“You held her for 10 seconds and handed her back like a receipt.”
“I know, Ivy.”
I gripped the edge of the counter because if I didn’t, I was going to throw something.
“It’s a condition we can work on, Ryan. Dr. Patel called yesterday. It appears to be a milder form. The baby will need surgery and follow-up care, but the doctors are optimistic about her prognosis. The doctors are also optimistic about her development and quality of life. And you walked out of that room as if she were a defect.”
“You held her for 10 seconds.”
“That isn’t what I thought.”
“Then what did you think? Because from where I was sitting, you looked at your own baby that you’d asked me to be a surrogate for and decided she wasn’t worth the trouble.”
Ryan sat down on one of my kitchen stools, and something in his shoulders gave way. I watched my twin brother, the man who had driven me home after Gabriel’s father abandoned us five years ago and told me we’d be okay, fold in half in front of me.
“That isn’t what I thought.”
“I lost my job, Ivy.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
“Four months ago. Right after the second trimester scan.”
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