The Rangeman jet lands smoothly in a private airport outside Miami. It's close to the Air Force base, and I wonder if the location was intentional. Ranger's lip twitches in amusement. "Stephanie, it's easier to land here than at the Miami airport," he says. I roll my eyes because Ranger has an answer for everything.
"Who's meeting us?" I ask, unbuckling the belt when Ace announces we can disembark.
"Silvio," he replies. I haven't seen Silvio in years. "His wife, Marybeth, is preparing your apartment. She'll unpack everything for you."
"I have an apartment at Rangeman? Wasn't I supposed to live with Zack and Tyler?" I ask.
"The lawyer representing Tyler needs you to go through the screening process before allowing you to live in the house," Ranger explains.
"What? That's ridiculous. I'm not going to hurt Tyler," I snap. "Maybe I'll stay at Rangeman and tell everyone else to fuck off." My reaction is extreme, and my inner rhino is ready to run everyone over. I blame it on the hormone injections. Ranger lets me have a tantrum and removes my luggage from the locked closet. He hands them to Silvio, who came aboard during my rant. Silvio wisely remains silent and helps Ranger unload the plane.
Ace conducts the post-flight checks and arranges maintenance on the jet. I blush when he catches my eye and pantomimes an explosion. "Sorry," I mumble. "I don't know what has gotten into me."
"Take a nap before your appointment. It will make you feel better," Ranger suggests, basically telling Silvio and Ace that I'm hormonal. His recommendation irritates me, and I get lost in my thoughts.
I want to cancel my appointment. Why should I go through the hassle of harvesting my eggs and fertilizing them with Zack's sperm? I'm angry at Zack for not standing up for me to the lawyer. Did he initiate this insane screening process? Just because I don't want to get pregnant does not mean I'm incapable of loving a child. He knows that better than anyone else. It feels like someone is twisting my arm, forcing me to get pregnant instead of entertaining surrogacy.
"Stephanie!" Ranger shouts, breaking me from the swirling disparaging thoughts in my mind.
"What?" I snap.
"We're here," he replies. I look outside the vehicle's backseat window. How did I get here? When did I get into the SUV? "I helped you get inside the SUV, and Silvio drove."
I unbuckle the seatbelt and exit the vehicle. The Rangeman garage takes up half the building's footprint on the main level. I look around to find the stairs leading to the basement or sub-level. A sign to my far right shows a staircase going up. Huh. Maybe Miami doesn't have basements.
Ranger gets a few men to unload my luggage from the cargo hold in the SUV. I let him guide me to my apartment, but I'm impatiently waiting for someone to arrive with my fob. "Why didn't you get Hector to reprogram mine to work here?" I ask, glaring at Ranger.
"Different frequency," Ranger replies. I want to call bullshit because his fob works at every branch. He correctly reads my expression and says, "I'll get you a new fob to access Rangeman in Trenton and Boston, plus the safe houses."
"Wise man," I sarcastically respond.
I enter my apartment and wait for the guys delivering my luggage to go away. They lose the argument of putting the bags in my bedroom and promptly leave after depositing them inside the door. The apartment door shuts with a quiet click, locking immediately. I drag my largest suitcase into the bedroom and unzip it. My clothes are neatly folded inside. Ella has an outfit on the top of the pile. I smile before removing the yoga pants, comfortable shirt and undergarments to place on my bed.
The bathroom contains my typical hair and body wash products, making me feel more at home in the new apartment. I strip, letting my clothes collect on the dark grey tiles outside the shower stall. It barely takes two seconds for the water to warm up. I step inside, let the heat soak into my aching muscles, and use soapy water to wash away the sweat of travelling. I'm feeling more human when I turn off the shower.
My appointment is in a few hours. I use a map to research shopping opportunities near the clinic. Marybeth will buy my clothes, but I need something to distract me from my raging hormones. Taking the fertility injections for two cycles is taking a toll on my emotions. I hope the eggs remain viable this time because this is my last attempt for the doctor to harvest up to fifteen eggs. Zack's specimen should be in refrigerated storage at the clinic, ready for the doctor to inseminate my eggs within hours of harvesting. Once the embryos reach a specific stage, she will freeze them until I find a surrogate to carry my baby.
Needing someone to accompany me to the appointment, I text Hector, "Are you here yet?"
He replies, "Si. I'm outside your apartment."
I jump off the couch and run to the door, pulling it open. Hector chuckles and steps inside. I quickly hug my friend and slip on my running shoes. We take the elevator to the ground level and climb into my SUV, which he brought to Florida.
Hector drives to the plaza since he's familiar with the area. He parks closest to the clinic, and we walk to the shops where I can buy clothing appropriate for the Miami weather. I find many sundresses and cute tank tops with matching shorts and skirts. Since I make an impressive salary at Rangeman, I can afford the clothes. Hector laughs when I find sandals to match any sundress I wear.
I enter the clinic alone while Hector delivers my purchases to Rangeman. He promises to pick me up in forty-five minutes when it's safe to go home. The receptionist greets me, welcoming me to the clinic and stating her name is Gracie. I accept the clipboard with the paperwork to provide my insurance information. "Have you eaten anything in the last seven to twelve hours?" Gracie asks when I return the documents.
"No, but I drank a coffee around nine o'clock last night. Would that impact anything?" I ask.
"You should be fine. I'll prepare a bucket if you feel sick," Gracie replies, winking. She reads the papers to see if I have someone coming to drive me home. Once Gracie reads Hector's name, she says, "Take a seat. The doctor will be with you in a few minutes."
