Expecting You

by Claire Cullen

  The door opened, and Zac found himself face to face with a tall, dark-haired alpha, a phone pressed to his ear.

  “If you email those notes to me this morning, I’ll sketch an amended draft this afternoon. Thanks, J. I’ve got to go.”

  He hung up and gave Zac a rueful smile. “Sorry about that. Meeting ran long. It’s Isaac, right?”

  “Good morning, Mr. Rayne. Zac is fine. Sorry, I know I’m a little early.”

  “Call me Beckett,” the alpha said, waving him inside. “And I never have a problem with early. You found the place okay?”

  He held out a hand for Zac’s coat. Zac shrugged it off and handed it over with a smile. Despite his friendliness, Beckett looked worn and a little anxious. The least Zac could do was put him at ease.

  “Sure. I’ve worked in the neighborhood before. You have a lovely house. The architect is very talented.”

  Beckett grinned at that. “Who have you been talking to? Oh, right. Our previous nannies.” He suddenly turned serious again. “But you’re here, so they haven’t scared you off.”

  “Of course not. They all said the same thing; that you were great to work for, and Luca was an adorable boy going through a really tough time.”

  He got a nod of acknowledgment at that. “Come on inside. I’ll show you around, and you can meet Luca. He’s busy drawing in the lounge so I can keep an eye on him from my office.”

  Zac was aware the previous nanny had already left his position. It wasn’t a great way to start off, since it meant that Beckett would be under pressure to fill the position.

  “I’d like to meet Luca first, if that’s okay? I can see the house later.”

  Beckett’s phone buzzed, and he glanced at it with a distracted frown before slipping it into his pocket and giving Zac his full attention. “Of course, that makes total sense. It’s this way.”

  Zac had a mental checklist that he went through on visiting each new home. Things like cleanliness, signs of strain or that parents weren’t coping. He saw a clean but lived-in house, no piles of mail, trash, or dishes anywhere so far. No dust or dirt gathering. The only strain he could see was on Beckett’s face, and who wouldn’t be under stress juggling a demanding job and a sick kid?

  The house had been designed to maximize the light, each room bright and airy. They found Luca kneeling beside a coffee table, humming as he drew a picture with crayons.

  Zac readied his best smile as he followed Beckett into the room.

  “Luca, there’s someone here to meet you. Do you want to say hi?”

  The toddler looked up, glancing at Beckett before his eyes found Zac. He stared at him in silence for a moment, then went back to his coloring.

  “No.”

  “Uh, buddy? No, what?”

  Beckett seemed mystified, giving Zac an apologetic smile.

  “This is Isaac, Luca.”

  “Just Zac is fine,” he said again, moving around so that he could get a better look at Luca’s face. “It’s nice to meet you, Luca. Those are some nice colors. Can I take a peek at your drawing?”

  Luca glanced up again, a frown on his face.

  “No.”

  He flung the crayon in his hand at Zac. It bounced harmlessly off Zac’s thigh. As he bent down to pick it up, Beckett did the same, the two of them bumping heads.

  “Ouch, sorry,” Beckett said, handing the crayon back to his son. “Luca, it’s not nice to throw things at people. Say sorry to Zac.”

  That got a predictable answer, with far more heat behind it this time.

  “No!”

  Beckett looked horrified, and Zac had to work hard to hide his smile. “The subtleties of the word no are lost on everyone but toddlers.”

  “He isn’t usually like this,” Beckett said in a rushed whisper, sounding a little desperate. “He’s sweet and shy, and…”

  Zac shook his head. “No kid likes to deal with a lot of change. He’s not ready to make friends just now. That’s okay.”

  He glanced at his watch. It was a little early for lunch, but about the right time for a snack.

  “Hey, Luca. Do you like magic milk? It’s my favorite.”

  Luca peeked up from his coloring, his eyes flicking to his dad before coming back to Zac. “No?”

  “Well, I’m going to have some. Maybe your dad would like some too.”

  He turned back to Beckett. “Which way is the kitchen?”

  The alpha showed him, but his phone rang just inside the door, and he stepped away to answer it.

