Page 11 of The Surrogate Nanny
“You probably don’t know my name. My name is Simone, but you’ll probably forget,” I sighed as I cut her breakfast fruit in front of her. I watched her little fingers pick up the little bits of strawberries. “Your name is Nori. And...and you like Mary J. Blige and Ms. Rachel on YouTube. I’m your mother. I always will be.” Nori doesn’t dispute those facts while she eats. I smiled and watched her. “No matter what, I’ll always love you.”
Chapter Six
Anthony
“Anthony...are you sure you want to go through with this?” Jonathan asked cautiously.
“Are you trying to talk me out of this?” I asked, raising an eyebrow at him through the mirror I used to tie my tie.
“Anthony,” he sighed. “There are other options.”
“Like joint custody?”
“Would it be so bad? You can give Nori to Simone every other weekend and have a child-free weekend.”
I clenched my teeth in frustration. “I’ve had enough child-free weekends...thank you.”
“I just...I don’t think you’re being fair. Simone carried your child, birthed her, and cared for her as her own. She could’ve been a heartless bitch and wiped her hands clean of the situation and let them take your daughter into foster care, but she didn’t. Whether you want to acknowledge it or not, Simone is Nori’s mother. You’d be doing your daughter a disservice.”
“The original agreement—”
“After the judge rules in your favor, and you know she will, will you be able to look at yourself in the mirror every morning knowing there’s a woman out there grieving the loss of a child and you’re to blame?”
I swallowed down my retort. Jonathan and I went way back. I met him in college, and he was the closest thing I had to a friend. I’d lost my parents and child. I couldn’t afford any more losses.
“I appreciate your advice as a friend, but I need you in lawyer mode now and do what you get paid the big bucks to do.”
“I’m not even a family lawyer.”
“A lawyer is a lawyer.”
“Okay. It’s a beautiful day, and we have some time to kill. Let’s walk over to the courthouse.”
Beautiful was the last word I’d use to describe the day. My leg chose that morning to torment me. Physical therapy was grueling, but I pushed through it with one goal: to be the father my daughter needed me to be. My doctor insisted on prescribing narcotics for pain management, but I didn’t want to be doped up on pain meds all the time or develop an addiction. I would have to learn to live without them.
Maybe it was a bad omen—a painful reminder that my actions were unethical. Doubt settled in as I perspired under the blazing Texas sun. Jane, my wife, always said that everything happened for a reason. But the skeptic in me didn’t see why I had to share my child with another woman I didn’t see as a permanent fixture in my life.
We approached the courthouse when my eyes sought out two beaming rays of sunshine named Simone and Nori Livingston. They wore matching pastel yellow dresses, and Nori toddled beside Simone with two big white bows decorating her ponytails. She even had a tiny white purse that hung in the crook of her arm. My mind worked overtime trying to figure out what a one-year-old might carry in a purse.
Snacks? A small toy? A pacifier?
Before I knew it, I was an orbiting planet being pulled by two suns.
“Simone.”
She narrowed her eyes at me.
I’m sure I’m the last person she wants to see.
“Please call me Ms. Livingston.”
She was playing hardball.
“As you wish, Ms. Livingston.” I leaned on my cane in an attempt to relieve the pressure on my leg.
“How can I help you, Mr. Powell?”
“I wanted to say hi to Nori before—”