Chapter 10

CARRIE

“Excuse me?” I say, unable to hide the surprise on my face.

Any game that I have been playing, any attempt to try to assert my dominance has been immediately blown out the window. I have never been so caught off guard.

“Hear me out, Carrie” he hurries, taking my hand. I let him, barely even noticing. I am still in shock. “I am willing to pay you, of course. A rather large sum. And I’m also willing to do anything that is needed to make the process as easy and comfortable as possible for you.”

“Oh, how generous,” I say quietly, still having trouble processing all of this. I’m not even sure if I’m being sarcastic. It’s like a semi-trailer to the face as I work to take in his proposal.

“Look, I may have come off a bit over the top there. I just didn’t know how to say it.”

My face must be betraying my feelings. Blake is clearly aware that he has come on strong. Although, it’s not like there’s a subtle way to tell someone you want to get them pregnant.

“I know that I want a family,” he says. “Not a wife or anything, but a child of my own. And I felt something between us the other night. A spark. And even tonight I’ve felt it. Tell me you haven’t, too?”

I have felt it. Of course, I have. From the moment we met, I’ve felt that spark, and tonight, as soon as I saw him, I could feel that same wave of unbridled enthusiasm hit me. I am able to be myself around Blake like no other man before him. But still. Does that mean I am ready to have his baby?

“I don’t know, Blake,” I say hesitantly. “It’s just that I don’t know you. And yes, I’ve felt the spark, too.” I hurry as I see him about to speak. “But don’t we need more than that?”

“How come?” He responds seriously. “I’m not asking you to marry me. Or even date me. I’m asking you to carry my baby. And like I said, I will look after you during the entire process and make sure that you are paid enough that you never want for money again. I want it to be as comfortable and as little of an inconvenience as possible for you.”

“Such a gentleman,” I say scathingly, not even on purpose. It is just the way he is asking me that makes me feel like a vessel, rather than a person. Sure, he says that he chose me because of the connection between us. But is that the only reason? Or am I just sex to him?

“Don’t get upset,” he says, and I suddenly become aware of the fact that he is still holding my hand. “I mean, it’s not like that. I like you, Carrie, I do. And I will prove that to you every day that you go through this. We will do it together, every step of the way. I wouldn’t ask you if I didn’t think that you were the perfect woman for it.”

“And after the baby is born? What then?”

“You will still be involved as much as you like,” he says, then he pauses with a frown.

“Only I won’t be the mother,” I say, catching on quickly. “You’ll let me see my baby, but I won’t live with you or have any say in its upbringing.”

“Of course, you will,” he hurries. “But not to the same degree that you would usually. You would still be the child’s mother, but I would be the father. The baby will live with me and be raised by me. But you will be able to visit whenever you want, and I will still ask you for advice.” He finishes. “So? What do you think?”

“I think I need to go to the bathroom.”

I pull my hand from his and hurry to the bathroom. I don’t even notice the other people in the restaurant as I walk past them. I have tunnel vision, and I head for the bathroom like a woman on a mission.

I just need some fresh air. Or, unable to get that, some space away from Blake to think clearly. It is all so much and totally unexpected. I never, in my wildest imagination, thought that this is what he is going to ask. It is crazy.

I stumble into the bathroom and head straight for the sink. The moment I reach it, I turn on the faucet and let the cold water run into the sink. I run my hand through it, relishing its cool feel. Only once I can see straight again do I splash the water on my face, cooling myself down.

I stare at myself in the mirror and looked back at my reflection. As I do, the idea very slowly starts to grow on me. Well, not the idea itself, but the outcome of it. The money. I hate that I’m in a position where the need for money can dictate my life. But I am, and there’s no way around that.

Nine months. If I give him nine months, it could totally transform my life for the better. I hate where I live. I hate my job. I hate that I don’t have enough time to write. This offer could change all that. This offer could change me.

I stare at myself for a few more moments, letting the offer slowly take hold. As I feel myself cooling down, I begin to see the merits. And a few minutes more of staring is enough to convince me.

I’m going to do it.

But I am still not sure. The only reason that I am even considering it is because it’s Blake who asked. If it were anyone else, I would tell them to take a hike. But it’s Blake. It’s someone who I was honestly already picturing myself with, before this offer arose. It is because of that and that alone that the situation isn’t as cut and dry as it might seem.

I walk back to the table in a much better state than I left it. My back is straight, and I’m in control. As I slide back into my chair, I am delighted to see that my glass is full of red wine.

I pick up the glass and take a long sip, relishing in the way that I am making Blake sweat. He watches me the whole time, and only when I am done and wipe my lips, do I speak.

“I need a few days to think about it,” I say simply.

“Of course,” he says, “I wouldn’t expect you to say yes to something so big right away. I want you to take this seriously.”

“But that’s not a no,” I assure him. “It’s a maybe. I just can’t make this kind of decision on a whim. You understand?”

“I do,” he relents, evidently seeing the logic in my reason. “So, I won’t put any more pressure on you, okay? In fact, I won’t mention it again for the rest of the night. How does that sound?”

“That sounds perfect. What you can do is convince me, quietly, that it’s a good idea. You know, through your actions as a gentleman and all that.”

“Who says I’m a gentleman?” He quips, that sly smile returning.

“Careful,” I respond, unable to hide my smirk.

“Right, a gentleman,” he says, coughing dramatically as he pretends to clear his throat. “So, are you ready to order?”

“Maybe,” I say as I look down at the menu. “What’s good here?”