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Chapter 30: Did I Just Agree To Commit Insurance Fraud?
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Third Wheel Chapter 31: Already Ratted Us Out
Taylor2:30 p.m.“Dr. Wilson will see you now,” the middle-aged, red-haired receptionist interrupts my perusal of a random waiting room magazine. Abandoning the tattered tabloid, I rise to enter the interior office of Dr. Wilson, Kennedy’s beloved therapist.I remind myself to keep an open mind. I need to work through my issues with men, and I need to discuss issues with the surrogacy that I can’t share with Kennedy or Jackson. Nervously, I will myself to place one foot in front of the other.I find Dr. Wilson seated behind an imposing, dark-wooden desk. She rises, adjusts her pencil skirt, and walks towards me, extending her right hand.“Taylor,” she greets with a firm handshake. “I’m Dr. Wilson.” She motions for me to take a seat. “You can call me Greta.”I believe she is already testing me. There are three chairs in the seating area to choose from. One, I think, is hers, sits next to a round table with a lamp. Another bright red, over-stuffed chair takes up space directly across fro
Third Wheel Chapter 32: Hand-Held Shower Mode
Taylor After my therapy appointment, I decide not to attempt cooking dinner myself. I drive to Jackson’s store to purchase a rotisserie chicken and some prepared sides from the kitchen. The cook laughs when I ask for detailed instructions on keeping it warm until dinner. I type his instructions on my Notes App on my iPhone. I don’t want to screw this dinner up.Kennedy arrives home first at five-fifteen. I explain my dinner plans while she changes into shorts. We decide to take a walk while we await Jackson’s arrival. As we stroll around the block, our conversation steers clear of our counseling sessions. Jackson pulls into the garage before we make it to the driveway. I’m surprised he is home before six. Kennedy isn’t. They must have discussed being home at a decent time tonight.Kennedy assists pulling food from the warm oven while Jackson changes into casual clothes. Upon his return, the table is set, and drinks are ready. The room is too quiet as we eat. The tender chicken melts i
Third Wheel Chapter 33: Are You Decent?
TaylorAs I disrobe, I remind myself I’m giving my friends the gift of a baby, so I can endure this necessary ugly gown. I overlap the front two flaps before I assume my seat on the crisp white paper. Some woman needs to invent a cheap but softer covering for the exam tables. Do I know any women in engineering or science?Waiting in a patient room is the worst. I’m sure my blood pressure is rising with every passing minute. As my feet dangle, I nervously kick them forward and back. This causes the annoying paper to crinkle. I can’t take it. I hop down, slowly pacing the three steps back and forth from the door to the exam table. I choose to sit myself in the lone chair near the table. I pull my legs up yoga-style with me in the chair, so my feet won’t fall asleep while dangling. If only I were tall enough to reach the floor, my life would be simpler. I take a few deep breaths to recenter myself. I am a young, healthy woman. All will be okay. I will get pregnant. Jackson and Kennedy wi
Third Wheel Chapter 34: A Roll of Cookie Dough
TaylorAt that moment, Kennedy enters from the garage. Observing our embrace, she reads the situation as a bad outcome from my appointment. She leans against the closed door with tears filling her eyes.Jackson escorts me toward his wife. “Bad day at the Y?” He asks the crying Kennedy.She cannot speak, so she only shakes her head left to right.“Then why are you in tears?” I inquire.Kennedy explains the scene she witnessed upon entering. Her mind worried all day about my appointment.“Okay, you two,” I extend my index finger at both of them. “I’m going to have too many appointments for you to react this way each time.” I pull down plates and fetch silverware as I continue. “Fix a plate and I will give you all the details from my appointment.” I promise.“You can spare me some of the details,” Jackson states as if I would discuss my pelvic and breast exam with him at the dinner table.We settle in our usual table spots. I allow a few bites before I share my results. I start with the b
Third Wheel Chapter 35: Bleed It Out
Taylor“What the...” I bolt upright, awakened from sleep by The Imperial March from Star Wars. Nervously, I scan the room. I’m in my room at Kennedy’s. My new blackout curtains keep the room perfectly cool and dark. Why is my cell phone alarm set for...I pick up my iPhone to see it is six a.m. “Too early,” I growl to the walls of my new home. As I replace my phone on the bedside table to retreat into slumber, I notice a print out.Oh yeah, today I start logging my temperature. I sat my alarm for six, so I could take it daily before Jackson wakes up for work. This way, when I’m ovulating, I can text him and he will still be at work on time. Barring any stage fright on his part at the collecting of his super-swimming sperm. I place the thermometer under my tongue. My eyes cross as I try to watch the digital readout climb. Instead of enduring the eyestrain, I focus on the ceiling while concentrating on the reason for this 6:00 a.m. interruption to my peaceful sleep. Becoming a surrogate
Third Wheel Chapter 36: After Two Martinis And A Shot Of Vodka
TaylorMy scream punctures the silence of the dark house; I sit up, gasping for breath. My hands feel around my neck repetitively.My bedroom light flicks on as Jackson darts to my side. He climbs in bed right next to me. His muscular arms wrap around me tightly. “It was a dream, only a nightmare,” he whispers into my hair while rocking me back and forth. “Just breath-in and out, in and out.”Kennedy appears moments later, climbing in on the other side of me. Tears fall from my eyes and down my cheeks.When will this end?Out of my life for three months now, John still torments me. He was violent when mad, always verbally and emotionally abusive, but he was never physical. In my nightmares, he escalates to the next level. I do not know what time it is. We fall to the pillows, no one speaks. Jackson holding me, the three of us fall back asleep.At six a.m. my alarm cuts into the silence. Today The Beastie Boys alert me it is time to be a model patient. As Jackson and Kennedy try to mak
Third Wheel Chapter 37: The Perfect Guy
TaylorKennedy jumps in for me, “Taylor had sex on the balcony at the frat house.”Crap! I forgot about that.“Details,” Reagan demands.“I...uh...I forgot about that one,” I sputter. “It was dark. The party spilled out onto the front lawn. I stood against the railing with a hot Division-One quarterback behind me. You know, the classic tall, blonde, muscles for miles, and hands...” I pause while I fondly recall those magical hands. “To an onlooker, we were watching the party below. Kennedy insisted on dressing me that night. We wore similar skirts with matching shirts. He had the back of my skirt lifted with his pants undone. He didn’t want anyone to know. I thought it was sweet that he couldn’t wait another minute to have me, but didn’t want to brag to the guys.” I lick my lips, the club evaporating around me. I’m transported back in time. “It was slow torture. I remember wanting to press myself back into him. He was so good. No good does not do him justice. He knew what he was doing.
Third Wheel Chapter 38: The Deed
TaylorI do my best to have dinner ready every night for Jackson and Kennedy. For dinner tonight, I choose to keep it simple. I placed three chicken breasts in the slow cooker at noon with a can of Rotel and a can of enchilada sauce. An hour before we eat, I shred the chicken easily with two forks. I open a bag of shredded lettuce, rinse it in the sink, then place in a bowl in the refrigerator. I open shredded Mexican cheese, placing it into another bowl. I move the salsa, sour cream, and guacamole beside the bowls, hoping not to forget to set them out as well.I open my iPad and Pinterest to find the recipe I saved earlier today. I mix the ingredients following steps one through eight. Finally, I add the fruit I soaked in peach brandy all day, before pouring my glass to ensure it is consumable. Holy buckets! It’s so good. I would love to add more alcohol, but Kennedy will drink it with a fruitier taste.My preparations complete, I snag my sangria and iPad, deciding to read in the fami
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