“That’s great. Have you seen that cute furniture delivery guy again?” She wiggles her eyebrows. “Has he taken off his shirt yet?”
I’d nearly forgotten that I told her about the hot delivery guy. It feels like so much has happened since then. I haven’t even thought of him since that first day, because I’ve been thinking about Cole instead.
Cole, the guy I’ve sworn off for the next nine months…I’m not sure how I feel about that. Not that he’ll be waiting for me or anything. He’s a gorgeous doctor with a skilled cock after all, a hot commodity in the world of single women.
“No, but he’s definitely nice eye candy to have around.” I continue the conversation with Ellie even though my mind has reverted to its happy place. Thinking about Cole.
His lips, his hands, his cock. It’s all great material when I touch myself, but it’s not nearly as good as having him touch me. Feeling his palm slide up my inner thigh, his lips against my neck, his tongue licking and tasting me. We only had sex once, but every moment has been imprinted into my memory, like a movie reel I can watch over and over. Also, I’m creative, so I have mixed in a few fantasies to change it up. My go to is Cole bending me over his desk and fucking me from behind. He’s got one hand on my hip, the other hand on my breast, holding me in place as he thrusts into me hard. My hands grip the edge of his desk as I press my ass into his pelvis, meeting him thrust for thrust.
“Whoa there, killer. I think you’re good.”
I look down to find that I’ve completely smashed the hell out of the Doritos bag. While they’re supposed to be crushed, they’re not supposed to be obliterated. Whoops!
I pour them into the dish, stir, then add a layer of the crumbs on top.
“Are you okay?” Ellie lifts herself up onto the counter beside me. “How are you feeling with the hormones?”
“Like a fucking lunatic. Is that normal?”
“Unfortunately, yes.” She gives me a sympathetic smile, then adds, “You’d tell me if you were having second thoughts, right?”
“Of course!” I busy myself with picking up the empty cans and rinse them out in the sink.
“Brooke.”
I turn to find Ellie watching me, her green eyes filled with emotion. We’re identical twins so it makes sense that sometimes when I look at her, I see a version of myself, but then there are these intense moments where I feel like our minds connect. Like Ellie is infiltrating my thoughts. Like we’re one person.
The last thing I want is for Ellie to worry that I’m not committed to being her and Josh’s surrogate. That she’s bracing herself for disappointment and heartache once again. Since Ellie and Josh have been on this journey to conceive, I’ve been helpless as I’ve watched them get negative test results, disappointing news over and over. What I’m going through with the heightened hormone levels, Ellie has done six times. I have a new appreciation for how resilient she is and how badly she wants to become a mother to her biological child. I want more than anything to give Ellie hope again.
“It’s just different than I thought. That’s all. But I’ve got this.”
Ellie slides off the counter and wraps her arms around me. When she pulls away her eyes are brimming with tears.
“Ugh. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” She wipes at her eyes. “You’re the one taking the hormones.”
She sniffles, and I pull her in for another hug.
“Maybe it’s our twinpathy.”
Ellie laughs. “Right. That must be it.”
When we were younger, I was convinced that Ellie and I had telepathic capabilities. Ellie, not so much. I think it’s all that logical math swirling around in her head. Ellie’s all if A plus B equals C, then B can’t be psychic capabilities. Or something like that.
After dinner, I’m loading dishes in the dishwasher when Josh enters the kitchen.
“Let me help you with those.”
One thing I learned when I lived with Josh and Ellie is that Josh takes pride in being able to fit as much in the dishwasher as possible but not so much that the dishes and utensils don’t get clean. He immediately swoops in and starts to reconfigure the dishes already loaded in order to optimize the dishwasher space. He’s basically playing a game of Tetris with plates. I can’t help but smile. He’s such a nerd. I hand Josh the last plate, then reach for the dish towel to dry my hands. I watch with my wine glass in hand, and after some more rearranging, he finally seems satisfied with its placement and closes the dishwasher. He takes a wet dishcloth and starts to wipe down the counter. I also know that when Josh is under stress, he cleans. Ellie is similar, so needless to say their house is usually spotless.
“So, how’s everything going?” Josh asks.
“Good.”
He folds the dishcloth and hangs it neatly over the edge of the sink, then faces me.
“When Ellie first mentioned your offer to be our surrogate, I thought she was crazy.”
“Gee, thanks.” I try not to sound offended.
