Expecting You

by Claire Cullen

  “Is that fair?” Dr. Lawson asked faintly. Beckett felt a pang of guilt at the question.

  “Is any of this fair?” Sandra countered. “Remember, ladies and gentlemen, at the center of this catastrophic series of mistakes is a very sick child and his potential sibling.”

  They went back and forth like that for an hour, going through the minutiae of what happened on the day of implantation. Beckett tuned most of it out. The hows and whys didn’t matter to him. What was important was what happened next. Who was this person? Had the embryo implanted successfully? And what would they do if it had?

  It was a relief when the meeting ended. Sandra offered a few words of consolation and encouragement and rushed off to another appointment. Dr. Lawson hovered for a moment, looking like he wanted to say something, but the clinic’s lawyer cleared her throat loudly and gave him a pointed glare. With an apologetic grimace, he hurried away.

  Beckett walked out to the parking lot in a daze. He got into his car and sat there for a long moment, staring into the distance. His phone rang, and he fished it out of his pocket, answering it when he saw it was William.

  “They lost it,” he said in greeting.

  William sounded confused.

  “What, the contract? Trey told me they signed it this morning.”

  “Not the contract, the embryo. I’m just out of a meeting at the clinic.”

  “Shit, it didn’t take? I’m so sorry, Beckett.”

  A short huff of laughter escaped him at the absurdity of the situation. “No, they lost it.”

  “I don’t understand what that means. They… misplaced the embryo? Forgot where they put it?”

  If only it were that simple.

  “Not exactly. They put it in the wrong person. A complete stranger.”

  William was quiet for a long moment. “You’re not kidding, are you?”

  “Not in the slightest. Even if they do make contact, and he is pregnant, they say it’s his body, his baby.” Which it was, of course. It wasn’t this stranger’s fault the clinic had royally fucked up.

  “What are you going to do?”

  What could he do? It was out of his hands.

  “I’m going to go home and hug my son.”

  He opened the front door with trepidation. When he spotted a stray cushion on the floor in the hallway, he worried the animosity Luca had shown toward Zac had turned into outright war. He picked it up and stepped into the living room, pausing at the strange sight that greeted him. There were pillows piled up in strategic positions and blankets strung between them and the chairs. Beckett had never seen such an elaborate blanket fort before. He couldn’t help but admire the architecture, even if it was a little uneven.

  Even better than the sight of the blanket fort was the sound of giggling from within. He crouched down and peered under, finding Luca and Zac lying on their stomachs. They were thick as thieves, their heads bent together as they read a story.

  “Is there room for one more in there?”

  “Daddy!”

  Luca jumped up and ran toward him, his hand tangling in a blanket as he did. In one fell swoop, he’d pulled the whole thing down on top of them, blankets and pillows collapsing down around them. There was a moment of silence as he hurried over and yanked the blankets away. Beneath them were Luca and Zac, the two of them rolling around and laughing like it was the funniest thing. Beckett went to his knees and hugged his squirming, giggling baby boy.

  “I love you,” he murmured, trying to hold tight to that moment of happiness. “I love you.”

  Chapter Seven

  Zac reached the end of his first week as Luca’s nanny feeling like he’d made good progress. No was still a frequent answer to any and all questions, but no could mean a lot of things, and Zac was getting good at interpreting. From what little he’d seen of Beckett, he could tell the alpha was under a lot of pressure. He did what he could to help, covering both breakfast and lunch and making a start on dinner before he left for the day. No matter how busy he was, Beckett always made time to join them for meals. That was exactly what Luca needed: stability and face-to-face time with his dad.

  On Friday morning, he woke early, relaxing when he remembered he had no place to be. That lasted all of five minutes, his stomach suddenly reminding him of its presence. With a groan, he sat up, scrubbing a hand across his face. He wasn’t even due at work today, so why was his stomach acting up again? He sat on the side of the couch, waiting for it to pass, but it only got worse. With a sigh, he heaved himself to his feet and padded for the bathroom. Halfway there, his stomach lurched, and he sprinted the rest of the way, barely making it on time.

