The Surrogate

by Freida McFadden

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

Oh? Do tell

“Tell me, Abby.” Cofield raises his eyebrows at me. “Will you be purchasing Cuddles for your baby?” “Of course,” I lie. “I want the best.” Yeah, there’s no way I’m putting those shoddy diapers on my own child.

🫢🫢🫢

But this isn’t jewelry. It’s a long silver object with diamonds on the handle and the name “ABBY” engraved on the blade.

Oh no

But here’s the weird part: when Sam unlocks the doors to the car with his key fob, Monica immediately jumps into the shotgun seat. Considering we’re giving her a ride, that seems odd to me. I’m Sam’s wife—I should be the one sitting next to him.

Oh god

“Well,” she says thoughtfully, “doesn’t Monica have access to your calendar? Couldn’t she tell you the wrong time, wait for you to put it in your calendar, then swap it out for the correct time so you look like an idiot when you show up?”

That’s what I was thinking

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

What the hell!??