Epiphany (20 page)

“Take your shower. I’ll have coffee ready when you’re done.” Skylar stalks toward
me, coffee apparently the last thing on his mind. Dodging his grip, I run into the
kitchen and start brewing. Laughing to myself, I think back to just a few days ago
when you couldn’t pay me to smile, now I’m doing it for no other reason than I’m happy.

As the guilt starts to swarm into my brain, I quickly shut it down. If it’s just
me and Skylar for the rest of our lives, I think I can deal with that. If a baby
makes its way into our hearts, that’s just icing on the cake.

*****

KYLEE – I’m here

ME – Give me 5. Be right down.

“Okay, I’m out of here. Kylee’s downstairs. Want me to bring you back anything?”
I ask, grabbing my purse.

“Nope, I’m good. Just text me on your way home so I can make sure I’m here,” he says,
winking. And that damn smirk comes back. I do hope that one day I’ll be able to
build up some kind of immunity to that sly smile that tells me he’s thinking something
dirty.

“Will do.”

Skylar stands from the sofa, walks over to me and stares deeply into my eyes to the
point where I’m lost in the vast ocean blue of his. Needing to break the spell before
I don’t do anything at all, except go back to bed, I stand on my tiptoes to kiss him
goodbye.

Not the smartest choice I’ve ever made. I’m unsure how many minutes have passed,
but judging from the persistent text message notification going off inside my purse,
it’s been more than five.

“I gotta go,” I whisper, taking a step back, only for him to match mine. We repeat
this little dance until my back’s flush against the door.

“I know. I just missed this so much; I don’t want to let you out of my sight.” Taking
a large step backward, Skylar releases his hold on me. “Hurry up before I change
my mind.”

Turning around, I quickly exit the apartment and push the button for the elevator.

“Don’t be gone too long,” Skylar shouts from the doorway.

“Nothing could keep me away,” I respond, as the bell chimes. Entering the elevator,
I blow him a kiss just as the doors close.

Making my way out the front door, Kylee’s parked right on the curb, looking rather
impatient. Taking a deep breath, I climb in the car, expecting a talk about me keeping
her waiting too long.

“Have fun?” she asks, raising a brow at me suspiciously.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Remember, I’m not the one who reenacts
porn scenes while on the phone with their friends,” I quip, ready for this battle.

“Yeah.
Okay.
Whatever you say, Mira.”
Kylee rolls her eyes and pulls out into traffic.

It takes roughly fifteen minutes to get to the bakery she told me about last night;
a cute, quaint little shop in downtown Birmingham that caters to the rich and not
so famous. Walking through the front door, the smell of chocolate and sugar invade
my senses, making my stomach growl.

“Welcome,” an older lady greets us from behind the pastry counter.

“My name is Kylee Anderson. I have an appointment for some tastings this afternoon.”
The woman waves us toward a door, talking a mile a minute—none of it I catch, but
Kylee seems to.

“Yes, my fiancé and I will be getting married soon and he recommended you. I’ve also
read great things online. I’m pretty excited to taste what you’ve prepared for us
today,” Kylee says, walking through the threshold.

Behind the door, a magnificent, almost fairytale room exists. Small ornate chairs
and matching tables adorn the small sunroom of sorts—enough seating in here for probably
twenty people. Three walls made of decorative glass surround the enclosure. Sitting
at the table, Kylee and I both look at each other in shock that such a place exists.

“How did Jacoby know about this place?” I ask.

“He said he brought Shelby here for her birthday last year. I can totally see why.
This is heaven.” It truly is. There’s nothing plain or ordinary about this.

A few moments later, the older woman comes back to our table with a bottle of champagne,
the cork already popped and mist still coming out of the top. Taking the flutes from
our place settings, she pours each of us a glass and places the champagne in a bucket
with ice I didn’t notice when we first sat down.

“Now, Kylee, you said on the phone you were looking for something simple, yet beautiful.
I think I have the perfect ideas brewing for you and have some of them to taste today.
Are you and your guest …” she pauses, elegantly asking for my name without actually
asking.

“Mira,” I say. She grins, refocusing her attention on Kylee.

