Nine Month Contract, page 7
Chapter 11
Surrogates Hired: 1
Irritating Brothers: 3
Wyatt
“No fucking way.”
“No fucking way!”
“No fucking way.”
All three of my brothers repeat the same three stupid words as they stand on my front porch way too early for a Saturday morning, gaping at me like three circus monkeys. I’m beginning to hate Saturday mornings.
“You signed a contract with a surrogate?” Max asks, and his stern tone echoes in off the foothills. He hits me with those concerned-dad eyes that he usually reserves for Everly and Ethan.
I let the screen door slam behind me as I lean on my log cabin and button up the flannel I tossed on before coming outside. My three brothers are staggered on my front porch in various positions of angst, looking at odds with the peaceful mountain view behind them.
Calder is hunched over the log railing, shirtless and obviously hungover. Luke’s sitting at the bottom of my steps, looking like he wants no part of whatever meeting Max must have called after I sent out a group text an hour ago informing my bros of the news. And Max...good old Max...he looks so much like our dad it hurts to look at him sometimes.
I shrug, refusing to answer a question Max already knows the answer to, so he marches up the steps toward me, his eyebrows furrowed with concern. “Wyatt...you’ve done some crazy shit,” he says, shaking his head and gesturing all around him. “I mean...buying this mountain property that you can’t even drive out of in the middle of Colorado winters, for one...”
“That rarely happens,” Calder drawls, running his hand over his inked arms as the brisk morning air bites at his bare skin.
Max huffs, clearly not accepting that answer. “Letting these two morons build up here so the three of you can live out in some crazy hillbilly-mountain-man cult is crazy shit number two...”
I glance up the hill at their cabins, noticing how beautiful they look today. Much better than they did a few weeks ago when I was going to burn them down.
“You’re just mad you didn’t build on Fletcher Mountain,” Luke murmurs loud enough for all of us to hear.
“I didn’t want to build on Fletcher Mountain,” Max bellows over his shoulder at Luke before turning back to me. “And now you’re actually going to raise a baby up here like it’s some sort of Three Mountain Men and a Baby movie?”
“Hey... I never signed up to raise this baby,” Calder snaps, pointing an accusing finger at me. “I don’t do diapers. Didn’t do it for Everly or Ethan, and I won’t do it for your offspring.”
Max releases an exasperated laugh, like he can’t believe the one argument Calder has right now is over diapers. “I thought the fact that you were rejecting all those candidates at the agency meant you weren’t going to go through with this. Now you decided to select a surrogate that my kid found you?”
My jaw clenches, and Max’s face softens when he sees I’m not changing my mind on this. With a heavy sigh, he says, “At least let my lawyer look over the contract before you guys...do it.” Max looks uncomfortable with the last couple of words, and I internally guffaw. What a child.
“I hired my own lawyer, Max. I’m good. The papers are already signed, and we’re doing this.”
“What happens next?” Luke asks, his eyes full of genuine curiosity. He’s got different energy about all of this than Max, and it’s very much appreciated.
“She’s moving into the barn today.”
“What?” all three of my brothers bellow in unison. Jesus, they should start a boy band.
“Lodging was a request of hers, and she needs the barn for her own animal, so this was necessary.”
“What about our mountain pact?” Calder grunts, looking far more awake now and very unimpressed by this tiny detail I left out of my group text.
“You’re the moron who put rural housing available upon request in your ad!”
“I didn’t think that would actually work,” he murmurs, blinking back his disbelief as his eyes flash over to the barn. “The last time we had a woman living up here—”
“That won’t happen again,” I snap, my temper flaring instantly as memories of the past try to flood my vision. I shake them away to the dark corners of my mind, where they’ve been living for the better part of a decade. “This is business, not personal. Our pact remains. You guys don’t even need to interact with her.”
“You didn’t think you needed to run any of this by us first?” Luke asks, his voice showing his anxiety.
“No.” I move down the steps to get some space before I decide to remind them that I own this land and they live here by my invitation. Not that I’d ever kick them out. Honestly, it would kill me to lose them. I picture us all up here until we’re old and gray. But I need them to see the bigger picture here. “Do you guys really care more about the past than my future? I’m trying to start a family here.”
“We just know how hard it was after everything that went down with Robyn.” Max sighs heavily. “You took it the hardest.”
“Don’t say her fucking name,” I grind out, my entire body radiating anger at the fact that my older brother feels entitled to remind me of the past. It’s impossible to forget. And I took it the hardest because I was the one who lost the most.
But that’s ancient history now. Robyn might as well be Lord fucking Voldemort because I do not speak her name. Ever.
“Trista is different. You guys will see. She’s not like other women,” I state honestly. Not that I need their approval. I’m doing this, and my brothers need to get right with it, or we’ll have problems. “This is essentially a nine-month contract. We can handle a female on the mountain for nine months.”
Calder and Luke look doubtful, but honestly, I don’t care. This feels right. It felt right the moment I laid eyes on Trista, and it’s felt right every day since. As weird as it might be to have my niece find me a baby momma, I think her crazy fucking plan just might work. Shit, I could be expecting a baby by the end of the month, maybe.
