Page 63 of The Surrogate Nanny
“Good morning,” I replied with a gracious smile, not bothering to correct him.
What’s the point?
“As I said to Mr. Powell, we apologize for the late arrival of your meal. We included extra snacks for the little one and a bottle of champagne.”
“That’s so considerate. We appreciate it,” I said, sitting in one of the chairs. Nori wobbled over as soon as I unrolled my silverware, motioning at her mouth with her fingers. I picked her up, sat her beside me, and wondered how long she’d stay there before her father snatched her up.
Two minutes.That was how long Nori stayed seated before she was in Anthony’s lap, picking off his plate. I encouraged him to let her eat from her own plate, but I was promptly ignored.
“What are you thinking about?”
“Hm?” I asked, taking my attention away from the distant parasailer. It looked like fun, but I preferred my feet on the ground.
“What are you thinking about?”
The corner of my mouth curled into a smile. “How this is the best birthday ever.”
“Already? We haven’t even gotten to the fun part yet.”
***
“You belong on a calendar on my office wall,” Anthony praised, causing me to blush as I attempted to concentrate on building a princess sandcastle for our daughter. He’d been giving me compliments like Halloween candy since I removed my coverup, revealing a black triangle string bikini. Some compliments were tasteful, and others were downright raunchy and had to be whispered in my ear to prevent little ears from overhearing.
If I didn’t know before, I know now that I’m getting birthday sex.
I chewed my bottom lip anxiously. I only had sex once, and that was five years ago. I was so out of practice that I might as well be a virgin. Realistically, I knew Anthony didn’t expect me to be a porn star in bed. Still, my anxiety was getting the better of me.
Maybe I should tell him how I feel?
“It sounds like you need to take a dip in the ocean to cool off,” I said as I eyed Nori suspiciously. She looked oddly interested in the sand in her hand. My motherly instincts were right when she brought the handful of sand to her mouth. “Nori, put it down!” She stared at me defiantly and inched her hand closer. “Anthony.”
He nudged his sunglasses down his nose and addressed her. “Nori, listen to your mother. Put the sand down.” She frowned before tossing the sand away and returned to shoveling. “Don’t pout, Simone.”
“I’m not pouting,” I grumbled.
“Will you stop pouting if I give you one of your birthday gifts early?”
I perked up at the word ‘gifts.’ I wasn’t accustomed to being on the receiving end of gifts, even in childhood. Money was always tight, and a birthday gift from my parents was a verbal reminder that they gave me life and I had lived to see another year. I looked at Nori and recalled her first birthday—I did it all. I bought the cake from a little bakery around the corner from our apartment. It was a white cake with vanilla buttercream icing decorated with pink and purple frosted flowers. The center spelled, “Happy Birthday, Nori!” in cutesy calligraphy. The dollar store had everything I needed to throw a little party for me and her—streamers, balloons, party hats, and purple and pink saucers and forks for our cake and ice cream. It wasn’t much, and some might’ve called our little party sad, but when Nori looked back on her childhood photos, she’d know I put in the effort. Back then, I couldn’t give her a fairy tale birthday with ponies and a petting zoo like Anthony planned for next year, but I could give her unconditional love.
“I might,” I answered.
“Good. Close your eyes and hold out your hand,” Anthony instructed before reaching into his backpack. I complied and waited impatiently for my gift to be dropped into my palm. I felt something light graze against my hands, and Anthony gave me permission to open my eyes. I stared at the white envelope with my name scrawled across the front in Anthony’s handwriting.
“God, you write terribly. I swear you can be a doctor.”
“I’m better with numbers. Open it.” I tore open the envelope and pulled out my gift. My eyebrows furrowed at the nearly blank check written to a local college I considered enrolling in. The memo line read ‘tuition.’ “You have no excuse to not go, so when you’re ready, the money is there.”
“Oh, Anthony...this is too much,” I whispered, moved by his generosity.
“Nonsense. It’s in your employee contract.”
“Paying my college tuition wasn’t in the contract,” I argued.
“Maybe you didn’t read the fine print.”
I smirked. “The fine print...right,” I drawled, returning the check to the envelope. “You won’t let me turn this down, will you?”
“No.”