A month later finds me in his master bathroom, staring wide-eyed at the pregnancy test in my hand. I’ve been unable to banish Dillon from my thoughts, and it seems that for the next eight months or so, I’ll always have a piece of him with me. Uncertainty grips me for a long moment, and I’m not quite sure what to do with the positive test in my hands.

I withdraw my phone from my pocket and take a picture of the stick. It’s not the same as getting to see it in person, but I hope that Dillon appreciates the sentiment. I send the photo to him, meandering through the penthouse as I settle in for the long haul. He has a personal doctor that he wants me to see, so I suppose I’ll just wait for some sort of direction once he receives the message.

I’m not left waiting long, as moments later my phone begins to buzz, dozens of times in rapid succession.

I open the text menu to see Dillon having something of a fit via messages. The first few messages ask if I’m serious, then, as if the three-second pause had been too long, he sends a half-dozen more messages asking if I’m all right. As I move to answer the texts, my phone begins to play the distinct tone I’ve set for the billionaire businessman. Bracing myself, I swipe the phone and hold it to my ear.

“I’m on my way,” he says immediately, and I chuckle in disbelief.

“You can’t just blow off your business trip, can you?” I ask, and he huffs rather melodramatically. I listen to him as he seems to rummage through some paperwork, speaking in a Chinese dialect to someone.

“I told them I’ll be back. It’s only a fourteen-hour flight,” he says dismissively, though I’m almost certain I can hear angry shouting in the background.

I part my lips to argue, but he’s speaking in a rush before I get the chance.

“I’ll be there around ten tomorrow morning. I’ll call my doctor and have him schedule us. See you soon,” he says quickly, hanging up the phone.

I sputter incoherently for a moment before realizing he hung up. The reception was so poor, I could barely even hear him.

I draw my cellphone away from my ear, glancing towards the clock. Well, seeing as Dillon would probably stroke out over the idea of me venturing into the big bad world today, I decide to watch a few soap operas on his enormous flat-screen TV. There’s something a bit strange about seeing every blemish in extreme high definition, but there’s not much else I feel like doing. It’s been a long day of throwing up into the toilet and finally working up the courage to do the test.

I drift off in the middle of my favorite show, lost to the world until the front door bursts open late the next morning. I jolt upright, panicking for a moment. I feel strong arms wrap around me, yanking me off my feet and holding me close.

“I’m going to be a dad!” the intruder booms, and I relax into his arms upon realizing that it’s anything but a crazed murderer.

Dillon shakes with barely-repressed emotion, and I move to shift out of his grip. He only tightens his hold on me, adjusting me so he’s carrying me in the bridal position.

He sweeps me away to his bedroom, where he gently kisses along the column of my neck. Startled yet thrilled, I open my robe to allow him access to my breasts. Instead, he simply settles his cheek against the still-flat plane of my stomach.

I don’t want to ruin the moment, so I remain silent as he simply revels in thoughts of the future. He’s going to be a father, and though it will be unlikely that I’ll get the chance to know my child, I’ll be a mother, nonetheless.

“Kiss me, Dillon,” I request softly, reddening as he tilts his head to look up at me.

Smiling, he presses a kiss just above my navel. Pouting, I give him a slight shove. Undeterred by my irritation, he draws close to me and presses a sweet kiss to my lips.

“I don’t know where I would be without you,” he murmurs.

I smile weakly, brushing a hand through his hair. As much as he means to me, and as kind as he’s being, I know he doesn’t love me. I guide his head back to my stomach, soothing us both by gently scratching the back of his neck. He groans gratefully, getting comfortable against me.

Apparently exhausted from the trip, he drifts off into a peaceful slumber. Well, we’ve got a busy few months ahead of us.

* * *

The first doctor’s appointment goes swimmingly, though we learn very little. Claiming to know a more advanced facility, Dillon schedules me for routine appointments at the new practice as well as a 12-week ultrasound with a separate clinic. I give it very little thought, but he is thrilled. As much as I expect the time to pass agonizingly, the ultrasound appointment comes around remarkably quickly.

