Her Last Wish (12 page)

A strange expression that
I couldn’t decipher crossed his face. He quickly wiped it away and replaced it
with a smile. “It’s not important. What
is
important is that I won’t be
allowing this to happen again. Don’t get me wrong. I love waking up to your beautiful
face. It’s just that I can’t handle the guilt that comes with making you take
care of me when you should be caring for yourself right now.”

My face burned at the
mention of waking up to me. I probably didn’t plan that out very well. I should
have just called a cab and left. But I was too afraid that something would
happen to him when he was too drunk to do anything about it. “It’s not a big
deal. Just don’t scare me like that again.”

He frowned. “I didn’t
mean to scare you. This is the last time, I swear.”

I nodded. “So …” I
gestured to his jeans and lack of other clothing. “Is that how you always dress
for waffles with students?”

“Only the ones that
drag my drunken ass home after I embarrass myself in front of a ton of people
that I don’t know. Why? You like?” He waggled his eyebrows, clearly joking with
me.

I laughed without
answering and sat down at the table next to him.

“So what do you have
planned today?” he asked, just before sticking a bite of waffle in his mouth.

“Well, Jackson was
supposed to come over, but he’s kind of mad now. I don’t know if that’ll happen
anymore.”

“Mad? About what?”

I stared at him for a
brief moment. “You seriously don’t remember?”

“If you’re talking
about last night, I remember very little of anything.”

“Do you at least
remember Jackson being with me?”

“No.”

“You fell, and I tried
to get you up. And then you kissed me.”

His face paled, and he
nearly choked on his food. “I what?”

“And I know you didn’t
mean anything by it,” I quickly added before he could get too embarrassed about
it. “I know you were just drunk. But he was right there. He obviously took
offense to it.”

“Yeah, I can imagine he
would.” He looked down at his plate. “So what are you going to do?”

“I guess I’ll do what I
usually do when he’s mad at me. I’ll bake him something. Thanksgiving is coming
up, anyways. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind having a pie or something around. He
usually stays in town for it, because his family is pretty far away. He might
like a little something to celebrate it with.”

“Food is a pretty good
apology.” He grinned, stuffing away another bite of his apology waffles.
“Speaking of which, what do you usually do for Thanksgiving?”

“Sit around at home.
Catch up on sleep. Usually Jackson comes over for a bit, but usually one day
during the week. Rarely on Thanksgiving Day.”

“No meal? Family?”

I shrugged. “My parents
are pretty far away, too. And there’s no point in cooking a huge Thanksgiving
meal for just me.”

“Why don’t you spend it
with me and my family?”

Huh? That seemed a
somewhat odd suggestion to me. I knew I was carrying his and his wife’s child,
but didn’t meeting his family require some sort of … relationship? Did
surrogates even do that sort of thing? I supposed friends could, and we were
definitely that, but I somehow thought the friendship had to be … more.
Besties, maybe, but I just hadn’t known him that long. “I don’t know …”

“It’s not a strictly
family thing. My parents come over. Savannah will come over with her boyfriend
or whatever he is now. It became somewhat of a tradition when Elizabeth was
alive. Now, they just come over, regardless, because I guess that’s how
traditions work. I have to admit that I’m not very good at huge, complicated
meals. This is about the extent of my culinary expertise.” He gestured to the
waffles. “Usually we just order pizza. But you’re more than welcome to share a
slice.”

“Pizza? For
Thanksgiving?” I tried to not laugh, but it was so difficult. He had such a
huge kitchen and apparently plenty of people to cook for, but he was talking
about ordering pizza. What a waste!

He shrugged. “Or we can
get whatever you want. I’ll buy, of course.”

“You know what? You get
me the food, and I’ll cook it. Traditional Thanksgiving meal, as many courses
and sides as you want. I’ll take care of it.”

“Will you be coming to
the store with me so I know what you need?”

“I suppose I can.”

“Then it sounds good to
me, as long as you’ll be there to enjoy it with us.”

“Yeah, I can do that.”
I smiled. I had to admit that it would be nice to spend a holiday with people, for
a change. “How will you explain me, though?”

He shrugged. “If you
like, I can just say that you were a student in need of a good Thanksgiving
dinner and conversation. It’s the truth, isn’t it?”

“Aren’t they going to
ask about …?” I pointed to my bulging belly. “And won’t it seem weird when you
magically have this infant that no one knew about?”

“Oh. Well, I suppose we
can just … I don’t know.”

I laughed and shook my
head. “Do I need to pose as a girlfriend so the random baby you’ll be handed in
a few months doesn’t seem out of the ordinary? You can say I didn’t want to
play parent and ran off. I don’t mind looking like the bad guy.”

He stared at me for a
minute. I couldn’t read his expression, at all. Just before I started to wonder
if I’d somehow crossed a boundary, he replied, “Did you
want
to pose as
a girlfriend?”

I shrugged. “If you
think it’ll make it easier. I know parents can be weird about more
non-traditional things, like a single guy choosing to find a surrogate to carry
his wife’s baby. My parents would probably freak out over it. If it’ll help you
out, it’s only one day.” I tried to play it cool, but it was just easier for me
to accept the invitation if his parents would think we were together. Something
about saying,
Hi! I’m your son’s surrogate, so he and his dead wife can
procreate
, just made me uncomfortable.

“That would make things
a
lot
easier, actually. If you’re up for it, that would be great.”

“That’s what friends
do.”

“Right,” he said in a
strange tone. “So if you want to use my oven for that fancy pie you want to
bake for your guy, you’re welcome to it. I’ll get you the ingredients. And I’ll
take you there when you’re ready. I saw you didn’t have your car.”

“Oh. Yeah, he drove.
And he didn’t want to stay, so …”

“So he just left you here
with a drunk, who had no knowledge of his surroundings and no sense of
self-control? Are you serious?”

