Accidental Surrogate

Home with Baby Ella

I hear Sinclair sigh heavily next to me, murmuring “Ella…”

But I ignore him, my eyes fasted on Hank, who blushes a deep red at the door and looks down at his shoes. I don’t say a word, though, or make this any easier on him. Instead, I wait patiently for an answer.

“Cora is,” he murmurs, awkward, “very special to me…

“I would imagine so,” I reply, my voice harder than I think I expected it to be. “She’s a very special person.”

Hank sighs and raises his eyes seriously to mine. I hold his gaze steadily.

“I’m very serious about Cora,” he says evenly. “I want to build a life with her. But we are moving…slowly. We both want to make sure that this is right.”

My heart warms when I hear him say that he wants to build a life with her, but still – what does that mean? I hold my baby closer to me and shift in my seat.

“And do you want to have childre-”

“Ella!” Sinclair bursts in, his voice angry, a hand on my arm.

“What!” I cry, turning to him with a frown. “It’s a legitimate question!”

“It’s none of your business!” He hisses back to me, his eyes wide and appalled.

–

my sister’s business is

My frown deepens as I open my mouth to object to my mate business, after all – but Hank clears his throat, bringing my attention back to him.

there’s nothing else,” he says, his eyes flicking

is at an end. I

says with finality, letting Sinclair know he’s free from my interrogation. “We’ll

room,

look into

children they can’t have. If Hank also isn’t on the same

in surprise as he processes this information. “And

ask, still bristling that he didn’t let me get information that I very

back to me, though. “Either way, that’s a conversation between Cora

they’re all too stupid enough to not talk to each other about it, then I am going to talk

sighs, leaning back on the chair. “I guess

“Don’t worry, baby,” I whisper to him. “I’ll teach you my

bother to counter me. He

day. But Cora finally gave us the go–ahead when Rafe’s final set of tests came back

home, I gasp a little when I see the variety of gift baskets and flowers waiting for us. “Oh,” I say, fascinated, moving forward to look at them all. Then I look up at my mate. “Did you

his eyebrows also raised in interest as he checks some tags on a few of them. “ They look to be presents from friends and well–wishers. See?” He

with sharp tears. “Oh, I miss them…” I bite my lip against the sudden rush of feelings, overwhelmed by all

the shoulders and moving the baby and I towards the stairs. “We’re way too tired for this – if you get into all these

at it as Sinclair guides me up the stairs, a steady hand on

will be there in the morning,” Sinclair says, steady, yawning. “Now?

upstairs. When we reach the door to our bedroom, though, my

his fingers, exhausted but wanting to

home for the first time, Dominic. Putting him to sleep in his own

as much as mind as he confirms this. I know, he says, simply. And so I rest my body against him – against the warm, steady bulk of him, grateful – again – to have a mate who understands me so

a dream to me. And that every moment of