“Are you and Mira ready to begin?” Kylee and I nod, more than ready to taste whatever
she throws at us.

From the kitchen, a man no older than Kylee and myself, comes walking out holding
a large serving tray full of bite-sized pieces of cake. Placing the selections on
our table, they both walk away leaving Kylee and me to our tasting. In the middle,
there’s a note card and pencils with instructions to keep track of which ones we like
best.

“So, how are you feeling?” Kylee asks, taking a slice of chocolate cake with yellow
frosting. As I ponder her question, and exactly how to answer, I choose a yellow
cake with white icing.

“I’m better. It was pretty bad for a while. I know you saw some of it. I can’t
really explain it, though. I was just so depressed.” Cutting off a small bite, the
banana flavor hits my taste buds in an explosion. “This is amazing,” I sigh, watching
Kylee do the exact same thing to her cake.

“But you’re better now?”

“Yeah, I guess. It’s still hard.
Knowing that I won’t be having any children.
I don’t know. I guess I’ll just make the best out of my situation.” Exchanging
my yellow for
a red
velvet, Kylee looks deep in thought. “Didn’t you lure me here with promises of telling
me something amazing?”

“Yeah, I did,” she answers, but doesn’t elaborate. I stare at her, waiting for the
continuation.

“And…”

“It’s just an idea I had yesterday.
Wanted to run it past you.”
Her lack of communication is killing me. It’s got to be good for her to be so leery
of opening her mouth, when any other time, she can’t keep her trap closed.

“Are you gonna run it by me or are we gonna have a staring contest all day?”

Kylee takes a deep breath, sets her fork down and looks at me uncertainly. “I want
to help you and Skylar have a baby,” she rushes out, combining all of the syllables
together.

“That’s very nice of you, but there’s nothing that can be done. I’m going to have
a hard time getting pregnant, if at all.” I’m not sure if she’s understood anything
I’ve told her.

“No, like I want to help,” she tries to clarify, but I’m still lost. Looking at her
dumbfounded, I’m at a loss for words. Thankfully, being my best friend and all, she
catches on and I don’t have to ask again. “I’m offering you my body. You can’t carry
a baby, but I can. I’d like to be a surrogate for you and Skylar if you would still
like to have a baby.”

“Oh.
Ummmm.
What?” I’m beyond shocked right now. Who just offers to have a baby for you?
I could see if I asked, but I didn’t. The thought didn’t even cross my mind. Now
that it’s sitting right in front of me, the idea’s making me wonder … would this be
a good
idea?

“You heard me. I want to carry a baby for you. My body works just fine and I’m your
best friend. We’ll do the whole in vitro thing—your egg, Skylar’s sperm—and then
you’ll have a baby without having to worry. It’s perfect,” she says, grinning ear
to ear. How much thought has she put into this? Pregnancy isn’t easy on anyone.

“Have you talked to Jacoby about this?” I know from the few weeks I was pregnant,
it took a toll on Skylar.

“He isn’t on board yet, but he will be.”

“What do you mean he isn’t on board? You talked to him about this, right? I can’t
agree to something that will affect your relationship negatively, Kylee.”

“We talked about it a little last night, and he didn’t seem too happy about it. He
just needs time to adjust to the idea of me being pregnant and not with his baby.
He knows how much you and Skylar mean to me and he’ll be just fine once he processes
it. I’m all in, though. I say you talk to Sky and see what he thinks.”

“I’ll talk to Skylar, but I don’t know, Ky.
This is a huge responsibility and being pregnant isn’t all that great. Are you
sure?” I ask skeptically, trying to give her every out possible.

“You’re my person. There’s not a whole lot I wouldn’t do for you. I want you to
be happy, and if a baby will make you happy, I’d be honored to be your oven,” she
jokes.

Slivers of hope slice through my hardened heart. Is this really happening? Could
I really be a mom one day? My mouth turns upward, matching Kylee’s smile.

