Crush - Kelsie Rae Page 0,2

her forefinger––“he’s absolutely gorgeous, and I’ve heard he’s single. And two”––she raises her middle finger to join her first––“he has the best bedside manner, and always makes me and Grady feel super comfortable at the appointments. He’s awesome, and I guarantee you won’t regret using him.”

“You may have mentioned that a time or two,” I reply dryly. “Thank you for giving me his contact info. I was a little nervous that I’d have to fly to New Hampshire for every appointment when I found out I’d go through the whole fertilization process at a facility near the parents. But thankfully, I get to pick my own obstetrician close to home. He’s going to take care of the whole pregnancy and delivery while Anthony and Sway will fly down for all of the major appointments and the official birth. However, you do remember the one condition I had when you first recommended him, right?”

Feigning ignorance, she bats her lashes and picks at her cuticles. “And what’s that?”

“Nice try, Dyl. But I’ll tell you one more time, just to be clear. You aren’t allowed to try to set me up with him.”

Outraged, her jaw drops as she completely forgets her original facade. “Come on, Marce. Why the hell not?”

“Because I’m pregnant with someone else’s kid. It’s not like I’m looking for a relationship or a commitment until this baby is out of my uterus, ya know? Maybe a solid screw, but that’s about it.”

“Are you even able to have sex when you have someone else’s kid inside of you? And is it weird when you hear someone say, ‘Someone else’s kid is inside of you’?” Her face scrunches up as it rolls off her tongue a second time.

My laugh is light and airy before I pull her into another hug. “It’s definitely weird. But as soon as I met Anthony and Sway, I knew they deserved to have a child of their own, and nine months feels like a pretty small sacrifice to give it to them.”

“You’re a saint.”

“No, I’m just ready for my life to mean a little more than a single woman who takes pictures for a living. And since I’m not sure I’ll ever meet Mr. Right and have kids of my own, I might as well make my prime uterus useful to someone else.”

“Prime uterus?”

“That’s what they tell me.”

She laughs. “You should put that on your resume next time.”

“Already planning on it,” I quip.

2

Marcy

My knee bounces like a jackrabbit as I pretend to read the parenting magazine in front of me. The words blur together, creating a swirl of black and white while framing a brand new baby’s face with the chubbiest cheeks I’ve ever seen in the center of the page. The bow on her head looks like it’s almost as big as she is. And that toothy grin? My heart stalls.

“You nervous?” Sway teases, dropping her chin toward my bouncing knee. Her soft pink hair is tucked behind her ear as she sits beside me with her hand intertwined with her husband’s. They flew in yesterday and spent the night taking me out to dinner while treating me like––you guessed it––gold.

Releasing a shaky breath, I close the magazine and put it back on the oak coffee table in front of us. “Can you blame me?”

“Not really, but I thought I was supposed to be the one that’s nervous.” Her kind smile is almost enough to calm my nerves.

“Don’t let her fool you,” Anthony interjects next to her. “She’s nervous as hell, but it’s going to be fine. We’ve already had the positive pregnancy test. Your hormone levels are where they’re supposed to be. Now, we just need to hear our baby’s heartbeat. It’s going to be fine.”

“You make it sound so easy,” I mutter under my breath.

What if I did something wrong? What if I have a bum uterus despite all the testing and exams I’ve already been through? What if I won’t be able to give these two amazing people a baby? What if––

A gentle hand rubs against my back before Sway’s soft voice coos, “Breathe, Marcy. You look like you’re going to be sick. Do you need some water or something? What can I do to help?”

Rummaging through Sway’s small purse, Anthony retrieves a stick of gum. “Here. I’ve heard peppermint helps with nausea.”

I take it with a forced smile then remind myself to breathe, sucking in a deep breath before releasing it just as slowly. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Marcy Holden,” a high-pitched voice calls from