Accidental Surrogate

Ella

I’m holding my breath for the second time this evening, though this time it isn’t to save myself from any bad smells or illness. Now I’m waiting to see if Sinclair will be honest with me about his ex-wife, or if he’ll let me down again with another lie. In truth I’m expecting him to disappoint me, though I don’t believe he has bad intentions. On the contrary, I think he’s much too determined to protect me – but he’s very mistaken if he thinks keeping me in the dark is going to make me safer. If anything it will put me more at risk. I don’t want to be blindsided again, and after what happened with Mike I feel especially sensitive about dishonesty – however well intentioned.

He sighs, and drops his hands from my face. His green eyes bore into me, and a muscle flutters in his cheek, betraying his agitation over the evening’s events. “Roger wasn’t entirely wrong. Lydia is back because she wants us to try again.”

For a moment I’m so surprised he actually admitted this that I can’t speak. At the same time, my heart sinks and swells. It hurts me to know this information, but I’m touched and impressed that Sinclair confided in me. He really does seem to be trying to do better and communicate more, and I appreciate it immensely. As I work through my conflicting feelings I gradually wrap my mind around his words. “Try again.” I repeat. “For a baby, or as mates?”

“Both.” Sinclair answers simply, shaking his head. “But it’s not going to happen.”

I blink, “Why not?”

“There’s a reason I didn’t go after Lydia when she left.” Sinclair growls, a dark look overtaking his features. “She might have walked out, but our marriage was over for a long time by then.”

“But I thought…” I trail off, remembering Sinclair and Roger’s conflicting statements about mates. Roger made it sound like fated couples shared a love deeper than any ocean and no chosen bond could ever compete, but Sinclair described things differently. He said that he and Lydia hadn’t been good for one another, that some chosen couples were happier than fated ones. “You’re fated,” I finally continue, wondering if I’m asking this because I believe it, or because I’m afraid of the possibility. “Don’t you love her?”

The corner of his mouth twitches up into a sad smile, and for a moment I can imagine the boy he once was. I can imagine a young Sinclair diving headfirst into love without any fear at all – driven by his strength and innate confidence. Now he looks as though he learned his lesson the hard way, and though some bitterness remains, there’s also acceptance.

“Sometimes I think the Goddess fates some couples because they have to go through the experience in order to become the person they’re destined to be, not because she intends them to stay together forever, or even that they’re well suited to each other.” Sinclair explains thoughtfully. “Sometimes they might be sent to test a chosen couple’s bond, or even to break your heart. There’s always a larger plan, though it’s hard to accept that the painful parts of life serve any purpose other than tormenting you.”

own relationships. “I’ve never believed in fate or destiny before… but I’d much rather think that I spent all

would have conceived this baby.” His eyes sparkle with mischief,

point out, covering his hand with my own and wishing I could feel our child’s emotions

“I don’t want to talk about Lydia anymore. I just

he told me he wasn’t going to get back together with Lydia, and I don’t feel confident enough with him to press my luck on the matter. I know

bedding piled around my body. “It’s only eight o’clock.” He reminds me, his brow wrinkling

I was just really cold after the festival.

tsks, grazing his knuckles over my cheek. “Poor baby, do you feel

answer, tilting my chin up and shooting him an accusing stare.

that makes me feel like I need to lock myself behind a closed door before he huffs and puffs and blows my house down to devour me. Suddenly the goosebumps covering my arms

Sinclair purrs, just before he

me, but the little voice in my head pushes me to give chase, and my human instincts don’t need any

clothes either. Soon we’re both in our underwear, and my entire body is surrounded by Sinclair on all sides. The blankets are over our heads, and all I can see is the dim

skin to skin contact to work.” He smirks – I can’t see it, but I hear it

like having me naked. I think maybe I should go climb

delicious shivers down my spine. “First of all, you aren’t naked, not yet anyway.” He counters, his words a sultry promise. “Second, baths are