  Zac suspected Luca’s behavior was less about his arrival and more about his father being busy a lot. Luca was used to having someone’s undivided attention for most of the day.

  Being a nanny meant Zac was comfortable being in other people’s spaces. Moving around the unfamiliar kitchen with ease, he located some glasses and a carton of milk. He filled each glass halfway, then pulled the straws from his bag.

  He met Beckett in the corridor, showing him the drinks. “They’re just straws with chocolate syrup in them. The milk turns chocolaty as you drink it. Just like magic. Oldest trick in the book.”

  “Worth a try,” Beckett said, though he didn’t look convinced.

  The alpha walked him back to the lounge but kept his distance as Zac joined Luca at the coffee table, setting a glass down in front of him. He kept the second glass for himself, sucking up a long drink of milk.

  “Yum.”

  Luca gave up all pretense of drawing to watch him, then cautiously reached out for his own glass.

  “It’s good,” Zac encouraged.

  “It’s just milk,” Luca said, eying it dubiously.

  “Magic milk,” Zac said. “Just taste it. What’s your favorite flavor?”

  He’d already read Luca’s file and knew of everything from his allergy to kiwi fruit, to his love of cheddar cheese.

  “Chocolate.”

  “Mine too.”

  He sucked up more milk, watching Luca take a sip through his straw. The little boy’s eyes lit up. He drank some more, letting go of the straw to peer into the glass again.

  “But there’s no chocolate.”

  “Not in the glass,” Zac said. “The magic’s in the straw.”

  Luca tried to look into the straw.

  “I can see it,” he said, his voice hushed.

  They drank their milk in companionable silence, and Zac took the opportunity to really look at the little boy. He was pale-cheeked but otherwise had his father’s complexion. Dark hair, big dark eyes, and a solemn expression. Zac wondered how long it would take to make him laugh.

  Luca went straight back to coloring as soon as his milk was finished.

  “Can I color too?”

  There was a pause as Luca sneaked another look at him. Zac knew the answer before he got it, not trying to hide his smile this time.

  “No.”

  “Maybe next time, hey?” He got to his feet and turned to Beckett, who motioned him out into the hallway.

  As he stepped through the door, a little voice piped up. “Thank you for the magic milk.”

  “You’re very welcome, Luca.”

  In the hallway, he found Beckett watching him, his gaze hopeful.

  “That went well.”

  “I take it first meetings don’t usually go smoothly?”

  “On Kyle’s initial visit, Luca had a full-on tantrum: screaming, kicking the floor. With Terry, it wasn’t much better. I think he likes you.”

  Zac was always one for speaking plainly where kids’ manners were concerned.

  “I suspect Luca’s behavior since I got here wasn’t much to do with me. And everything to do with you.”

  Beckett looked crestfallen. “Ah. I’m in the doghouse again, am I?” His phone buzzed once more, and he grimaced at Zac’s pointed look.

  Before he could say anything, Zac took pity on him. “It’s not easy parenting alone, especially with a sick kid and a demanding job. My role is to make your life easier. To maximize your quality time with your son and
make sure I give him the best of care in your stead.”

  Beckett’s surprise was obvious, and it quickly turned to hope. “That little performance in there hasn’t put you off?”

  “It’s too early to tell if it’s a personality clash. And it’s best not to overload Luca. If you’d like me to take the position, I’d suggest starting with mornings only and then on to full days. Once Luca’s comfortable having me around, I’ll move in.”

  Beckett considered that. “What kind of a time scale are we looking at?”

  “That depends on Luca. I’d suggest a week of half days, another of full, and see where we are then.”

  Some alphas pushed back when Zac took control, resisting the idea of an omega telling them what to do. Beckett wasn’t one of them. “Sounds sensible to me. I think I can keep work at bay for that long. As I mentioned before, I’ll need you Mondays to Thursdays, and Saturdays.”

  “You work Saturdays?”

  “We do some of our face-to-face meetings with clients then. Usually in the mornings.”

  “But you’re off Fridays?”

