8. Millie
MILLIE
As the train rumbles below me, carrying me across the city and back to my apartment, I pull out the contracts and cast one more look over them.
I still can’t believe I’m doing this. It feels like it might be happening to someone else entirely, with how distant this feels from my own experience. I can’t believe I’ve actually gone and done it, gone and accepted the offer, signed the contracts to put this whole thing in motion.
Especially knowing that it’s them. The three of them making this offer, as ridiculous as I know that is. Because how in the name of God could they have tracked me down and decided that I’m the one they want to carry their children?
I guess with the amount of money and influence and power they have in this city, they could have had anyone they wanted, but what was it that James said? That there weren’t many women they could agree on, but I was one of them…?
God, that does things to me I’d rather not admit to. There’s something about knowing the desire they have for me, knowing the attraction that still lingers there after all these years, that makes it hard for me to make good decisions.
And I would be lying if I said that it wasn’t an influencing factor in my choice to sign these papers, even though I can see what an abjectly crazy idea such a thing would be.
Because I don’t want to be apart from them again so soon, not when I’ve just found them—and I’m willing to do just about anything to make sure that happens.
Plus…the money.
A million dollars will be put into my bank account the month after this contract is signed, which means that I will soon be a whole lot richer.
My heart skips a beat at the thought. I don’t want to seem superficial, but God, this is the most exciting part of it for me.
Knowing that I’ll be able to provide for Lewis…
I don’t know how I’m going to break the news to him as to what exactly I’m doing with my life right now, but honestly, I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. All that matters is that I’ll be able to get him in with any specialist I want, and make sure he gets the treatment he so obviously needs.
The guys have tried to convince me that Matt will be alright with this, but I’m not entirely convinced by that yet.
I mean, at the end of the day, he’s still my brother, and no matter how they try and convince me that he’ll see sense and understand that this is nothing more than a business transaction, I doubt he’s going to take it well.
My brother is open-minded in a lot of ways, but he’s still crazy-protective about me and Lewis, and I don’t know if that will extend to protesting what I’m about to do here.
But at the end of the day, this is my body. I can choose to do with it anything I want to.
I run through everything they said to me, telling me how I’ll have the very best medical treatment available, that I’ll be cared for in every way they are capable of.
I might not know them well, but there was a sincerity to that part of the conversation that convinced me they must be telling the truth.
And besides…it’s not like I haven’t trusted these men with my body before.
I cross and uncross my legs, shifting on my seat among the commuters as I think about the way Ross hugged me before I signed the contracts.
Sure, I know that he’s excited at the prospect of being a father, but there seemed to be something more to it than that.
Like he was breathing in the scent of me, reminding himself of just how much he enjoys being close to me.
Wishful thinking, no doubt.
Though, by the sounds of it, all of them are single.
Which brings a few more questions to mind—like how three handsome, rich, successful men in their thirties in New York haven’t found a single woman to settle down with.
It could have just be that they’ve been so focused on their careers that they never had time for their personal lives, or maybe they’re just defective in some profound way that I haven’t figured out yet.
Or maybe, like me, they have never been able to match the sheer, seething thrill of that night we spent together.
But there is something that came from that night. Something that I have not discussed with them yet, but that I know will have to come up at some point. The fact that I’ve already been pregnant—and that the child is one of theirs.
There’s some reckless part of me that hopes it all comes out during this process.
Which I know is stupid, but then—this whole thing is a huge ask, right?
And I’m going to be using this money for my son anyway.
If it puts him in contact with his biological father, then that has to be good in the long run.
I don’t know how the hell they’re going to react when they figure out the truth, though.
Anger? Probably.
That’s what I would feel, if I were in their shoes. Especially knowing that it’s not even like I haven’t had access to them. If I had wanted to get in touch with them, I could have reached out at any time through Matt and let them know that they had a little boy.
But I didn’t. I kept it to myself, and now he’s five years old and I think I’m well past the point of no return on that matter.
At home, Lewis is in a good mood. He seems to have perked up since Matt came back from his conference, and I’m more than happy to bounce off of his energy.
“You want to go out and get some of those pastries you like?” I suggest, and he glances up from the coloring he’s doing on the floor, eyes lighting up.
“For real?” he asks, and he sounds so surprised that my chest aches a little. I wish it wasn’t such a surprise to him, when I’m able to do something nice for him like this.
“Yeah, for real,” I reply, holding out my hand to him. “You want to get your shoes on?”
He gets dressed to go out, and I slip my purse into my handbag, glad that, for a change, I don’t have to worry about money.
It’s an odd feeling, to have such an enormous weight lifted from your back that has been pressing down on it for so long, but I guess I’m going to have to get used to it.
Once the implantation happens, there will be a million dollars in my account, and I won’t have to worry about a few hundred here or there.
We head down to the store together, and go to the gluten-free section at the back to find the rocky road croissants that he loves so much.
They’re ridiculously expensive, which is why we don’t have them very often, but they seem to be one of the few foods he can actually stomach without getting sick.
We head to the counter to pay, and he darts between the cracks in the tiles, dodging each one carefully.
“Making sure you have good luck?” I ask.
He glances up at me, his foot hovering over one of the cracks. “I’m making sure that we can get pastries every night.”
I laugh and brush a hand over his sandy-blond hair. “Here’s to hoping, huh?” I murmur, and I pay up and set off in the direction of home once more.
I let Lewis set up a movie and I lay out the pastries on a plate for us to share. Normally, I would be on the computer, doing everything in my power to apply to every job in the greater New York metro area, but it’s nice to be able to unwind with him for a change.
I sit down on the couch next to him, balancing the plate between us, and turn my attention to the small screen of the laptop which is perched precariously on the edge of the coffee table. You can barely it hear it from here, but it’s the best we can do to keep it plugged in while it plays.
“So, what’s this one about?” I ask Lewis, as I put my arm around him and rest my head against his.
“It’s this story about a dragon,” he explains excitedly as the title flashes up on screen. “Uncle Matt showed it to me. I thought it was really cool and I wanted to show it to you.”
“Well, don’t worry, I’ll give you my full review by the time the credits roll,” I promise him, planting a kiss on the top of his head and reaching to tear off a piece of croissant before popping it into my mouth.
I want to make the most of nights like these while I still can.
After all, I don’t know how many more of them I’ll get.
Nights where it’s just the two of us, where the truth of Lewis’s history doesn’t come out to play—before I’m pregnant again, this time likely with multiples, and I go through that whole experience while raising my little boy.
And then, I hand off those children to their fathers—who just so happen to be the same people who brought Lewis into the world.
Now that I put it like that, I know it’s a mess I shouldn’t have let myself get dragged into.
But there was something about the way they looked at me, the hope in their eyes, that made me want to do nothing more than what they were asking for.
How could I not? I’ve already had one child with these men; why not have more?
I lean back on the couch, brushing all that from my mind and bringing myself into the moment once more. Right now, it’s just my son and me, and that’s all I can let my thoughts linger on.