The Surrogate

by Freida McFadden

Honestly, if it doesn’t work out with this baby, I might just adopt Monica.

Lol

It’s all my fault we can’t get pregnant. He’s normal. Perfect sperm. All-star sperm. I’m the defective one.

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?

Lol

“You know, I’ve seen her listening outside the door to your office.” My heart skips a beat. “What?” “I’ve seen her. She stands outside your office door when it’s closed, and I think she’s trying to hear your conversations.”

Since I know Monica so well, we certainly didn’t have to go through the doctor—we could have gotten a sample on our own and given it to her. But he insisted on doing it this way.

Um hes right

Sam’s sperm knocked up my assistant on the very first try.

Lmfao

“Well, I’m only twenty-three. I’m sure the baby is fine. It’s not like we’re using Abby’s eggs.”

Damn

“No,” Gertie says. “It was in the orange juice. She drank it about ten minutes ago.”

Wat

Monica smiles at Gertie—this time a genuine smile. “Thanks, Mom,” she says.

Oh wtf