The Surrogate

by Freida McFadden

I’m not the kind of person who goes to jail for murder.

There’s only one thing different about this baby shower from all other baby showers thrown for the other women in my company: I’m not pregnant.

“Be your surrogate.”

“Is the chicken supposed to be red?” “Well, I used red wine.” “It’s just… it’s awfully red.”

“Life lesson—you can’t trust men. None of them.”