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Knowing what was to come, I couldn’t stay still. I had so much planning to do. My cabin was a modest one with two bedrooms, and I knew I had to start prepping that second room to become a nursery. If I didn’t do it now, then I would forget later, and then it would get done late, and I’d be a mess about it.
Everything was better when it was planned well in advance.
After a few stretches, I hopped down the porch steps and raced toward the forest. Light sifted through the trees, casting an ethereal glow around the bushes where fog crept in from thefields. I wove around the dirt path for a while as I mulled over my next steps.
Anita would probably need a lot more than what I paid for her to be my surrogate. Even though it would be a few weeks until we found out whether the procedure worked, I wanted to ensure her comfort now. That would probably encourage the pregnancy, or so the packet said when I reviewed it as soon as I got home.
Happy surrogates create healthy babies.
Patricia had assured me that Anita would be just fine. She had everything she needed. She had her doctor appointments set up, as well as prenatal vitamins and a set of maternity clothes for when she started showing.
Ifshe started showing.
Because we didn’t know yet if yesterday’s procedure had been a success. There just wasn’t a way to tell. Even as shifters, with our heightened senses and abilities, we couldn’t know instantly.
Though I sure wished that I could. My impatience grew, along with a gnawing sense of anxiety about Anita and her safety. People who were in pain were known to have extra strength during those moments, but this had been so much different. This had been an alarming grip that told me she’d experienced great discomfort in her life.
That wasn’t something I wanted her to ever experience again. And while it didn’t make sense from a logical perspective, it made sense from a shifter perspective. Because shifters protected their packs and the people they cared about. Protecting Anita and my possible kid was just a side effect of me preparing to be a parent.
She was doing a lot for me when all I’d done was shoot some spunk into a cup. It would be nice to do more for her during this whole process. I didn’t have to do anythingoutlandish. I just wanted to make sure her needs were settled. And that meant I had to call her to find out.
My jog was a blur until I got back to my original path. I wound back toward the exit, skipping past the stone paths that led to the other neighborhood houses. When I got back to my porch, the sun was much higher in the sky and sweat drenched my shirt. I had to call Anita before she got busy doing anything else.
Inside, I shed my dirty clothes and took a quick shower. Still dripping with water, I grabbed my phone and clicked on her name in my contact list. The line trilled several times. I frowned when I got an automated response simply rattling off her phone number.
Odd. Maybe she wasn’t awake yet. But if that was the case, then I could just text her. That was probably better than leaving a message on a voicemail I wasn’t sure was hers.
After disconnecting the call, I opened a new text thread.It’s Liam. Hit me back if you want to grab a (non-alcoholic) drink later.
I set my phone on the coffee table and then plopped onto the couch. My living room wasn’t much to look at. Other than a mocha-brown couch to match the espresso-brown coffee table, the wooden floors were predominantly bare. The mantel across from me held one picture of Kylie posing with me. And the only reason it was there was because she had put it there.
Years of traveling the country—as well as between countries—had turned me into a minimalist. What was the use of keeping things when I was just going to move again? I supposed it would take some time to settle in here. But even three months under my belt hadn’t forced me to relax about it. Certainly having a kid would open me up to owning more stuff.
My phone buzzed. I swept it up quickly, heart hammering as I opened the response from Anita:I’d love a (non-alcoholic) drink. Where and when?
A smile cut into my cheeks.I can pick you up at 5:30 PM tonight. Sound good?
Blood rushed past my ears, the sound of thunderous beats accompanying it. I never got nervous about things. I never got worried about people other than my small crew. But something about Anita made me want to worry about her. Something about the brilliant hope in her eyes, dashed with a secret sadness, drew me to her.
And when she replied to confirm our plans, I knew I would figure it out. One way or another.
Even if it was expressly forbidden.
***
Anita walked briskly out of a two-story brick building that appeared to need a dozen repairs. From the street, I spotted the way the fire escape was rusting too much. I saw cracks in the first-floor windows. I noticed the grime growing around the rotted shutters.
It wasn’t until she opened the passenger door that I broke out of my trance. She shot me a gorgeous grin, looking far better in her floral romper and coat than she had in her scrubs the previous morning. Not that scrubs looked bad on her.
“You look great.” I snapped my mouth shut while turning back to the road. “I mean, you clean up well.”
I popped the car into gear, waiting until I heard the click of her seat belt before peeling away from the curb.
She chuckled. “Thanks. You look good yourself.”
“I try. I don’t always get it right.”
“Isn’t that what it means to be human?”
