Chapter Four #2
‘Are there any other options?’ I ask her.
She lets out a sigh and shrugs. ‘We could look overseas where it’s legal for commercial surrogacy, but I don’t know, I just feel defeated after that.’
‘Yeah, I can imagine you would be,’ I tell her. Then, ‘I can’t imagine being in the position you and Connor are, but you know what I mean.’
‘Yeah,’ she says. ‘Ugh, it just sucks, because last night when we met with Jasmine, I’d decided, as you know, and I wanted to tell her that we were ready when she was. But she beat us with the news.’
‘That sucks big time, and not the good kind,’ I agree, hugging her tighter. ‘It’s gonna be okay, though. You two will find the right person at the right time.’
Blake bows her head. ‘I dunno, Dycock. Maybe it’s the universe telling me that I’m not meant to have a kid. I feel like a disappointment to Connor, too.’
‘What does Connor think about it?’ I ask.
‘He wants us to keep considering our options, and so do I. I’ve just been second-guessing myself, and not just about whether it’s meant to be, but if I’d make a good Mum in the first place.’
Encouragingly, I release her from my embrace and shake her shoulder gently. ‘Oh, c’mon. You’d make a great Mum. I saw you last Christmas with your little cousins. And you’re pretty much a mother to me, too. Also…Connor adores you; you know that.’
A quiet laugh slips out of her as she wipes away a tear. ‘I know. Thanks, Dycock.’ She turns to me with open arms, pulling me into a long hug as she says, ‘I appreciate you,’ softly into my ear.
‘Always here to listen,’ I tell her as we break apart, ‘and remind you of how much of a bad bitch you are.’
‘This bad bitch needs to have a wine with you tonight,’ Blake admits.
I cock my head. ‘Are you sure you still want me over to dinner after what happened last night?’
‘Oh, shut up,’ she says, heading up some steps toward the train station. ‘I’ve got the slow cooker on. Seven o’clock. ’
‘Fine!’ I say, certainly not arguing with a free, home-cooked meal.
*
Once I leave my apartment to head to Blake and Connor’s for dinner, my phone vibrates in my hand, a notification from LinkedIn flashing on the screen: Dan Byers wants to connect. Turns out Untold Media likes to follow me everywhere I go.
After a five-minute Uber ride, I arrive at Blake and Connor’s house – an off-white Queenslander in Teneriffe that overlooks the city from a hill.
I ring the doorbell, which chimes in a tune I haven’t heard in a while.
Admittedly, there seems to be a different one each time I visit.
A rotating playlist of welcome bops, if you will.
Oftentimes, I find myself doing a little dance before someone opens the door, or I’m smelling the flowerbed lining the front of the house.
Today, I’m doing a bit of both, as it takes a hot beat for the door to open.
‘Hey there, stranger,’ Connor greets me with open arms.
‘Allo, poppet.’
Connor’s almost always wearing his round rimmed glasses, and his assortment of tattoos is a standout feature against his fair skin, with a sleeve inked on his left arm. Like his interior design work, Connor himself is an art piece.
‘How’s everything going?’ I ask him as I kick my shoes off at the front door.
‘Oh, you know, never catch a break, but can’t complain.’ We walk through the entrance hall, and it honestly feels like I’m walking through it for the first time. ‘Oh yeah, don’t freak out when you see the place. It’s changed a lot since you came over last.’
‘Am I surprised?’ I josh.
In awe, I look very fucking surprised. The-walls-are-now-a-different-colour kind of surprised. The walls used to be white, now they’re Greek blue.
‘I went a little crazy over the weekend and painted the whole house,’ Connor explains.
‘No shit,’ I say, glancing around.
It’s like this every time I come over to their house, so it’s mildly expected now.
Connor’s OCD emerges in full strength when it comes to his house.
He can’t have something the same for too long in the space, otherwise it’ll send him mad, it seems. He’s changed their bedroom about ten times since they’ve had the house, and the couch is always in a different spot when I come over.
Once, in the space of two weeks, he knocked out the kitchen to have a new one built in, just because he felt it was the right thing to do.
Being the talented interior mastermind Connor is, the place has never looked bad after one of his hasty re-arrangements. And good thing Blake admires the constant change.
As we wander through the main hallway, into the living room, I realise the blue paint undoubtedly complements the tone of the house, especially against the white of the remaining walls.
To add to this sneaky trip to Santorini, Blake tells us we’re having slow cooked lamb souvlaki for dinner.
She pours us a glass of Pinot Grigio and the three of us sit on the outside deck, which backs onto an abundance of greenery.
Blake brings out a platter filled with salad, pita bread, and lamb as well as a bowl of homemade tzatziki, sitting it in the middle of the table.
‘Oooooft, looks so good,’ I say, eyeing off the food, the smell making me hungrier by the second.
‘Dig in, boys,’ Blake says, not having to tell us twice.
We sit in silence for about a minute after loading up our plates. Blake and Connor are quieter than usual, which I presume is a result of the news from Jasmine last night.
I want to vent to them about our new coworker Dan and the new job position I desperately want, but my problems seem trivial at best now. Blake knows I want this new position at work, but she doesn’t know of the imminent war looming in my head.
Connor’s lips curl at the corners as he turns to me.
‘So, Kallen…I was at a work event today, and I met this cute yacht broker who’s selling a boat I did the interior design for.
’ Connor’s eyebrows bounce up and down twice.
‘He’s finding it hard with dating apps. He’s looking for something genuine and asked if I knew any single guys, and we got talking about you—’
A big ‘No’ immediately exits my mouth.
‘I showed him a photo of you,’ Connor goes on, ‘and he thinks you’re very attractive and would…like to go on a date with you, if you’re keen.’
My stomach explodes with tiny fluttering creatures. What in the sweet matchmaking fuck is happening? A deep sigh escapes me, followed by a groan, then, ‘Have you got a photo?’
Connor unburrows his phone from his pocket and shows me a photo of Hudson, whose profile photo has my attention from the get-go. Him on a boat at sunset, the wind sweeping through his dirty blond hair, the entire photo engulfed in a golden glow.
‘He seems nice,’ Connor says convincingly. ‘And who knows, maybe you’ll get to go on some fancy yachts if you meet with him.’
I throw my hand into the air. ‘Look, I’m sold at fancy yachts. Anything to get this bitch on a boat.’
‘Well, go on…add him,’ Blake chimes in.
For someone who is exclusively anti-dating, I’m giddy with excitement, given that Hudson is one hundred percent a stunner and one hundred percent my type.
‘Okay,’ I give in, sending him a follow request on Instagram, breathing in the relief as if it’s some form of white powder getting me high. ‘Wingman Connor,’ I say, arching a brow as I take a sip of wine.
‘I can be good at things that aren’t interiors,’ Connor quips, pulling a wink that has half his face crinkled. He raises his glass. ‘To Kallen maybe possibly entering the dating world.’
I beam. ‘And to you both finding the most amazing surrogate to pop out your child.’
They both manage a laugh, which I take in my stride.
We ding our glasses together, and like the crack of a whip, I’m less anxious than I have been.
Might’ve been the wine. Might’ve been Blake and Connor’s company, but a part of me is already curious.
Intrigued of what Hudson might be like, and if he’s as Connor described.
Intrigued about how the next month is going to play out.
Hopeful, too, that I don’t encounter Dan in the lift tomorrow morning.