Cal nodded. “We’d want someone who’s open to contact. Updates, maybe… shared milestones.”
“That’s very common,” she said. “Some intended parents remain close with their surrogate for years afterward.”
“Do any clients and surrogates get matching tattoos?” I asked. It was another attempt at failed humor.
Both of them looked at me.
“Not that we’re planning that,” I added quickly. “Just wondering how close people get.”
Tessa smiled again. “Maybe friendship bracelets will do. I’ve seen matching necklaces. One couple even gave their surrogate a trip to Greece.”
“Well,” I said. “That’s the bar, I guess.”
Cal rubbed my back in a small, steady circle, the way he always did when I was trying to sound chill and failing. “We just want someone who feels like part of the team.”
“You’ll find her,” Tessa said. “After that, we begin the medical and legal phases. The surrogate undergoes screening and preparation, and you’ll work with a legal team to draft a contract outlining everything—from financial arrangements to delivery plans to what hospital you prefer. Everyone involved will have legal representation.”
I took a deep breath. “It’s a little more complicated than picking up at a New Year’s Eve party and waking up pregnant, isn’t it?”
Cal took my hand under the table again, steady and strong.
“After you’ve chosen your surrogate and all the paperwork is finalized, it’s time for the embryo transfer,” Tessa continued. “We’ll implant one embryo at a time. And then… we wait. It may not work the first time. That’s normal. But once there’s a confirmed pregnancy, we monitor everything closely, and you’ll be involved every step of the way.”
“How long,” I asked quietly. “From now… till that moment?”
Tessa tilted her head. “If everything moves smoothly, you could be matched and medically cleared in four to six months.Embryo transfer shortly after. Pregnancy… maybe within the year.”
A year.
The room felt very quiet.
Cal squeezed my hand again. “We’re ready,” he said. “Truly.”
I nodded slowly. “We’re scared. But we’re ready.”
Tessa smiled. “Then you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.”
CHAPTER 6
“So then sheasked why now was the right time,” I was saying, wine glass in hand. “And I gave this beautiful, heartfelt answer about how having a baby used to feel like a pipe dream and now we’re making it real, and—”
“You cried, didn’t you?” Mrs. Mulroney interrupted, perched on the edge of the velvet ottoman she’d turned into her throne. She had a throw pillow behind her back and was swilling her third whiskey around like she was trying to fling the ice out before it could dilute her drink any more. “Tell me you cried. I need to hear it.”
“Ialmostcried,” I said.
“He cried,” Cal said from the kitchen, where he was cooking dinner for us all—because that’s what he did when he needed to process things. Chicken, lemon, capers, and emotions, all simmering in the same quiet rhythm.
“Ialmostcried,” I repeated, glaring at him over the breakfast bar. “There’s a difference.”
Angus was upside down on the couch. Not figuratively. His legs were up over the backrest, head dangling off the cushion. “Did she show you baby pictures? I hope she showed you babypictures. I’ve already picked out a novelty onesie that says ‘Panic Baby.’”
“She didn’t show us baby pictures,” I said. “She explained the process. Like a professional. A calm, rational,professionalperson who wasn’t wearing a dinosaur hoodie.”
“Someone else’s lack of fashion sense is not my problem,” Angus muttered, patting the T-rex on his hoodie like it was a pet. “Please continue.”
“She started with the application,” I went on. “Then told us how we’ll pick an egg donor from a secure database—photos, personality profiles, medical history, andvoice clips.”
“Oh, God,” Rashida said, lounging by the window like an off-duty angel of judgment. “Voice clips? Why do you need to hear her speak?”
