Christian's POV
The morning light streamed through my window as I was jolted awake by a swarm of notifications on my phone. The surrogacy agency had scheduled interviews with applicants for the surrogacy, and I needed to be at the agency by 10 a.m. I quickly dialed John, and he answered on the first ring.
"Clear up my schedule," I demanded.
"Is that really how you greet your best friend early in the morning?" he retorted, annoyance evident in his voice.
"Sorry, John, but I don't have time for banter," I replied, urgency creeping into my tone. He hung up on me.
Typical John, always so dramatic. I called back, and this time, I greeted him properly. "Good morning."
"You can't clear your schedule today," he shot back, ignoring my greeting.
"And why not?" I asked, baffled.
"You've got a meeting at 8 a.m., another one at 9 a.m., and then the one at 10 a.m. You've canceled those meetings so many times that I've lost count. No cancellations this time," he explained, determination lacing his words.
That's tough!
"And why are you even asking me to clear up your schedule?" he continued.
"I have a meeting at the surrogacy agency today at 10 a.m. with the applicants," I clarified.
"That's quick," he noted.
"Yeah, it is," I replied, feeling the weight of urgency.
"See you at the office," he said before ending the call.
I hurriedly prepared and made my way to the company. Arriving at my office just in time, I breezed through the first meeting at 8 a.m. The second one went well, but the third? I wrapped it up in ten minutes, knowing the lady had a heavy crush on me. I could sway her easily.
"I'm really sorry for cutting this short; I have another pressing meeting," I apologized, tossing her a charming smile.
"There's no problem. We can chat later," she whispered, a blush creeping into her cheeks.
With a confident grin that I knew stole her breath, I left my office with John, heading straight to the surrogacy agency, which turned out to be quite a distance.
At 11:30 a.m., we finally pulled up to the agency. The receptionist welcomed us warmly and led us to the interview room and I walked pass the applicants lined up outside with anticipation.
Welcome, Mr. Blackwood," the manager greeted, extending a firm handshake. I met his grip, returning the smile.
"Thank you! Let's get started," I replied, settling at the table with John beside me.
The first applicant walked in, and John couldn't help but murmur a "wow" at her appearance. I rolled my eyes, displeased. "Next," I interrupted before she even had a chance to speak. The room fell silent, all eyes on me in shock.
The manager raised an eyebrow. "Is there something wrong, Mr. Blackwood?"
"Yes, she's short," I stated plainly. The manager's eyes widened in surprise.
John scoffed lightly, shaking his head. "Are you picking a surrogate, or are you picking a wife?"
"So what if I'm picking a surrogate? That woman is going to carry Christian Blackwood's child. She must be perfect," I shot back, my tone unyielding.
The next applicant entered and I called for the next instantly. She's tall, but ugly. The next few applicants entered and they were nowhere close to my taste.
If I have to pick someone, it shouldn't be someone that's no way more than Melody. Melody is my exact taste in a woman, but she messed up my heart so I have to take someone better than her even if the person is just a surrogate, she has to be better than Melody.
Frustrated, the manager finally asked, "What kind of woman do you want, sir?"
"I want an average-height woman with long, dark brown hair, big brown eyes, caramel skin, a high nose, and red lips," I specified, unknowingly painting a picture of Melody.
"And yes, a perfect body shape," I added, my desire becoming clearer.
"We hope you find her," the manager said, some resignation in his voice as John shook his head in disbelief.
The next applicant entered, and she was nearly everything I wanted, but her legs just weren't straight. "Next," I ordered, noting the two men beside me gasp in confusion.
"But she fits your description," the manager protested.
"Yes, but her legs… It's just not what I'm looking for," I insisted, unwavering.
John finally exploded, "You're being ridiculous!"
"Ridiculous? This child's future is at stake! It's not just my DNA; her DNA matters too. I need someone who meets my standards." I rolled my eyes.
The next applicant entered, and I felt a flicker of excitement; she was everything I desired on paper; smart, articulate, and driven, except for the caramel skin I had envisioned. But I convinced myself I could manage that. "Go ahead," I urged, gesturing for her to introduce herself, but the moment she spoke, I cut her off. "Next!"
"What is wrong this time, sir?" the manager asked, his brows furrowed in confusion.
"No caramel skin, but I could manage her. However, I can't handle her accent; it's not fluent enough," I replied, shaking my head in frustration.
"I'm outta here." John stood up, exasperation written all over his face.
"You can't blame me for wanting what I want. It's not just my blood that's going to make up this child; the woman's blood is equally significant. She has to be perfect so my child can be perfect too," I explained, trying to justify my standards.
"That's a very lame excuse for your pickiness," John countered, glaring.
"But it's the truth," I shrugged, though deep down, I felt the weight of my own words.
Just then, the next applicant entered, and my heart skipped a beat as I recognized her instantly. "Mel?"
"Chris?" She echoed, equally shocked.
Seeing Melody, my Melody after sixteen long years was an emotional whirlwind. A surge of feelings crashed over me: anger at the past, pain from memories I had tried to bury, and an undeniable trace of affection. The woman who had once stolen my heart and later returned it in shambles was now standing before me, applying to be my surrogate.