Filed to story: Submitting to My Bestie’s Daddy Read Online >>???
She smiled impishly and agreed.
I combed the wall for options, trying to guess if Dahlia would be nice or cruel. I checked my phone to see if I’d missed anything important and realized with a start that it was nearly 1:30 and I hadn’t worried about our fertility issues in hours.
I looked over at Dahlia to tell her this as she lifted a lime-green beret off the wall and grinned at me. I didn’t want to break the spell, I decided.
And I was getting her the floppy fuchsia sunhat.
We put the hats on instantly and walked arm-in-arm down the road to il Duomo di Milano, the spiky cathedral I had declared I couldn’t visit the city without seeing. We did a photoshoot out front in our gaudy hats, laughing so hard we barely got a decent picture, and then I coaxed her onto one of the tours.
Inside, the soaring columns and stunning rose window knocked me breathless. I explored the place in near silence, uttering little more than hushed whispers. Dahlia trailed after me, making inappropriate jokes to make me laugh. I smacked her, but I wouldn’t have wanted her to stop for anything.
The only thing better than seeing a historical marvel like this was seeing it with my best friend.
After the cathedral, we shopped and ate until our wallets and bellies groaned and the sun set in the sky. I convinced Dahlia to take a brief spin through the Pinacoteca di Brera, a converted palazzo full of Italian art, and then we trooped back to the jet laden with our bags.
Dahlia collapsed into the leather seat with a groan. “They better make the flight longer this time. I’m not getting up for at least an hour.”
I laughed. “I’ll tell the pilot.”
They’d refueled in our absence, and apparently that meant they refilled the champagne bucket as well. It brimmed over with ice and a beautiful bottle of Milanese champagne. I smiled. Gio must have told them to do that.
“Would a drink help?” I asked, gesturing to the bottle.
Dahlia nodded, and I popped the cork and poured two flutes. I might as well drink. I would never have a baby to worry about hurting.
The thought made my mood plummet, and I downed my first flute in a few quick gulps.
“Whoa there,” Dahlia said. “Are we partying?”
I shrugged and rolled the stem between my fingers before pouring another glass. “No reason not to.”
She downed her flute and gestured for another. “Alright, I’ll keep up. But it seemed like we were having a great day, and now you’re upset all over again. Wanna talk about it?”
I filled her glass and stared at the bubbles in my own for a moment. A ‘no’ trembled on my lips. I didn’t want to cry again, didn’t want to dredge up the same humiliating insecurities. But, I realized, I wanted her opinion. She was my best friend. The only decision I’d ever made without talking to her was seeing Gio in the first place, and that was only because I thought she’d be mad.
“Yeah, I think I do,” I admitted. Dahlia swiveled her seat to face me, but I didn’t look at her. I couldn’t just yet. “So, we’re between adoption and surrogacy.”
Dahlia hummed. “I mean, you know how I feel about surrogacy.”
I groaned and dropped my head back against the seat. “Everybody else seems to think it would be so easy to just let somebody else have my baby, but my heart breaks every time I think about it. Even if we can set every boundary and lay out a perfect contract, I’ll still have to watch somebody else live my dream.”
Dahlia took a sip of her champagne. “Is being pregnant really your dream? Or is your dream having a baby with Gio, and you just sort of assumed being pregnant would be part of it?”
I sipped my champagne and considered. Being pregnant seemed so important, but what did I really want? Gio swore up and down that he wasn’t bothered by somebody else carrying our baby, and a shiver ran down my spine as I remembered how clearly he proved that. I wanted to feel connected to the child, but they would share my genetics, and I would love them regardless. Perhaps I had gotten stuck on an assumption.
“I’m not sure. Part of me–” I took a huge swallow of champagne, “part of me thinks I won’t be a real mother if I don’t carry the child.”
“Oh, Olive.” Dahlia put a hand on my arm, and I leaned into her touch. “I’m so sorry. That sounds awful.”
I knocked back the rest of my champagne and laughed bitterly. “But it’s not like I can change that part.”
She swallowed the rest of hers in turn, and I topped us both off.
Dahlia rubbed my arm comfortingly. “Then you just have to decide whether it will be more painful to be part of the pregnancy process, even if you’re not carrying the kid, or if you’d rather not know about it.”
I pulled her into a hug. “When did you get so smart?”
She laughed. “Two glasses of champagne ago. In the spirit of not overthinking things, what do you say we put on some music and really party?”
I grinned at my best friend and turned up the dial on the stereo.
By the time the plane landed, Dahlia and I had finished more than half the bottle and were swaying to keep our feet as much as to keep the beat. The pilot taxied into Gio’s private runway, and I spotted the same luxury silver sedan we’d taken to the doctor.
“Oh my god!” I screamed. “Gio is picking us up.”
“Oh my god!” Dahlia echoed, and we collapsed into a fit of giggles.
The flight attendant came out to open the door for us, and I flagged her over.
“Hey,” I hiccupped. “I’m so sorry, but we have a lot of bags. Can we get–” I looked at Dahlia, who shrugged, “help?”
The flight attendant looked like she was trying not to laugh but nodded and bustled off. In a few moments, Dahlia and I were wobbling down the stairs followed by a ton of baggage guys carrying a shopping bag or two. When we reached the bottom, I collapsed into Gio’s arms.
“Hiiiii,” I chirped.
Gio’s eyes twinkled as he stared down at me. “Hi yourself. Have a good day?”
Dahlia collapsed into Gio’s arms on top of me. “Yep!”
He laughed. “Alright, let’s get you guys home and get some water in your systems.”
He loaded us and the bags into the back of the car, where Dahlia and I demanded top-40s radio, and when he told us we couldn’t have that in Italy, belted the lyrics to any pop song we could think of. Gio laughed the whole way home.
When we reached the compound, Dahlia tottered inside with a “Toodles, lovebirds!” and Gio scooped me up in his arms. I pillowed my head against his chest and enjoyed the easy sway of his gait.
“I like seeing you smile, carina,” he murmured.
“Well, I—hic!—like smiling,” I replied.
He made me drink a glass of water and then helped me strip down to my underwear. While he worked, I thought blearily about assumptions. I’d started this trip with a lot of them, and none had come true.
I collapsed into bed. Gio sat beside me.
“I wanna do surrogacy,” I mumbled.
And I fell instantly asleep.
*Giovani*
Olivia slept soundly, her breath even. I brushed my thumb under the dark shadows circling her eyes, her lack of rest and the large quantity of alcohol she’d consumed coming back to bite her.
“Surrogate, huh?” I mumbled to myself in the quiet hours of the night.
It was just like her to drop a bombshell on me and then pass out in my arms before I could even respond.
