The Surrogate

by Freida McFadden

It wasn’t until she found out I was trying for a baby that our relationship deteriorated.

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.

That’s the best part about having a landline. You can slam it down. You don’t get the joy of slamming a phone down when you’re on a cell phone. What can you do—press “end call” really angrily?

Sam’s sperm knocked up my assistant on the very first try. We tried for so many years without any success. It’s not like I ever doubted that I was the one responsible for our infertility, but I’ve never seen the evidence smacking me in the face like this. First try. Pregnant.

“I didn’t expect…” He blinked at me. “Well, I love you. Why wait?”

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

“That’s really what you’re choosing?” she says incredulously. “Her?” “That’s right,” he says. “I’m choosing Abby.” My hero. I’m going to die knowing how much my husband loves me. That’s worth something. My eyelids are too heavy to keep open. I hear the click of a gun being cocked. And then the explosion of gunfire for the third time.