The Billionaire's Surrogate: A BWWM Pregnancy Love Story Read Free Page A

sternly.
    “ Hey
Carlyle, while we are waiting for results would it be possible for me
to go home?” Max asked.
    Dr. Benson thought
about it. “I suppose Martha can watch over you just as well if
not better than the nurses here. You cannot stay alone, she will have
to board with you while you’re invalid,” he said.
    Max rolled his eyes but
nodded his acquiescence.

Chapter 2
    Martha entered Max’s
room to bring in his laundry. It was early morning and he was still
buried deep in the covers. Martha was relieved to see it. She’d
left him pacing in his study when she finally gave up the ghost and
retired to bed at 2am. Dr. Benson had said she should monitor him,
make sure he got plenty of rest and enough to eat but there was only
so much she could do. She could hardly order him to bed even though
she was tempted to do just that last night. She knew he was worried
about the disease he might have and what it might mean for his life.
There was very little she could do about it except be around if he
needed her.
    She
deposited his laundry in the closet and then returned to the kitchen
to put the coffee on. Max still lived in the same apartment he’d
acquired when he came to Boston to attend Harvard University. It was
located in an old building between Fuller Avenue and Thorndike
Street, in a Classical Revival apartment building which had five
stories. The entrance is elegantly framed by paired and fluted
Corinthian columns. Cast stone covered the walls of the first and
second floors while the upper floors were faced with tan brick. Max’s
apartment was on the fifth floor and it spanned the entire length of
the building so he was able to enjoy both sunlight and sunset through
the huge bay windows. The East wing had a breakfast nook situated
right next to the windows and that was where Martha set up his
breakfast. The intercom went off and Martha hastened to answer before
it awakened Max.
    “ Yes?
Who is it?” she asked a bit curtly.
    “ Gra,
it's me,” Christine said, her voice sounding tinny and far away
through the intercom. Martha pressed the button to let her in to the
building and then called downstairs to the concierge to let her come
up. She was waiting at the door when the elevator stopped at their
floor.
    “ What’s
wrong?” she asked tensely.
    Christine smiled. “Why
do you think anything’s wrong?” she asked walking into
the spacious foyer and placing her coat on the priceless seventeenth
century table like it was a fifty dollar coat rack. Martha moved to
pick up the coat and hang it up in the closet near the door, there
for just such a purpose.
    “ You
don’t just show up at my work unless there’s a problem,”
Martha said turning around to face Christine.
    “ That’s
because you usually come home at night. I haven’t seen you for
two days,” Christine said in a tone that could be construed as
whining if one were being picky.
    “ You’re
a big girl Chris, you don’t need to see me everyday,”
Martha said with a snort, leading the way to the kitchen.
    “ Usually
grandmothers say the opposite thing,” Christine replied and
then putting on a high whiny soprano she continued. “You never
call me; I don’t see you anymore,” she said before
returning her voice to the normal tenor that it was. “That’s
what you’re supposed to say.”
    “ Well
I see you a lot more than never; seeing as we live together so that
would just be stupid wouldn’t it?” she said opening the
kitchen door and strolling toward the coffee pot. She didn’t
turn around to see if Christine was following.
    “ Christine,”
a deep voice called from down the hall.
    Christine turned around
to see Max walking toward her in his pajamas and the most comfortable
pair of house slippers she’d ever seen. He was looking right at
her as he walked and she paused to wait for him.
    “ Hello
Max, you’re looking better than the last time I saw you,”
she said coolly.
    “ Huh,
so it was you who rang? I thought perhaps