I might actually get to be a mother.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Skylar

Prowler texted me earlier in the day, letting me know he dropped his bike off at the
shop for a Spring
tune up. Excellent timing since Mira’s out with Kylee; I have some time to take
care of it. The past couple of weeks, I’ve been worried to leave her alone. I wasn’t
scared she would hurt herself, but I was worried that if I wasn’t there, she wouldn’t
eat. The whole situation’s been so trying, but I’m glad it’s over and she’s getting
back to her old self. I really have missed her.

Changing the last spark plug, my phone starts buzzing in my pocket. Wiping my grease
covered hands on the shop
rag, I fish it out only to see Mira’s beautiful name lighting up my screen.

MIRA – I’m on my way home babe. See u soon.

ME – I’ll be done at the shop in 10.

MIRA – K.

Making sure everything is put back together properly,
I fire up the bike, letting it purr to life. Hitting the accelerator a few times,
just to make sure it’s firing correctly, I find myself a little excited. It’s probably
mostly Mira that has me ready to dry hump this bike, but the roar of a freshly tuned
motorcycle has shivers running the length of my spine.

As excited as I was for Mira and me to have a baby, I would have missed her on the
back of my bike for that long. Just getting on, riding, destination unknown … it’s
the little things in life I guess.

Racing home, I don’t see Kylee’s car out front. Either they’re not here yet or she’s
already dropped Mira off. I’m betting on the latter, seeing as I spent a little more
time with the bike than anticipated. Okay, a lot more time, but it felt good to be
back at work, doing what I love.

Danny had to move ten hours away to find something he’d enjoy doing. I’m extremely
lucky to find my path and happiness in my own backyard.

Walking in the front door, Mira’s sitting on the couch, back to me and her shoulders
shaking. Taking slow, methodical steps toward her, I’m saying silent prayers that
she’s not falling back into the depression it took weeks to get her out of. As I
get closer, I see the glow of her tablet sitting in her lap and she sniffles.
Crying.
Shit.

“Mira, are you okay?” I softly ask.

“No. I’m not anywhere near okay. This is fucking bullshit,” she cries, throwing
her tablet onto the love seat.

“Tell me what’s wrong, Sweets.” I crouch down, taking her hands in mine, rubbing
her knuckles with my thumb. I’m not about to let her dive back into the sea of depression.
I fought too hard to bring her out of it.

“Ash,” she says, more tears falling from her eyes. “He’s dead.”

“Is Ash someone you worked with? You gotta tell me more, honey. Let me fix it.”

“There’s nothing you can do. He’s dead. Oh God. Why?” she wails, throwing herself
into my arms. My heart hurts for her—being in so much pain. Whoever Ash was, I’m
sure he meant a lot to her.

“What happened?”

“Surfboards.
I don’t understand. Why? He was so perfect.
Fucking Erin.”
I didn’t know she knew anyone that rode a surfboard. Do they suddenly allow surfing
on the Detroit River? I’m so damn confused. And who the hell is Erin?

Wait.
The tablet.
The tears.
“Mira.
What were you reading?” I ask, starting to catch on.

“Euphoria by Erin Noelle,” she whispers.
Mother fucker.
All this because of a book.

“Is Ash one of the characters?”

“Not just one of the characters, Skylar. He was
the
character. Ash was so amazing. Now, Scarlett is gonna end up with Mason and I’m
fucking pissed. I’m gonna social media stalk Erin and tell her exactly what I think
of this. He didn’t have to die. He didn’t have to,” her body shakes uncontrollably,
big fat ugly tears fall freely from her face.

It’s official. I’m never going to understand this girl and her books. I give up.

“Okay, we’ve established you take your reading a little too personally, how was your
day with Kylee?” I ask, needing to change the subject.

Wiping her cheeks with the ends of her shirt, she climbs out of my hold and gets back
on the sofa. “It was nice. She kinda sprung something on me. I’d like your opinion
about it,” she says through hiccups.

“Okay, shoot.” I take a seat on the coffee table, not wanting to be too far from
her in case she has another fit.

“She wants to help us have a baby. Like …
be
a surrogate for us.”
So much for Mira getting out of the house and not thinking about babies.
I study her face, looking for any indication as to which way she’s leaning.