Accidental Surrogate

Ella

One and a half months later, and I’m gigantic.

Gigantic.

“Five months wolf pregnant,” I mutter, stirring my yogurt with a little silver spoon, “is about thirteen months human pregnant.” Leaning back against my pillows, I raise the spoon to my mouth, but hesitate before taking a bite.

“What?” Sinclair asks, glancing at me from his spot on the bed, where he’s reading some reports on his tablet. “Has it gone sour?”

“No,” I murmur, stabbing the spoon back into the cup. “I’m just afraid if I eat another bite, this baby is going to get even bigger.”

“Good!” Sinclair declares, grinning at my swollen belly and reaching out a fond hand to rub my baby bump. “Let him get big and strong before he’s born, that way he can come out running and we can play football within a week

“Absolutely not,” I snap, giving him a little glare and hoping to hell that he’s kidding. “I am not growing you a linebacker, Dominic, so get that right out of your head.”

Sinclair chuckles and puts his tablet aside, moving lower on the bed to press his ear to my. stomach just above where the baby has settled. “What’s that, little Rafe?” he asks, loud enough for me to hear. I twist my lips and shake my head a little, knowing this is all for my benefit anyway. If he wanted to talk to Rafe, he could just do it through his bond. “You’re perfectly comfortable in there and want to go to full term so you can get big and strong?” –

I feel the baby move, then, responding to his father’s voice, pressing some extremity – a hand or a foot – across my skin, right where Sinclair’s face is. Sinclair kisses the spot where the baby presses and I feel a little thrill of Rafe’s happiness running through me.

a giant watermelon. “Tell him you’re cramped in there, and would like

with happiness, but, indeed, with a little …pinched feeling, with the desire to stretch. “See?” I say, raising my eyebrow at Sinclair as he

see what Cora and Hank say this

ask,

shrugs. “It’s not common,

“maybe since he’s one quarter moon goddess…he’ll come fast, and

help me to my feet. I accept readily and head to the closet, eager to get out of my

human insurgents who are unhappy with how well the peace talks are

about this final stretch of my pregnancy. It’s not that it’s not that I’m not enjoying being pregnant – I have loved every minute of feeling my little boy grow stronger inside of me, every little twist and

―

little at the start, it’s very clear that he’s Sinclair’s baby now. He is heavy, and

be to go back home. I sigh and lean down to pick out a pair of sneakers but stop, suddenly, when I realize that I can’t bend down far enough over my belly to grab them. So

I peek out the door, Sinclair is looking towards the

you get those?” I ask with a big smile. “I need you to put them on my feet. Baby says

to scoop up the shoes as I go to sit on the bed. “Sure thing, Cinderella,” he

big smile and takes us right back to a private exam room. I look around the crowded waiting room, opening my mouth to protest that we shouldn’t be seen before all of these women who have been so patient, but Sinclair presses

our personal physicians for our whole family. In exchange, though, they both requested that he set them up in private practice