"Where's Mommy?" Sophie asked as I buckled her into her car seat. "Mommy's at the hospital," I said, which was technically true. "She had to help some people today." "Is she sick?" Emma asked.
I could see her starting to worry in that way kids do when they sense something's wrong but don't understand what. "No, sweetheart. She's fine. She just had to do something for work."
It wasn't a lie exactly. Melissa had made it pretty clear that this whole surrogate thing was about her career, about impressing Charles and securing her position at the firm. So, yeah, it was work-related. We went home, ordered pizza, and had what turned out to be one of the nicest evenings we'd had in months.
Without Melissa's pregnancy hormones turning every conversation into a potential minefield. Without the constant tension of living with someone who'd fundamentally betrayed everything our marriage was supposed to represent. The house felt peaceful for the first time in nine months. Around 8:00 p.m., after the kids were in bed, my phone rang.
Melissa calling from the hospital, her voice thick with exhaustion and something that might have been regret. "Grant," she whispered like she was afraid someone might overhear. "Please come. I'm scared."
And for just a moment, I felt something crack inside my chest. Not enough to change my mind, but enough to remind me that once upon a time, I'd loved this woman enough to marry her. Enough to have three kids with her. Enough to believe we'd grow old together on some front porch somewhere, watching our grandkids play in the yard.
But love isn't always enough. Sometimes it's not even relevant. "Call Charles," I said, my voice gentler than it had been in months but still absolutely final. "He's the father, not me."
"Charles is... he's busy. The baby's beautiful, Grant. He has these tiny little fingers, and he's so perfect. And I just... I need someone here who cares about me."
That's when it hit me. The real tragedy of the whole situation. She'd spent nine months carrying this baby for people who saw her as nothing more than a high-end incubator. And now that the job was done, she was discovering exactly how much they actually cared about her as a person.