Page 23 of Damon
“Do you not think this is something we could have discussed before today?” I snap, annoyed at the bombshell she dropped.
“I didn’t know how I would feel until I got here.” She huffs slightly, then straightens her shoulders and stares me down. “After this little one is in your arms, I don’t think we should see each other again,” she says. “Our time together ends as soon as her cries fill the room. I will have done my job, then it will be up to you to do yours.”
“Whatever you wish,” I tell her, then stand. “I’ll advise the nursing staff that I’ll need another room made up for myself and my daughter.” Without another word, I leave.
Chapter ten
The London Maternity Centre
Emma
Damon walks out of the room, his strong muscles tense below his knitted sweater. The sob that has been lodged in my throat for hours finally escapes. As I sit on the bed, propped up by pillows, my face drops into my hands, and I allow myself to cry. These past weeks have been confusing, and today has me completely perplexed. If Connie had been here, he would have been holding her hand and supporting her, and ultimately both of them would have been here for me. But she’s not, so that natural nurturing of an expectant father has transferred to me, the woman pregnant with his child.
With every touch, smile, and reassurance, I fall a little deeper in love with him. The idea of creating a family becomes more and more appealing, but my head knows that’s never an option. He isn’t here with me through choice, merely obligation. I needed to be the one to draw the line and decide when it all ends. It finishes as soon as this baby leaves my body and becomes only his.
The nurse who welcomed us to the department re-enters the room. Sympathetic eyes fall on me as I cry into my palms. “I’m so sorry, dear,” she says. “I wasn’t aware of the situation. Please accept my apologies for making assumptions about who the baby’s parent was.”
I shake my head and attempt to speak, but no words come out. She walks over, then sits on the chair beside the bed, taking my hand between her two.
“Chief Constable McKinney has updated the staff on the situation. We’re making alternative arrangements for him and the little one. Can I ensure that you’re comfortable with the circumstances as they stand?”
“Yes,” I whisper. “It’s for the best.”
“Do you want Chief Constable McKinney here while you’re in labor?”
“Yes, Damon deserves to see his child born.”
“Whether he does or not, you are the one birthing this baby. It’s up to you who supports you through it.”
“I want him here,” I tell her, and look up to assess her reaction. Her expression remains passive.
“And this surrogacy is consensual?” she continues. “Are you being forced to surrender your rights as the mother of this child?”
I shake my head violently from side to side.
“This was how it was agreed with him and his wife, but…” I pause, unable to form the next heartbreaking sentence. She squeezes my fingers, waiting patiently. “She was murdered while I was pregnant. This…” I pull my hand from hers and wave both of them in the air. “This isn’t how it was supposed to be.”
“I understand,” she says kindly.
“How can you? It’s a complete fuck up,” I wail. “This was meant to be easy. A painless arrangement that helped us all.” The desolation that’s been circling in my mind for weeks returns with force. I’m confronted with the reality that I may have made life easier for myself for a short while, but in the process, I’ve broken my own heart. Once again, I’ve hurt myself by trying to do the right thing. I may not be running for my life, but I’m walking away to protect my heart.
“You still have a choice,” the nurse says. “Perhaps it would be beneficial to speak with someone who can advise you on the situation, tell you exactly what your rights are concerning this child. Or a therapist who can help you process it all?”
“I am aware of my rights, and I don’t need a bloody therapist,” I snap. “I need to maintain my side of the contract. I knew what I was agreeing to.” She nods, but her lips press together in a thin line. It’s clear she doesn’t approve of my stance.
“If that’s your decision. When you’re ready, I can tell the gentleman he’s able to return.”
“Okay, I just need a moment,” I whisper.
“No problem. Press the buzzer when you’re ready. Take your time, Emma. This is a monumental day for everyone. But you are the most important person, don’t forget it.”
***
Twelve hours after the doctor gave me the first pill to trigger labor, I start having mild contractions. Damon is sitting on the sofa once more; he reappeared at my room about an hour after leaving earlier. The nurse confirmed he was okay to come in, and he’s been here ever since. We haven’t spoken much, except the odd time he’s asked me if I can feel anything. Which, until this moment, was a firm no.
“Damon,” I say, and he looks up. “Something is happening.”
“She’s coming?” he asks, immediately standing and moving to my side. He takes my hand, then presses the call button with the other. “What does it feel like?”