I shrugged. I supposed
it sounded way worse when he put it that way. But I told myself that Jackson
had a good reason. And I was pretty sure he knew I wasn’t in any real danger.
Didn’t he?

“Where does he live?”

“He’s in the dorms.”

“That’ll work out then.
I’ll go get my work done and drop you off at the same time. If he gives you a
ride home, fine. If not, I’ll be nearby for a few hours. I’d be happy to take
you home, too, if you need.”

I smiled. “Okay. That
sounds good.”

Chapter Seventeen

Charlie

Instead of letting
Connor buy all the ingredients for a pie intended for Jackson, I went with him
to the store. After I cleaned up and changed into a new set of clothes, of
course. For whatever reason, Connor had a new pair of maternity jeans and a
comfy, cream-colored sweater just lying around, along with a new pair of boots.
I had a sneaky suspicion he’d bought them as yet another gift, but I didn’t
question him. I was too grateful to get out of that dress to complain, anyways.
As always, the company was nice, too. I had almost forgotten what it was like
to do everything by myself with Connor around.

I decided on an apple
pie, because it was Jackson’s favorite and wouldn’t take as long to make.
However, I made one for Connor’s house, too. It was the least I could do after
all the things he’d done for me. Plus, I couldn’t believe he had eaten pizza at
Thanksgiving since Elizabeth’s death. I didn’t know her, of course, but I had a
feeling it would make her at least a little bit sad if she’d known. I was glad
I got a chance to change that. Besides, he was thrilled with the fresh-baked
smells that permeated his house by the time I was done.

Once Jackson’s pie was
cool enough for me to carry, Connor and I got in the car and drove to the
dorms.

“So I’ll be in my
office for a few hours. If you need a ride home, come find me. Got it?” Connor
instructed. His expression was so uncompromising that I briefly wondered if
something else was up. It was as if he almost
wanted
me to need a ride
home from him. I felt oddly warm and tingly inside at the thought. I chalked it
up to temporary lapse in judgment caused by the glorious view of my shirtless
personal chef that morning in combination with pregnancy hormones. If I gave it
time, I was sure it would pass.

“Yeah,” I replied. I still
hoped to not need a ride home from Connor, but it was nice to have a backup
plan. I had hopes that Jackson would have already forgiven me. Unfortunately, I
couldn’t have been sure. He had been awfully mad when he left Connor’s house
the night before.

After a smile and a
quick wave, Connor drove off toward the main campus.

I hurried up to
Jackson’s room. The hallways were mostly empty, as I’d expected they’d be
during a holiday week. Most of the students had families they’d rather see. I
didn’t blame them, of course. I wished mine were closer so I could see them, too.

I loudly knocked on the
door. Through the wood, I heard a loud shushing sound and two female giggles.
Then, a thud, as if someone had fallen. I narrowed my eyes in confusion. What
in the world was going on in there? Maybe it was the TV?

About a minute later,
far longer than it should have taken to get from the back of a tiny dorm room
to the front, Jackson opened the door in a wrinkled pair of jeans that looked
as if they’d been dug out of the laundry and thrown on in a hurry. His hair was
a complete mess, something I didn’t see very often. Surely I hadn’t woken him
up. …

When he saw me, his
face went pale. “Charlie,” he said, running his hands through the blond chaos
on his head. “What are you doing here?”

“I … Well …”
I
brought this for you.
The words were right there on the tip of my tongue.
But I just couldn’t bring myself to say them. Something just wasn’t right.

He took a step out in
the hall, forcing me to take a step back. “You shouldn’t be here. You know
girls aren’t allowed in the dorm after hours.”

“After hours? It’s
early afternoon.” I narrowed my eyes at him when I heard another female giggle
from inside his room. There was no mistaking it that time. Without thinking, I
reached my leg around him and kicked the door open to find not one but two
naked girls inside. His roommate (also naked) was busy keeping one
plenty
entertained in his lap. The other rested comfortably on Jackson’s bed.

The pain from Jackson’s
betrayal was crippling. It was one thing to have a drunken guy kiss you. It was
something totally different to have sex with someone else while you, yourself,
were completely sober. I couldn’t stop Connor’s stunt. I might have been sober,
but Connor was too strong.
Connor
couldn’t stop his stunt. He was far
too gone. But there was no one to blame for Jackson’s actions other than him.
And that bit of knowledge killed me inside.

“Shit,” he grumbled. “I
can explain.”

I felt my anger boil to
the top, but I did my best to contain it. Explain? I wasn’t in the mood to
listen to whatever load of bull he decided to spew at me to try to make
anything better. “Yeah, don’t bother. I brought this for you, because I know
it’s your favorite and I wanted to apologize for upsetting you last night. But
now I’m suddenly not so sorry. But I hope you enjoy the pie, anyways.” I took
my still warm-from-the-oven, homemade pie and hit him square in the chest with
it, causing cinnamon and apple goo mixed with chunks of flaked off pie crust to
ooze down his chest and into the floor. The tin fell to the ground with a loud
crash. Okay, so perhaps my anger wasn’t quite contained, after all. Either way,
I turned and ran.

I heard him call after
me and cuss about that pie still being hot. But I hoped it burned him. I hoped
he was in as much pain on the outside as I was on the inside. Unfortunately, I
highly doubted it.

“Charlie, stop!” he
called again, running down the hall.

I ignored him, shoved
the huge doors open, and ran outside. My tears burned my face in the freezing
cold air. I wasn’t sure where I was going, anymore, but I was running there as
fast as my pregnant legs could carry me.

***

Connor

“You’re going to be
cooking?” Savannah asked sitting in one of the guest chairs in my office. “And
you expect us to eat it? Without dying?”