Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 86537 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86537 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
I’d encouraged her art and unlike her family, I never asked if she was planning to do anything useful with her business degree. I was also probably the only one who still lent her money. Although, to be fair, she hadn’t borrowed from me in a year.
The last time I’d seen Freya was at Christmas in Burlington. She’d made reservations for us at a restaurant that served a traditional Swedish feast, a julbord with cured salmon (gravlax), meatballs (köttbullar), creamy potato-anchovy casserole, a cheese board, malted wines (glögg), and saffron buns for dessert. We ate like a king and queen. And get this…she’d insisted on paying the tab. She’d been adamant that she could afford it. Her ceramics were selling, not to worry.
But old habits died hard, and three and a half months later, I was worried all over again. Something in her tone was too manic, too frenzied.
“And your art?”
“Oh, my gosh, V. I was commissioned to make a series of vases for a gallery in town,” she enthused. “So exciting! I told you about it in December, remember?”
“Uh…”
“They sold like hotcakes! Every single vase. And one of the buyers wants me to make six place settings—salad plates, dinner plates, dessert plates, and mugs, too. It’s going to take a while, but she’s okay with that,” Freya continued excitedly.
“This is good.”
She snickered. “It is good. And you know what’s even better? I can pay you back everything I owe you. And I think that number is approximately fifteen thousand with interest. I’ll have it all to you within three months.”
“Three months,” I repeated.
“Or less.”
“How? From vases?” I frowned at the vegetables as I turned off the burner.
“I wish. The problem with my art is that I constantly have to feed it. I bought a bigger kiln, and I’m toying with the idea of offering ceramics classes to offset the cost of—”
“Then how will you pay me fifteen thousand?” I puffed my cheeks out and let out a stream of air. “Did you rob a bank?”
Or worse? Robbery might have been preferable to hearing she’d met someone who was going to make all her worries disappear.
Freya laughed. “No, I’ve come into a bit of money. That’s all.”
Fuck. “How?”
She went quiet, and that wasn’t good.
“I wanted to wait to tell you this in person.” Oh, no. “It’s a sensitive topic, but it’s a good thing, and I want you to be happy for me.”
“What did you do?”
“Nothing bad, Viggo. But…I’m pregnant.”
My jaw dropped. I swiped my hand over my face as I slumped onto the nearest barstool. “Pregnant? You’re having a baby?”
“Yes and no.”
“That isn’t a yes or no question,” I growled sternly.
Freya just chuckled. “I’m a surrogate.”
“What?”
“You heard me. You’re the first person I’ve told. The only person. I’m not telling my family. This is a secret. All of this is a secret, but not really ’cause I’ll have a belly soon and…I wanted you to know.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I went with, “Why?”
“You’re my favorite person in the whole world, and I love you and—”
“No, I meant…why do this at all? I don’t…I don’t understand.”
That was an understatement. I was reeling.
“A couple of reasons,” Freya replied softly. “I can solve so many problems and do a good deed all at once. I can put money away, experience childbirth, and thinking about someone else will keep me from thinking about demons and regrets…and Anni. My therapist suggested that I find a way to help others and—”
“And you decided to become a surrogate?” I huffed incredulously.
“This is good, Viggo. Be happy for me. Please.”
I tugged at my beard in frustration. What could I do? I had no say here. “I…okay.”
“Thank you.”
“I just want you to be safe.”
“I am.”
We let silence gather for a moment. I wasn’t sure what she was thinking, but I had questions. And they all came out in one big blast.
“How does surrogacy work? Is it your egg or someone else’s? Do you have a relationship with the family? Who’s your doctor? Where will you have the baby? Are you taking vitamins? You can’t drink alcohol. You know this, right? You must eat well and…who will take care of you?”
Freya gasped. “Oh, my God, Viggo. Take a deep breath and—”
“Answer the questions.”
“Okay, okay. I’m taking care of me. Don’t worry, V. I’m seeing Dr. Razminski once a month, taking vitamins, eating well, staying hydrated…no alcohol. I’ve only had the one bout of morning sickness, but the books say it’s early. I’m only seven weeks along. That means I have another thirty-three to go. As far as surrogacy goes—it was my egg. I’m considered a desirable donor, and there was more money involved so I went for it. That’s the extent of my relationship with the father. It’s a business transaction. Nothing else. Honestly, I thought he was gay at first, but I did some research and he was married once.”