I’m in bed enjoying a short snooze. Dillon has gone to pick up some snacks, tending to the cravings I’ve been having. He’s already a good father, and I can’t deny that I’ve considered the fact that he would be a good husband. I try to ignore those thoughts, however. I find myself exhausted since finding out I’m pregnant, though I suppose it’s mostly psychological. I simply can’t get enough sleep.

I hear Dillon step through the front door and I roll onto my side with a soft groan. I squeeze my eyes closed, holding a pillow over my head.

“Come on, to the doctor’s office we go,” he announces grandly, scooping me up and marching towards the door.

“Wait, Dillon! I need to get dressed, brush my hair and—” I cut myself off with a squeak as he carries me out of the apartment.

I toss the pillow through the door before he can close it, groaning dramatically as he steps into the elevator, which stops at each lower-down floor to pick up more people. I can’t deny the awkwardness of the situation, but I suppose his excitement is really sweet—and somewhat infectious as well.

“I guess this makes it official. You’re going to be a daddy,” I whisper.

He bounces on his heels, looking as if he can barely keep himself from announcing it to the whole elevator.

Once we’re on the ground floor, Dillon continues to carry me as if I’m incapable of walking on my own. I might be offended in any other case, but I find myself rather touched by the doting attention. Unsurprisingly, Milo waits outside with the limousine, opening the backseat door to allow us to settle inside.

Dillon keeps me tightly in his grasp, and I can’t help but take advantage of the situation. I settle close against him, inhaling the scent I’ve come to adore so much. I caress his jaw, enjoying the slight bit of stubble I feel.

“You should grow a beard,” I suggest idly, and he laughs in response.

“Would that add to my sexy dad appeal?” he asks in faux seriousness.

I roll my eyes, not answering as I allow my eyes to flutter closed. I don’t know how I survived without him for the month he was absent. I can’t stand the thought of knowing he’ll have to go back for the rest of his business trip, once things have settled somewhat.

“C’mon now. The doctor is eager to see us,” he murmurs gently.

I blink my eyes open, the sun nearly blinding in my drowsy state as we get out of the limo and walk into the clinic.

“Why couldn’t we see the same doctor?” I inquire idly.

The interior of the doctor’s office is much easier on the eyes, but there’s something about Dillon’s comforting presence that makes me want to close my eyes and drift away. I’m only half-listening to him as he explains, naming off some unspeakably large amount of money he shelled out for a ‘better suited’ doctor.

I jolt upright in alarm as he places me on a rather cold cot. I whine softly, looking imploringly at him. His cheeks flush, and he gestures to another man standing in the room.

“Miss Law, you must be the surrogate. You two are awfully cozy, aren’t you?” he says with a warm smile, stepping towards me. He mentions the ultrasound that he’ll have a nurse perform to check the health of the baby. I simply smile and nod.

A short time later, the nurse steps in and preps me for the ultrasound.

“Oh, my,” she says softly, glancing towards me and Dillon.

Dillon’s eyes widen in alarm, and he lurches towards the machine even though he has no means of reading the output. All I can make out are some vague shapes on the screen.

“Is the baby okay?” he inquires nervously.

The nurse laughs, waving him off.

“Yes, Mr. Bradshaw. All three of them are in perfect health, from what I’m able to tell,” she placates, adjusting the ultrasound probe. “Here we are,” she announces, gesturing towards the screen.

She moves the probe, but I can still only make out indistinct shapes. Dillon’s eyes are bulging nearly from his skull, and for a moment I can only wonder what’s wrong. Then, the nurse’s words finally register.

Three?!

The ultrasound continues, the nurse pointing out each baby’s tiny beating heart on the ultrasound screen. My breath catches in my throat, and as she offers me a towel to wipe down with, it’s all I can do to keep from fainting. Dillon doesn’t seem to be in much better shape, looking at me with bewilderment in his gaze.

How on earth did this happen?