“After Dr. Alvarez told us a fourth pregnancy could kill you,” he continued, “I couldn’t stop thinking about those two embryos sitting in a freezer two towns over. Ours. Both of ours, made from both of us, just waiting.”
“Owen,” I said carefully, “what did you do?”
He finally looked up and met my eyes.
“About a year and a half ago,” he said, “I started looking into surrogacy. Quietly. I found an agency. I met with a woman named Priya three separate times before I ever said a word to you about any of it.”
My chest went tight, a strange mix of feelings arriving all at once, none of them fully sorted yet.
“You did this without telling me,” I said.
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