Calder interrupts my thoughts. “Well, if she’s going to live so close, maybe you should make this baby the old-fashioned way? Lay out some candles...play a little music.”
“If you don’t have anything respectful to say about all of this, then please shut the fuck up.” My tone is flat, knowing I’ve reached my daily quota on word allowance all before breakfast. Damn, these big life changes are fucking with my silent-mountain-man vibes.
Calder laughs and leans back on the log railing, murmuring, “Not even a dad yet, and already sounding like our father. Way to go, Papa Bear.”
I growl my wordless response to Calder about having sex with Trista, knowing full well I’m not going to tell any of my brothers how we’re making this baby. It’s none of their damn business. It’s mine and Trista’s, and no one needs to know exactly how this is all going down.
I fight back a smile as I recall how Trista’s face scrunched up when she made the squeezing motion with her hand to gesticulate the insemination. It was horrifying at first, but now, every time I think about it, I can’t help but laugh.
“You know...inseminate me like a cow. Turkey baster style. You can buy the kits on Amazon. Just pull the semen up into the syringe and shoot it up my bajingo.”
She certainly has a way with words.
In the end, I agreed with her. The contract states that Trista and I will try to do it the “farm way,” as she requested, though it was outlined more scientifically in black and white with mentions of an at-home insemination kit. If we don’t have success in the first month, the contract allows us to try for two more months, and after that, we’ll attempt three cycles of IUI with a clinic. If there’s no success in six months, we both part ways—Trista with a small stipend and me with...well...nothing. But that’s life, I guess. There are no guarantees.
It’s even outlined in the contract what happens if there are any health issues with this baby that are genetically linked to Trista, and, well, she has a say in that decision. Rightfully so. But whatever it is and whatever she decides, I’ll handle it. I’ll devote my life to handling it. I’ll make sure this baby has every need met, even if that means moving off the mountain.
This is my priority now. Nothing else matters. Not even my brothers. I’m ready to become a father. And Trista Matthews is my hope to get there.
This past week, I did a deep dive on her social media to ensure that I made the right choice with her. I had my doubts at first because the girl looks damn near feral in all her Instagram photos. Messy hair, smudged makeup, always some animal in her hands. So many animals, I know she can’t own them all. But oddly enough, that made me feel like I got it right. Like of all the women I interviewed, none were like her—genuine...real—and maybe she was the one I’d been waiting for.
And if we’re successful at this... I will owe my niece big-time.
My phone pings with a text from Everly...as if she could tell I was thinking about her.
Everly: Don’t let my dad cause you to doubt this decision. Trista is perfect, and I have a really good feeling about all of this, Uncle Wyatt. <3
Me: Me too, Evie girl. Me too.
Luke steps forward and slaps me on the back. “I’m excited for you, Wyatt. This is exciting.”
I exhale heavily and look up at Max, who wears a rare proud smile. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but... I’m excited for you too. I hope this all works out.”
“Is our baby intervention over now?” Calder drawls, rolling his eyes. “I have a girl in my cabin and would like to do some baby dancing of my own.” He pauses and holds up his finger. “But hold the baby, please.”
Chapter 12
Ovulation Test Strips Used: 6
Trista
“You said all of that, and he still hired you? You must have been dressed real slutty,” my sister, Vada, drawls as I drive the shelter van through the winding roads north of Boulder toward Jamestown.
The van is stuffed to the gills with most of my belongings, and my boss, Earl, said I needed to get his vehicle back no later than 2:00 p.m. today because he has a litter of kittens to pick up in Nebraska. It took me longer than expected to load everything up on my own, so I’m for sure going to be late, which will infuriate Earl. This means he’ll do his gruff, chastising speech about time management and threaten to fire me for the tenth time.
Thankfully, he’s all talk because my life is not conducive to punctuality. When you have to do everything on your own, the last thing I remember to do is look at the clock.
But I will need to work on my tardiness now that I’ll have about an hour commute to work every day, or Earl could put his money where his mouth is and drop me. The drive to the shelter isn’t ideal, but I knew after laying eyes on that barn, there was no way I wouldn’t want to live on Fletcher Mountain.
“Fletcher Mountain,” I say to myself with a laugh. What a lame name for a peak. I realize that’s their family name, but couldn’t he have created something more inspired? Like... Three Brothers Peak, or heck, he could have named it after his goat.
Mount Millie!
Now, that has a nice ring to it and would look super cute on some custom T-shirts. I might suggest that...you know...after I get knocked up and feel secure in actually staying there.
And the barn apartment is a dream come true for an animal lover like me. Frankly, that big barn is wasted on his single pet goat. So many empty stables that could be filled with all sorts of critters. I love the idea of a full barn below me as I sleep. And I didn’t tell Wyatt this, but the apartment is nicer than the place I just moved out of. It’s a converted hayloft with vaulted ceilings, all-natural timber, and exposed beams. Refurbished barnwood floors with southwestern-style rugs laid out everywhere. It’s a studio style that flows effortlessly from the kitchen into a living and dining area, with a queen bed beneath salvaged windows. It has a rustic charm that HGTV could never pull off. Throw in the enclosed bathroom and a mountain view—what more could a girl want?
