The Billionaire's Surrogate

CHAPTER EIGHT: The Risk of Feeling

Tessa’s POV

The dress was too tight.

Not physically it fit like a second skin but emotionally. The fabric felt like it was holding in more than just my body. It was holding in everything I couldn’t say. Every feeling I wasn’t allowed to have.

Liam didn’t say much in the car. He held my hand, posed with me, looked at me like I was art but in that heavy silence, I could feel the wall between us again. Only now, it wasn’t made of cold stone. It was made of fear. Fragile, trembling, ready to shatter with a single word.

And still, I stayed quiet.

Because if I said what I really felt what I really wanted I was scared he’d pull away. Scared I’d ruin everything.

We weren’t supposed to be this. This tangled. This close. This fragile.

We were supposed to be a contract.

I was supposed to be the surrogate. The body. The vessel.

Not the woman whose heart felt like it was breaking every time he looked away too long.

The moment we walked into the Ashford Gallery, it was like stepping into another world.

Glass. Light. Cameras flashing. Faces turning. Whispers that followed us like perfume.

Liam’s hand never left mine. Not once. He didn’t introduce me as a business arrangement. He didn’t correct the reporters who called me “his partner.” He didn’t distance himself.

But he didn’t call me his, either.

And that should’ve been enough. That should’ve made me feel proud. But all I could think about was how carefully he walked the line. How masterfully he gave them a story without ever telling the truth.

The truth was: I wanted him. And not because he was beautiful, or rich, or powerful.

I wanted the man I saw at 3 a.m. when he made me tea without asking. The man who whispered to my belly when he thought I was asleep. The man who touched my hand like he was asking for permission.

The man who was too afraid to want me back.

After the event, I showered the scent of champagne and stares off my skin and crawled into bed.

I expected sleep to be impossible. But it wasn’t.

Because for the first time in weeks, I didn’t feel alone.

He didn’t come into my room. He didn’t kiss me goodnight.

But I felt him.

In the way the hallway light stayed on longer than usual.

In the way his footsteps paused outside my door.

In the way he didn’t knock… but didn’t walk away right away either.

And I knew I just knew that something was breaking inside him too.

The next morning, I woke up early. My feet were swollen. The baby had kicked all night like he was dancing inside me. But despite it all, I smiled.

Because I didn’t feel like a stranger in this home anymore.

I walked into the kitchen, expecting silence, but found Liam already dressed, nursing black coffee, and staring out the window like the city had done something personal to him.

He turned when he heard me. His eyes softened instantly.

“You should’ve slept more,” he said gently.

I shrugged. “I could say the same to you.”

He stared at me a second too long. Then two.

And then… he smiled.

It wasn’t the charming, calculated Ashford smile I’d seen him use in boardrooms. It was quiet. Honest. Like he wasn’t pretending anymore.

“I’m glad you came with me last night,” he said.

“I’m glad you asked.”

“I didn’t ask,” he replied, his voice low. “I needed you.”

And just like that, I couldn’t breathe.

Because if he meant it even a little it changed everything.

He took a slow step forward, like he was crossing some invisible line. He looked down at my stomach. Then up into my eyes.

“How is he?”

“He kicked all night,” I said. “Must’ve been the lobster.”

He chuckled, and the sound shook something loose in me. A feeling I’d buried since the day I signed that contract.

Hope.

He placed his hand gently on my belly, and I swear the baby kicked again.

His eyes widened. “Was that”

“That was him saying hi.”

Liam didn’t pull his hand away.

He stayed there, silent, lost in something that felt almost holy.

“You know,” he murmured, “when I first agreed to this, I thought I was doing the right thing. For the company. For the family.”

I tilted my head. “And now?”

He looked at me like he could see through me.

“Now, I’m doing it for you.”

My heart stuttered.

“Liam”

“You don’t have to say anything,” he added quickly. “I just wanted you to know.”

He stepped back. The moment cracked like glass between us. But even as he turned to leave, the echo of his words stayed wrapped around my ribs.

Now, I’m doing it for you.

The rest of the day passed in quiet rhythm. He worked in his study. I painted in the sunroom. Our lives didn’t collide, but they circled close. Always within reach.

That night, he left a note under my tea mug:

**"When you're ready to talk, I'll be here. -L."

I didn’t sleep much.

Because the truth was, I was already talking.

In every glance.

Every silence.

Every beat of my heart that said I wanted more.

But I didn’t just want to be wanted. I wanted to be chosen.

And I didn’t know if Liam Ashford, heir to the empire, knew how to choose someone without calculating the cost.

I didn’t know what to do with everything he made me feel. It wasn't just affection. It wasn't infatuation. It was fear the kind that settled in your bones when you realized the one person you were supposed to keep your heart from was the only one who’d ever truly held it.

I lay in bed that night with one hand on my belly and the other gripping the edge of the comforter. The baby shifted inside me again, another soft roll, another reminder that this was no longer just about me. Or even just about Liam.

We were already a family even if we hadn’t admitted it aloud.

I thought about the nursery and how he lingered there like it grounded him. I thought about his hand on my belly and the way his voice softened when he asked about the baby. He wasn’t pretending anymore. And neither was I.

Maybe it was too soon. Maybe everything was built on fragile timelines and even more fragile hearts. But in the dark, with nothing but the hum of the city outside and the steady rhythm of my child inside me, I whispered something I’d never dared say before.

“I want this.”

I didn’t know if I meant the baby, or Liam, or the way this house felt like it had started to cradle me instead of cage me.

Maybe I meant all of it.

And maybe… just maybe… that was okay.

And in that quiet moment, I realized something else. I wasn’t just surviving anymore. I was hoping. Dreaming. Building something. Something messy and unplanned, yes but something real. For the first time in years, I didn’t feel like a burden or an outsider. I felt like a woman standing at the edge of something extraordinary.

And all I had to do was take one step forward.