  “Oh, no. Luca’s grandmother takes him on Fridays. He goes to her house for the day.”

  “Every Friday?”

  “Almost. There might be one Friday every three months or so that I’ll need you to cover. I’ll give as much notice as I can.”

  “I can work with that. There is one thing I need to ask about.”

  “Go ahead,” Beckett said, looking more confident. It suited him better than the anxiety.

  “I’ve read Luca’s file, and I noticed that he’s a Type-S. How often does he shift?”

  The alpha hadn’t brought it up during the phone interview, which was a little unusual. With parents of a child who could shift, it was usually the first thing they mentioned.

  “Not often. It’s very infrequent, because of his illness. The last time was almost six months ago. Is that going to be a problem?”

  Beckett’s forehead creased in concern, and there was tension in the set of his shoulders.

  Zac smiled, trying to put him at ease again. “Not a problem. I’m Type-S too, still active.”

  The ability to shift grew dormant in most Type-S’s as they got older. Or, at least, that was the accepted view. There was another school of thought that said adults were simply better at repressing their natures than kids were. Zac was one of the few who decided never to grow up where his shifter animal was concerned.

  “You are? That’s great. I’m sold.”

  Admitting to being a nanny who was also an active shifter usually prompted concern, sometimes even fear, among parents. If anything, Beckett looked genuinely happy to hear it.

  The alpha held out a hand, and Zac was a little taken aback to realize he had the job. They shook on it, and he wasn’t surprised by Beckett’s firm, warm handshake.

  “I’ll start on Monday by joining you and Luca for breakfast.”

  “Monday,” Beckett agreed. “Thank you, Zac. You’re a lifesaver.”

  Chapter Six

  Beckett had planned to stay close by for Zac’s first morning with Luca. But on Sunday evening, he got a call from the clinic to attend a meeting the next day.

  “I’m sorry to dash off like this. If it wasn’t so important, I’d be staying right here…”

  Zac had arrived early again, bright-eyed and smiling. Between a cranky Luca and worrying about what the clinic was going to say, Beckett had been awake half the night. He knew the tiredness showed.

  “We’ll be fine, Beckett. It’s only a few hours, and I have your number and your emergency contacts. I’ll call if we need you.”

  Zac headed into the kitchen where Luca was sitting at the table, banging a cup against the tabletop.

  “Morning, Luca.”

  Beckett grimaced when Zac’s cheerful greeting was met with a glare as Luca knocked the plastic cup harder against the surface.

  Zac wasn’t fazed. “Are you hungry? I’m hungry. And I brought you something special for breakfast.”

  Beckett took two steps into the room, curious as to what Zac had up his sleeve. The omega stuck his hand into his bag, with Luca watching closely, and pulled out a carton of blueberries.

  “To go with our pancakes,” Zac explained, showing them to Luca. “How many pancakes can you eat, Luca?”

  “Lots,” Luca piped up, his eyes fixed on the blueberries. Zac had done his homework: they were Luca’s favorite.

  Beckett crossed the room and pressed a kiss to Luca’s forehead. “I’ll be back soon, kiddo. Be good for Zac.”

  “No!”

  Luca’s shout surprised them both, but Zac just smiled.

  “Enjoy your breakfast,” Beckett told him.

  “We’ll save you some,” Zac promised.

  With one last glance at Luca, who was frowning at Zac again, Beckett headed out to the garage.

  The first half of his drive to the clinic was taken up with worrying about Zac and Luca. The second half was spent dwelling on what exactly he was going to learn at this meeting. He hoped to hear that the embryo was safe and they were going to try again once Austin was ready. He suspected it wouldn’t be nearly so straightforward.

  The meeting room was empty when he was ushered inside. He took a seat and, a few minutes later, the door opened to reveal Sandra, his surrogacy lawyer. She pressed a hand to his shoulder as she joined him at the table.

  “Thanks for coming, Sandra.”

  “Of course. Meetings like this are exactly what I’m here for. Let’s get to the bottom of what happened.”

