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 between Sinclair and I now,

is at an end. I sigh, nodding, as Sinclair

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

as Hank leaves the room, my eyes on

I look into his eyes,

thinks he wants children they can’t have. If Hank also isn’t on the same page with

eyes go up in surprise as he processes this information. “And what’s Cora’s page about kids?” he

didn’t let

into space and considering it. “Actually, I don’t know…” He brings his eyes back to me,

me,” I murmur, settling back onto the pillows. “If they’re all too stupid enough to not talk to each other about it, then I am

does,” Sinclair sighs, leaning back on the chair. “I guess I shouldn’t

down at my baby. Then, I kiss him on his little head. “Don’t worry, baby,”

chair, but doesn’t bother to

fallen by the time we finally get home, all three of us exhausted by the activities of the day. But Cora finally gave us the go–ahead

gift baskets and flowers waiting for us. “Oh,” I say, fascinated, moving

tags on a few of them. “ They look to be presents from friends and well–wishers. See?” He points to one filled with hand–drawn cards

feelings, overwhelmed by all the love in the room when

I towards the stairs. “We’re way too tired for this – if you get into all these cards now, you’ll cry yourself to death –”

I cry, looking over my shoulder at it as Sinclair guides me up the stairs, a steady

in the morning,”

and allowing myself to be shepherded upstairs. When we reach the door to our bedroom, though,

wanting to be there for me. “What is it this time? What’s wrong?”

say, my voice trembling a little, looking between him and the baby. “Just…we’re bringing him home for the first time, Dominic. Putting him to sleep in his own little bed.

he says, simply. And so I rest my body against him

really, that this is all a dream to me. And that every moment of