Surrogate For Alpha Dom

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.

nothing else,” he says, his eyes flicking between Sinclair and I

end. I

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

room,

I look into his eyes,

wants children they can’t have. If Hank also isn’t on the same page with her about kids, then what’s the point?”

up in surprise as he processes this information. “And what’s Cora’s page about kids?” he asks. “Does she want

still bristling that he didn’t let me get information that

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

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

back on the chair.

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

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

time we finally get home, all three of us exhausted by the activities of the day. But Cora finally

cross the threshold into our 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

some 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 set neatly

overwhelmed

baby and I towards the stairs. “We’re way too tired for

cry, looking over my shoulder at it as Sinclair guides me up the stairs, a steady hand on my back. “Rafe’s first teddy

the morning,”

door to our bedroom, though, my eyes fill with tears again as I look up at

between his fingers, exhausted but wanting to be there

him to sleep

to my soul 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

is all a dream to me. And that every moment of it – even one as simple as this is a miracle.