  Her reassuring tone eased some of his fears, until the door opened again. A steady stream of people piled inside, filling up the rest of the seats around the table. Beckett was pretty good at reading a room, so he knew the moment they sat down that it wasn’t good news. His heart sank as he focused his attention on Dr. Lawson who called the meeting to order.

  “I’d like to start by introducing everyone at the table, and then going through a chronological recounting of the events surrounding the implantation day. Any objections?”

  The room was silent.

  “Then let’s begin.”

  Beckett had a tablet and a pen, jotting down a few of the names of people he didn’t know. He underlined the clinic’s lawyer’s name twice. If they’d already got legal involved, then they were worried about consequences, about liability. Beckett didn’t care about any of that. He only wanted to know one thing—should he still have hope?

  As Dr. Lawson started going through the events that took place prior to Austin’s procedure, he interrupted.

  “Just answer me one question: do you still have the embryo?”

  A heavy silence fell across the room.

  “No. We do not.”

  At Dr. Lawson’s quiet words, Beckett’s world crashed down around him. He felt Sandra’s hand on his arm, heard voices speaking, but it was muffled and indistinct, like they were talking underwater.

  When he tuned back in, the doctor was going through the events of that day in monotonous detail. Beckett interjected again.

  “I want to know what happened. The short version.”

  “What we think happened,” Ms. Andrews, the clinic’s lawyer, was quick to say. “We’re still investigating.”

  “Just tell me.”

  Dr. Lawson cleared his throat.

  “Dr. Hains, who was supposed to be carrying out day procedures on the day in question, was absent due to illness. Dr. Roberts, a locum doctor who hadn’t worked at our clinic previously, covered her shift. There was a problem with the clinic’s IT system. As per protocol, the staff was using paper backups instead of electronic charts. Dr. Roberts was unfamiliar with the clinic’s procedures for confirming patient identities, and it seems a mistake may have been made.”

  “Define mistake,” Sandra said, her pen poised over her tablet.

  “There were two patients with similar names in adjacent rooms scheduled for different procedures under sedation. Austin was supposed to have you
r embryo implanted, and the other patient was due to undergo a different procedure. Dr. Roberts appears to have… confused the two.”

  Beckett took a moment to digest what he was being told.

  “Are you telling me you implanted my embryo into a stranger?”

  There was another heavy silence.

  “The embryo may have been implanted into another patient, yes,” Dr. Lawson said at length.

  “Have you contacted this patient?” Sandra asked, writing notes in neat print that appeared as typed text on her screen a moment later.

  “We now believe we’ve identified the patient involved, so we are attempting to do so. There are many layers of complexity involved in a situation such as this one…”

  Beckett didn’t care about all that. There was only one question that mattered to him.

  “Could it have worked? Could the implantation have been successful?”

  “We’re not at liberty to discuss the medical information of private citizens, Mr. Rayne,” Ms. Andrews said primly, as if Beckett should know better than to ask.

  Dr. Lawson held up a hand. “I believe I can answer that question without compromising anyone’s privacy, Ms. Andrews. Beckett, we estimate the chances of successful implantation to be approximately fifty percent.”

  “Dr. Lawson, I hardly think that’s helpful,” Ms. Andrews said. “The success or failure of the procedure is largely inconsequential.”

  Anger flared, and it was all Beckett could do to stay seated, his hands clenching into fists. “Not to me. And not to my son.”

  “This is a… delicate situation,” Dr. Lawson suggested.

  “This is a disaster of epic proportions,” Sandra corrected. “We need to be kept informed every step of the way. And we need to know how you intend to safeguard Mr. Rayne’s embryo if it has implanted successfully.”

  Beckett knew the response to that before Ms. Andrews even opened her mouth, but it still hurt to hear the reality of their situation.

  “The embryo ceased to belong to your client the moment it was implanted. If it had been implanted into a willing surrogate in possession of a signed contract, that would give some legal protection, but…”

  But it was a stranger. Their body: their choice what happened next.

  “At the very least, we expect you to make them fully aware of all the circumstances, including the condition of Mr. Rayne’s son.” Sandra folded her arms and glared around the table.