Although I will admit, when I saw the outdoor shower on the side of the barn, it sparked my curiosity about how often Wyatt might need to use that. There’s a perfect view of it from my bathroom window, and something tells me that man gets dirty out here on the mountain during the hot summer months.
Do not have indecent thoughts about the mountain man whose baby you’re going to carry, Trista!
“Trista?” Vada echoes in my ear, snapping me out of my thoughts. “Did you hear my question? I asked what you were wearing. You must have looked skanky for him to hire you after you told him you owned a potbellied pig.”
“I didn’t look skanky,” I state flatly. “Actually, my clothes had puppy pee on them.”
“He has to be crazy. Totally fucking crazy,” she replies, and I know she’s being serious but not serious enough to be genuinely concerned about my well-being. “What’s the next step, then?”
“Well, I suppose we do the insemination song and dance, then wait to see if it worked.”
“This is totally crazy!” she squeals into the line, and I really wish she could come up with another word to describe this because she’s wearing on my last nerve. “I think it’s weird you’re going to donate your own egg. You’re going to give your baby to this mountain man and never see it ever again?”
“I’m not giving him my baby. I’m giving him my egg. It doesn’t become a baby without his...sperm.” I cringe at that thought.
“And your uterus.”
“Obviously.”
“But seriously, you don’t think you’re going to give birth to this baby that’s yours and feel any type of way?”
Not when I know it will go to a man who truly wants it. It’s already blatantly obvious this child will be loved. Cherished. And I will be one hundred percent okay with that. “No, Vada, trust me...the lawyer had me do a full psychology workup and a couple of sessions with a counselor, plus some medical testing on both of us. I’m like...bulletproof. Honestly, I got the impression the psychologist thinks I might be a sociopath.” Because heaven forbid a woman not want to be a mother.
“Oh, that’s comforting.”
“And by donating my egg to him, I make another twenty grand.”
“Twenty grand on top of the fifty-five grand plus free housing? Holy shit, this sounds too good to be true!”
“Well, cutting out the surrogacy agency saved him a considerable amount of money, and rather than keeping all of it, he’s giving a lot of it to me. He’s been super generous through all the negotiations. I get the impression he’s just happy not to have to go back to that agency, and I don’t blame him. I did not get good vibes when I was there either. I seriously owe so much to his niece for approaching me. I wonder if I could send her a kitten!”
“This is all so crazy. Then again, I never want to be pregnant, so I can’t even understand people who do.”
Her tone is full of disgust, and my hands instinctively tighten on the wheel. I mean, I get it. Our upbringing wasn’t exactly the cozy family vibes the Fletchers seemingly have going on. Our parents acted like they loved us, but they loved themselves more.
Oftentimes, we’d go days without seeing them. I remember when we’d get low on food, Vada would stand outside our apartment complex, waiting for a random delivery vehicle to show up. She’d rush to the car and say her mom sent her down to grab it, and the pizza guy would just hand it over. My sister was always so brave and resilient. I admired her for that.
And it wasn’t even drugs or booze that took my parents away from us. I think if it was addiction, I could understand their neglect better. It was just selfishness. They were always between jobs and looking for that next big thing that would turn their life around.
And somehow, that was our fault. “If we didn’t have you girls, we’d be in a much better place. If I hadn’t had kids, I could have gotten that job. Kids can’t come to places we want to go.” And when you get told that year after year, you can’t help but hear “I wish I’d never had you. Then I’d be happy.”
It was traumatizing and not exactly something that inspired me to want a family of my own. And even though I know I’m a better person than both my parents put together, I can’t get past the fear of hurting a child the way my parents so easily hurt me. Which is why animals are the safer bet.
However, a strange part of me still wants to know what it would feel like to have something growing inside me. To have something that I create with my own body. Will it feel like a mini alien trying to kick its way through my ribs? Will this even work, and I’ll get the chance to know? Something in me feels like my strange upbringing might make me uniquely good at this.
Either way, maybe telling my sister was a bad idea. Our relationship is strained at best. She moved to Hawaii with her boyfriend, Kai, when I was just sixteen and hasn’t returned to Denver once. Meanwhile, I’m still here...living alone in the same place we grew up in and trying to make a life for myself. It’s hard not to feel like everyone left me behind.
A knot forms in my throat as the image of me standing in our empty family apartment flashes through my mind. I thought I’d feel relieved when I left earlier today...like I was finally getting out. But honestly, I just felt sad. Like all my childhood had to show for itself was a dingy, worn-down two-bedroom with potbellied pig stains on the carpet.
“How does this dude have this kind of money on hand? Is he loaded?”
My sister interrupts my inner musings, and I lift my shoulders. “He and his brothers build houses. They make a lot of green homes with eco-friendly and recycled materials. I guess they’re in high demand.”
My mind ruminates over him mentioning in one of our meetings that his own cabin is self-sustainable. I was equal parts impressed and fascinated. I’ve never met someone like Wyatt Fletcher. Someone who puts the world before himself. Certainly not my parents.
