Page 5 of Filthy February

Both mine and Juliet’s mothers have been supportive of us having a child through surrogacy, but they’ve expressed concerns. Valentina could end it or walk away any time during pregnancy. We hope she doesn’t, but if so, I’ll be there to catch my wife if she falls.

With a hard dick and brain full of mush, belly empty and needing dinner, I hurry and stuff papers in my briefcase, then snag my winter coat. While walking to the parking garage, I call my wife.

“Hey, babe!” Her voice helps calm some of the days’ irritation from work.

“My Jules. Do you want me to pick up some dinner or cook for you tonight?”

“I thought we could just do pizza, if you’d like.”

“You know me well. Order it and I should be there in about a half hour.” The snow drizzles down around me, coming in white sheets as the wind picks up.

“Be careful! The roads are slick tonight. Love you,” she says.

“Love you, too.”

By the time I edge out onto the main road, visibility has dropped even more. Mixed with the winter is a fog that’s settled near the roads, and my headlights only reflect the brightness of the snowflakes falling around me. Jules is right. The ice is making it difficult to go faster than a few miles per hour, and traffic slows to a crawl as we creep behind a salt truck.

Near the shitty apartment complex on the edge of downtown, a young woman’s figure appears, sans coat, walking along the sidewalk. She stumbles to keep any traction, but catches herself, and when I near, I see it’s Valentina. “Oh, shit!”

Immediately, I put on my blinker and pull over to the curb. When I roll down the window, she tries to look straight ahead, but I yell to gain her attention. “Valentina! It’s me, Carson!”

When she faces me, the blare of oncoming headlights catches her ruddy face, which is streaked with tears. She’s shivering and has one bag tossed over her shoulder. I throw the car in park and hurry out to her, ripping off my coat and tossing it over her back. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? Are you hurt?”

“He-he kicked me out. It’s not safe…”

Opening the passenger door, I wave my hand to see if she wants to get in, and she doesn’t hesitate. I grab the bag from her and throw it in the trunk before returning to my seat. I reach into the glove box between her long legs and snag some napkins for her as she huffs out tiny sobs. My entire instinct is to wrap my arms around her, but I don’t want to scare her.

“I’m so sorry. You didn’t have to—” Her voice shakes as she wipes her face.

“Of course I did.” Trying to maintain some level of composure, I say through gritted teeth, “Who the fuck hurt you?”

“My ex-boyfriend, Malik. I broke up with him a long time ago, but he won’t accept it. And I’ve been trying to get money for a new place, but he steals whatever I make so I can’t leave. I finally told him I didn’t care if I was homeless. I walked out with what I could take.”

Fury rises in my belly at the thought of some fucking punk hurting her. “Where is he?”

Her long fingers wrap around my arm as she peeks up at me with her big eyes and pleads, “Please, no. I just want to put that behind me and move forward.” She shifts her gaze to outside the windows and says almost to herself, “Only, I don’t know where to go.”

Shaking my head, I make a firm decision that I know Jules will agree with. “Then you’re coming to live with us.”

Her plush lips part as she gasps. “Oh, no, no. Carson, I couldn’t impose like that?—”

“Absolute nonsense. You’ll stay with us until you figure out where you want to go. If it works out, great. If not, you’ll have time there to devise your next move without any hurry to leave. My only warning is neither of us cooks or cleans, and we’re both pretty messy. Sorry.”

A tiny smile crosses her face. “Well, I can do both.”

The change in her makes my hand lift involuntarily, and I brush her cheek with my thumb. Those bolts of electricity shoot down my spine at the sensation of her flushed skin underneath mine. Her body shivers at my touch. “Only if you want to. No expectations, okay?” She presses her cheek into my palm and closes her eyes a moment, as if savoring the affection.

“Shouldn’t we ask Juliet first?”

“Yep. And I’ll bet you a million percent she’ll tell me I better not let you leave.”

She grows shy and turns in her seat to face the front. “Well, if she says no, I can go to… a hotel or something.”

“Nonsense.” Planting my hand on her coated thigh, I say, “Let’s go home.” Her delicate fingers slide over mine and she nods in reply.

When we arrive, I grab the bag from the trunk and open the passenger door for Valentina, but she stays put. “Maybe I should stay here until you speak with her.”

Juliet tosses the door to the garage open and sees us there and hurries over. “Oh my god. What happened?”

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