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.

eyes

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

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

scowl as Hank leaves the room,

admonishing. I look into his eyes,

can’t have. If Hank also isn’t on the same page with her about kids, then

this information. “And what’s Cora’s page about kids?” he asks. “Does she want them?”

Roger?” I ask, still bristling that he didn’t let me get information that I

don’t know…” He brings his eyes back to me, though. “Either way, that’s a conversation between Cora

back onto the pillows. “If they’re all too stupid enough to not talk to

is as trouble does,” Sinclair sighs, leaning back on the chair. “I guess I shouldn’t have expected any

him on his little head. “Don’t worry, baby,” I whisper

a little laugh in his chair, but doesn’t bother to counter me. He knows

home, all three of us exhausted by the activities of the day. But Cora finally gave us

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 do all this?” I ask, my

few of them. “ They look to be presents from friends and well–wishers. See?” He

against the sudden rush of feelings, overwhelmed by all the love in the room when I’ve been so distracted – I haven’t even kept up

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

the

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

and allowing myself to be shepherded upstairs. When we reach the door to our bedroom, though, my eyes fill with tears again as I look up at

murmurs, taking my chin between his fingers, exhausted but wanting to be there

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

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

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