8
Olivia
I retire for the night not long after dinner and our discussion about surrogacy.
He shows me to the bathroom, and I’m relieved for a hot shower. I’ve been using the campground facilities to bathe. It’s quite a drive away from the city, which hasn’t helped me conserve fuel.
The shower is heavenly. Hot water pours over me. I take longer than I should and eventually wash every bit of grime from my skin. I’m not that dirty physically, but I feel disgusting until it all swirls down the drain.
I climb under the covers. The bed is firm, and the sheets are cool.
There’s a silence that fills the room, with no traffic constantly passing by the road.
There are no sounds at all. It’s hard to fall asleep at first, in an unfamiliar bedroom, but it’s nice to have a bed and not have to sleep in my car.
I was too afraid to ask how much I would owe Jace if I can’t conceive. I’m still considerably young, twenty-four, and should be able to have another child.
But what if I can’t?
What if I don’t get pregnant?
* * *
I awaken the following day. The house smells of bacon and eggs. Climbing out of bed, I scamper down the stairs to the kitchen.
For a billionaire, his house is relatively normal. It’s bigger than my apartment where I used to live, but the place isn’t probably more than two thousand square feet. Modest for a man who makes more money in one month than I will in my lifetime.
“Good morning,” Jace says, standing in front of the stove. He’s in dark blue sweatpants and a white t-shirt.
He looks sexy.
But I can’t let my thoughts go there. That’s a bad idea. This is strictly business, nothing more, and the chance for a fresh start.
“Morning,” I say. “I thought you’d be at work already.”
“I’ll go in a little later this morning. I want to make sure you get settled into your apartment this morning. Matteo is going to swing by here with the keys to your place.”
“Oh, that’s nice of him.”
I have no idea who Matteo is, but I’m glad I will have a roof over my head.
“Also, my lawyer texted me this morning and can have the papers ready by the end of the business day. If you want to meet tonight, we can go over them together and sign the documents.”
“Yeah, sure,” I say.
I don’t have anywhere else to be. The sooner, the better.
“Do you mind if I grab something to drink?” I ask.
“There’s orange juice, milk, and water in the fridge. Coffee is in the carafe.”
“Cups for coffee are where?” I ask. I’m unfamiliar with the layout of his kitchen, where he keeps everything stocked.
He strides quickly to the coffee pot and above it opens the cabinet, retrieving a mug. “Here.” He hurries back to the stove, flipping the bacon.
“Thanks,” I say.
I pour a mug of coffee and open the fridge, grabbing a bottle of flavored creamer. My favorite. It’s like the man knows the way straight to my heart.