Watching the procedure was more difficult than I thought it would be. The hardest part ... knowing that Sophia would have been ecstatic, but I can't allow myself to succumb to the joy that I want to feel. Mostly because it's simply not there.

I wanted to watch the ultrasound monitor and feel that rush of adrenaline as I saw the embryo being implanted in her uterus. But I couldn't even bring myself to watch. I was there ... but I wasn't.

Instead, I was with my wife three years ago when we first began our journey to harvest her eggs. She was beyond excited when they told us the success rate was high, given the fact that neither one of us had a history of birth defects or genetic abnormalities.

But this wasn't my wife. This was a stranger I hired to carry my child. A child that I'm to raise on my own in honor of my wife.

What in the hell am I doing? I don't know the first thing about raising a child. Sure, I have three nieces, but when they're sick or out of control, I send them back to their mom. Who am I going to hand my own child to when things reach a point where I'm questioning my own sanity? It'll happen. I've seen my sister on the verge of a serious mental breakdown—although a bottle of wine seems to solve most of her problems. I doubt that will resolve any of my problems when I'm neck-deep in soiled diapers and dirty onesies.

The whole drive home I don't say a word to Ms. Murphy. I know she probably needs words of reassurance, but I can't bring myself to utter nice falsities for the sake of making her feel better. Honesty is a religion of mine. Where there's lies and deceit, there's contempt and malicious intent. I demand honesty in all things––friendships, relationships, work, and especially from those I love, which is a respectfully short list.

My eyes cut over to her as we hit the underpass and make our way to the suburbs. I thought it would be best to have Ms. Murphy stay at the main house while my primary residence will continue to be the apartment in the city. I've tried staying in the house, but it usually brings back a ton of memories, and before I know it, I'm gunning my Mercedes back into the city as if the hounds of hell were on my tail.

"I thought you had a high-rise apartment in the city?" she asks.

My brows furrow in deep thought. "Who told you that?" I ask, my tone a little sharper than I intended.

From the corner of my eye, I see her shrug her shoulders. "Your sister. She mentioned it when she called me this morning to wish me luck."

"Abigail called you?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Nothing. It's just that I'm surprised she did. That's all. She was supposed to be there for the procedure but had an emergency C-section that she had to perform."

I try to casually brush aside the fact that my sister didn't tell me she called Kara, but deep down, I'm puzzled as to why Abbi is trying to reach out and befriend this woman. She needs to keep it on a professional level. The more attached she becomes, the more likely she is to try to find a way to stick around after the baby is born. We need a clean break after the birth. No ties. No friendships.

Just. Her. Gone.

"Are you always this friendly?"

I pull up to a four way stop and turn to look at her. To my surprise, she's grinning. "Why so serious?" she asks in a weird accent and funny sounding voice.

When I don't respond, she bursts out laughing. "Aw ... come on. You don't know the Joker? Everyone knows the Joker. Heath Ledger was an epic Joker."

I shake my head and pull out once I make sure the roads are clear.

"Sorry to break it to you, but Jack Nicholson was hands down the best Joker." I try not to smirk at her horrified expression, but I can't help it, and the corner of my mouth twitches.

"That's just wrong. So wrong."

"You're too young to understand the complexity of his character. Nicholson embodied the sociopathic tendencies while also touching upon the Joker's more vulnerable side. Which, in my humble opinion, made him far more likable to audiences as a whole."

I try to keep my cool, but something about the way she gets riled so easily only encourages me to antagonize her even more.

"Are we talking about the same movies? Because I can't believe that you're saying Jack Nicholson's Joker was a more relatable character than Heath Ledger's. That's just absurd. Heath Ledger portrayed a man cast aside by society who deluded himself into thinking the world would give a damn if he made them notice him. Whether by foul deeds or good intentions, he just wanted to be noticed and his genius acknowledged for the value he deemed himself worthy." She mutters something under her breath that sounds a lot like "imbecile" and then continues with her rant. "What was your favorite scene from each movie?"

I wait a few minutes before finally answering her.

"I don't know ...” I pull into the gated community and wave at the guard in the security stand before punching in my access code.

"You don't know?"

I don't answer until I turn into my driveway and wait for the garage door to open before entering. Once I put the car in park and press the button for the garage door to close, I turn to face her. "Yes, I don't know."

"What do you mean?" Her nose scrunches up as if she's smelled something gross.

"I mean, I've never watched either movie." I turn before she can respond and hop out of the SUV. As I make my way around the hood of the car, she opens her door to step out, but I reach for her before she takes her first step. "Let me help you." I slide my arm around her back and loop her arm over my shoulders.

I try to step forward but notice that she's stopped. I can feel her eyes on me, and it takes more willpower than I care to admit not to stare back. "You were teasing me?" she says, her tone a little bewildered.

The statement catches me off guard and causes a wave of guilt to consume me. Was I teasing? Maybe even flirting? No ... definitely not. I was most assuredly NOT flirting ... or teasing.

I clear my throat and tug her along. "I was merely stating a fact. Nothing more."

If words could take form, mine would have turned to blocks of ice. I don't know why I feel the need to be so harsh with her, but something makes me want to keep her at arm’s length. If not for my own protection, then for hers.