awestruck look that made my chest tight. "We have a baby the size of a blueberry."
"We do."
"Growing in someone else's body, but still ours."
"Still ours," I confirmed, even though the reminder made something complicated twist in my stomach. It was supposed to be my body. I was supposed to be the one growing our blueberry-sized baby, feeling the first kicks, watching my belly expand with new life.
Instead, I would watch from the outside. A spectator to my own miracle.
"Hey." Tristen squeezed my ankle, pulling me back. "Where'd you go?"
I forced a smile. "Nowhere. Just thinking about the nursery. I was looking at some wallpaper samples today, and I found this gorgeous botanical print that would be perfect."
"Yeah? Show me."
I pulled up the images on my phone and handed it to him, watching his face as he scrolled through my saved options. His eyebrows rose at the price tags, but he didn't comment. After eight years, he knew better than to question my design choices.
"I like this one," he said, turning the phone to show me. "The one with the soft greens and the little animals."
It was my favorite too. A whimsical forest scene with rabbits and deer peeking through watercolor trees. Not too gendered, not too childish. The kind of design that could grow with a child from nursery to toddler room.
"That's my top pick," I admitted. "I was going to order samples this week."
"Order the full roll. Let's do it."
"We don't even know if the pregnancy will stick yet. It's still so early."
The words hung between us, heavy and sharp. Tristen's jaw tightened, and I saw him fighting the same fear that lived in my bones.
"It's going to stick," he said firmly. "And when it does, I want that nursery to be ready. I want our baby to come home to a room that we designed with love, not something we threw together at the last minute because we were too scared to believe."
My eyes burned. "Tristen..."
"I know the risks. I know what we've been through.
But I refuse to spend this entire pregnancy waiting for something to go wrong.
I want to be excited. I want to plan and dream and buy tiny socks that are completely impractical.
" He reached over and laced his fingers through mine.
"I want to do this with you, Aubree. All of it. "
I didn't trust myself to speak, so I just nodded and squeezed his hand until my knuckles went white.
The day of the commemorative photo, I changed outfits four times.
It was stupid. It was a casual lunch at a nice restaurant, not a red carpet event. But Oakleigh always looked so effortlessly put together, and I wanted to feel confident standing next to her in a picture that might end up framed in our baby's room someday.
I settled on a navy wrap dress that Collette had talked me into buying last month. It hugged my curves in a forgiving way, and the color brought out my eyes. I added gold earrings, a simple pendant, and heels that would probably destroy my feet by dessert.
Tristen came up behind me while I was checking my reflection for the hundredth time. His arms circled my waist, and he rested his chin on my shoulder.
"You look beautiful," he said.
"I look like I'm trying too hard."
"You look like my gorgeous wife who's about to meet the woman carrying our baby for a nice lunch. Stop overthinking."
I leaned back against his chest and met his eyes in the mirror. "I'm nervous."
"Why?"
"I don't know. It just feels like a big moment, you know? Taking a picture together, making it official. What if we jinx it?"
"We're not going to jinx it." He pressed a kiss to my temple.
"We're going to have a lovely meal, take a nice photo, and start the documentation of how our family came together.
Fifty years from now, we're going to show our grandchildren this picture and tell them the story of how badly we wanted them. "
The image hit me like a physical force. Tristen and me, gray-haired and wrinkled, surrounded by children and grandchildren. A legacy we'd built together from years of heartbreak and hope.
"Okay," I said quietly. "Let's go take a picture."
Oakleigh was already at the restaurant when we arrived. She stood to greet us, and I noticed she was wearing white. A simple sundress that showed off her tan shoulders and made her look like she'd stepped out of a catalog.
I smoothed my navy dress self-consciously.
"You look amazing," Oakleigh said, pulling me into a hug. Her perfume was light and floral, something expensive that probably came in a tiny bottle. "That color is gorgeous on you."
"Thanks. You look great too. How are you feeling?"
"Good. A little tired, but nothing too bad. The nausea's been manageable so far."
We sat down, and Tristen ordered a bottle of sparkling water for the table. Oakleigh pulled out her phone and showed us the latest ultrasound image, a tiny blob that barely looked human but made my heart clench anyway.
"The heartbeat was strong," she said. "The doctor said everything looks perfect."
I stared at the grainy image and felt tears prick my eyes. "That's our baby."
"That's your baby," Oakleigh agreed, smiling. "Growing right on schedule."
Tristen took my hand under the table and squeezed. I squeezed back, not trusting my voice.
The lunch passed in a blur of small talk and menu decisions.
Oakleigh asked about my interior design business, and I asked about her work as a surrogate.
She'd done this twice before, she explained, helping two other couples become parents.
She spoke about it with such warmth and sincerity that I felt guilty for every paranoid thought I'd had about her.
This woman was giving us the greatest gift anyone could give. The least I could do was stop being insecure about her cheekbones.
After dessert, Oakleigh suggested we take a picture.
"The lighting's really good by the window," she said, pulling out her phone. "We could ask our server to take one of all three of us."
"Great idea," Tristen said, already signaling the waiter.
We arranged ourselves by the window, the afternoon sun streaming through the glass. I stood on Tristen's left, and Oakleigh positioned herself on his right. The server held up Oakleigh's phone and counted down.
"Three, two, one... smile!"
The flash went off, and Oakleigh immediately grabbed the phone to check the result. I watched her face as she scrolled through the images, and something cold slithered through my stomach.
"This one's perfect," she said, turning the screen toward us.
It was a good picture. All three of us smiling, Tristen in the middle with his arms around both of us. But something about the composition made my throat tighten.
Oakleigh was leaning into Tristen, her body angled toward his like a flower seeking sun. Her hand rested on his chest, casual and familiar. Meanwhile, I stood slightly apart, my smile too wide, my posture too stiff.
I looked like the third wheel. The afterthought. The woman who didn't quite belong in her own family photo.
"Let's take another one," I said quickly. "I think I blinked."
We reshuffled, and this time I made sure to press closer to Tristen. But when I looked at the new photo, the same imbalance stared back at me.
Oakleigh's body language was open and warm. Comfortable. Like she belonged at Tristen's side.
Mine was defensive. Guarded. Like I was already bracing for rejection.
"These are great," Tristen said, completely oblivious. "I'll send them to your phone, Aubree. We can print the best one for the baby book."
"Sounds good," I murmured, but my enthusiasm had curdled into something heavier.
Oakleigh was still standing close to Tristen, showing him something on her phone. He laughed at whatever she said, and she touched his arm lightly, a gesture that probably meant nothing.
Probably.
I watched her hand linger on his sleeve, watched her lean in to point at the screen, watched her smile up at him with those perfect teeth and that perfect skin.
And I felt the first whisper of something I didn't want to name curl through my chest like smoke.
She's carrying your baby, I reminded myself. She's doing the most selfless thing anyone could do for you. Stop being crazy.
But as we said our goodbyes and Oakleigh hugged Tristen just a beat too long, I couldn't shake the feeling that somewhere in that beautiful picture of our growing family, I'd already started to disappear.