"Thank you," I say, sitting in the waiting area. Cosmopolitan, Vogue, Elle, Women's Health and the book "What To Expect When You're Expecting" are neatly arranged on the table in the centre of the tastefully decorated waiting room. I sit on the faux leather chair, which is more comfortable than it appears.
The magazines are the newest issues. I pick up Cosmopolitan and flip to the relationship quiz page. It's silly and not predictive of a strong relationship. According to the results, I should be with Joe. I roll my eyes, returning the magazine to the table. As I extend a hand to reach for Women's Health to read the article on the best diet of the month, a woman calls my name.
"Hi," I reply, standing.
She smiles politely and glances around the waiting room. "Is someone here to drive you home?" she asks.
"He will be here when it's time to leave," I insist. If we don't take care of harvesting the eggs today, I will walk away and never return.
Dr. Mitchell is in her late forties. She's pretty in a "girl next door" sense. Her chestnut hair is hanging down her back in a complicated braid. I follow her instructions. Another woman enters the procedure room. "Hi, Stephanie," she says as though we've been friends all our lives. "I'm Aubrey. Dr. Mitchell's assistant."
"Hi," I awkwardly reply. Aubrey and Dr. Mitchell pull neoprene gloves over their hands. While the doctor examines me, Aubrey sets up the ultrasound machine. I watch the women prepare everything for the procedure. Aubrey hands me a cup with a few pills inside. I pop them into my mouth and swallow them with water. Within a twenty minutes, I'm feeling very numb and groggy.
"This may sting a little," Dr. Mitchell says. I feel pressure on my abdomen as Aubrey presses the ultrasound wand into my abdomen, showing my ovary on the screen. Dr. Mitchell picks up the needle to extract the eggs. I turn my head to face the wall. The women repeat the process on my other ovary.
"You did great," Aubrey says, touching my arm. "I'll help you get dressed."
My legs feel heavy as I swing them off the procedure table. I watch the doctor place a lid on the specimen. "I harvested eight eggs," she announces. "I'll inseminate and store them until you're ready for implantation."
"Okay," I groggily reply.
"Why are you choosing IVF? Is something wrong with conceiving the usual way?" Aubrey intrusively asks.
"I don't want to get pregnant," I answer honestly. "We're fertilizing the eggs to use later with a surrogate."
"Oh," she says, seemingly happy with my answer. I'm glad when she stops her interrogation. "If you have any discomfort or spotting that lasts more than a few days, call us for an appointment or visit the ER."
I thank Aubrey for helping me. She accompanies me to the waiting room to ensure I have a ride home. Hector is leaning on the wall beside the door. I wave my fingers and giggle. He gives me a crooked smile and pushes off the wall.
"I told you I had a ride," I mumble, accepting Hector's arm. The grumbles from my stomach are a reminder that I should eat soon. I want to grab food on the way to Rangeman, but Hector doesn't stop. He must be under orders to come back without pitstops.
"How many did she get?" Hector asks, distracting me from the golden arches of the McDonald's sign.
"Eight," I reply. "Zack and I have eight babies. Maybe less if some don't survive."
"What happens if none survive?" Hector asks.
Without much thought, I reply, "We don't have biological children. I'm only doing this for possibly, maybe, having one child in the future. Nothing is set in stone, and I don't have to use the embryos. Zack and I have to figure out what to do with Tyler. Are we adopting, raising him as our nephew or giving him to someone else to adopt? We have too many options regarding Tyler. The wrong decision could harm him. What if I mess up?"
"You have our help. Do you honestly think your Merry Men would let you fail?" Hector asks. I blush in embarrassment that Hector knows what I call the men, but it is surprising that Zip never shared the nickname with his closest friend. Hector correctly reads my expression and adds, "Zip will never tell your secrets or betray your trust."
"I know I can trust you guys for everything," I reply, hoping my generalized answer satisfies both questions.
"Trust your instincts. They haven't led you wrong yet," Hector reminds me.
"Thanks," I say, happy someone has confidence in me while I'm lacking that in myself. "Hector, do you think I should speak to a therapist?"
"It wouldn't hurt," he answers. "Everyone needs a professional at some point. The hormones heightened your hormones. Meditation and exercise are helping you control the rages and keep you grounded. If you want to talk to a therapist, you should. It might help you sort out your feelings about Tyler. Rangeman has a psychologist who you can meet and decide where you want to go from there."
"I appreciate your honesty. When we get back, can you send me his contact information? "
"Si."
Hector didn't need to send me the information. Ranger meets me at the elevator's entrance to the parking garage. I raise my brows, silently questioning why he isn't in his office. "Stephanie, I have someone for you to meet. He's in the infirmary on the second floor," Ranger announces when I approach.
Hector touches my shoulder in a friendly gesture before taking the stairs to his office, where he'll arrange the installation for the following morning. I step inside the elevator cart with Ranger.
"Is he the Rangeman therapist?" I ask.
"Psychologist," he corrects. "Milo is helping Zip with his grief over losing Bonnie."
"Ah. Did Zip put you up to this?" I question, unhappy that Zack went behind my back to discuss this with Ranger.
"Zip didn't say anything to me. I can see you're struggling with everything," Ranger replies, dispelling my theory of Zack tattling on me. "Babe, Zip would never disrespect you by discussing your issues with me. I can't guarantee he never mentioned the problems to Milo, but he wouldn't tell anyone else."
"I know. I'm feeling a little insecure for some reason," I sigh.
"How did everything else go?"
"Okay, I guess. The doctor will contact me in a few weeks with the number of embryos she managed to create," I reply.
"You'll be an extraordinary mother, Stephanie," he says.
"Thank you for the vote of confidence. Now, I have to start believing it." Replaying my words in my mind, I realize the guys are right. I need to talk to someone.