  He felt a lot better afterward, rinsing his mouth out and brushing his teeth. But when he stepped out of the bathroom, Harper was leaning against the wall.

  “Sorry,” Zac said. “All yours.”

  “Again?”

  “It’s nothing. Just nerves, like I said. I feel fine now.”

  Harper eyed him in disbelief but kept quiet.

  Zac was sitting in the kitchen, nibbling on a slice of toast, when Harper reappeared, reading from a piece of paper in his hand. He recognized it as the leaflet the nurse had given him when he left the clinic.

  “The main side effects of the Omegafree contraceptive implant are pain, stomach cramps, and nausea. Any pain should resolve within one week, any nausea within two.” Harper glanced up, eying him critically. “And you’re…?”

  “Almost five weeks,” he admitted quietly.

  “Face it, Zac. Something’s not right.”

  “Those things talk about averages. The average person isn’t nauseous beyond two weeks. I’m just an outlier, that’s all. No need to panic.”

  “I still think you should get checked out, duck.”

  Zac rolled his eyes at Harper’s pet name.

  “You and I both know I can’t afford the cost of an aftercare checkup. Aaron’s insurance ran out two weeks ago.”

  “So, what? You’ll just do nothing and hope it gets better?”

  “Exactly.”

  “What if something is wrong?”

  “It’s just a stomach upset, Harper. I’m fine, see? Eating and drinking as normal.”

  “You might want to lay off the coffee,” Harper suggested, snagging his cup, and taking a sip. “That can’t be helping your stomach right now.”

  “Sure thing, Mom.”

  At his glare, Harper put on his best imitation of Zac’s mother.

  “You know I only say these things because I care, Isaac. It’s a mother’s job to worry.”

  Zac laughed and shook his head. “We both know my mom wouldn’t be any help where this is concerned. ‘I told you to find a nice alpha and settle down, not stick evil chemicals in your body to pervert nature.’”

  “Your mom is such a stick in the mud,” Harper agreed. He drank the rest of Zac’s coffee in two gulps and snagged the second slice of his toast. “I’ve got to run, I’m on the early shift. Take it easy today, hey?”

  Zac waved him off, trying to hide his irritation. Harper’s heart was in the right place, and that counted for a lot.

  He made more toast, opted for tea instead of coffee, and then cleaned the kitchen. The least he could do until he was ready to move out was keep the place looking tidy. Next week, he’d be looking after Luca for full days and, after that, he’d be moving in full-time with the family.

  Luca was a little sweetheart, really. Sure, there were things that set him apart from other kids. He tired easily, for one, and Zac knew he’d have to keep a close eye on that. And he wasn’t a great eater. There’d been a prodigious amount of coaxing at every meal so far just to get enough food into him.

  Grabbing a piece of paper and a pen, he sketched out a meal plan and snacks, looking for ways he could incorporate more high-calorie foods. It wasn’t just about the food, though. There was a definite pattern to it—Luca ate more when Beckett was there. Not just sitting at the table, but actually present and engaged rather than busy on his
phone. He’d have to put some thought into how to tackle that. In his experience, parents didn’t take direct criticism well, even when it was coming from the right place.

  After lunch, he ran errands and bought some groceries, returning mid-afternoon. He sat down on the couch, just to get his breath back, and woke up to the front door closing.

  “Huh?”

  He pushed upright, muzzy-headed and confused, to find Harper standing in the doorway, watching him with bemusement.

  “Evening, sleepyhead. I thought you hated naps.”

  “I did. I do.” They always left him feeling like death warmed over, and this was no exception. And then his stomach turned, somersaulting viciously, and he was on his feet and running for the bathroom.

  When he stopped retching, Harper was crouched right next to him on the ground, handing him a damp washcloth and a glass of water.

  “Oh, duck. What are we going to do with you, huh?”

  “Trade me in for a newer model?” he joked.

  “Next Friday, ten a.m.”

  “Um, what?” He’d been joking about the trade-in.

  “It’s your appointment time at the free clinic in the community medical center.”

  “Harper…”

  “I made it for you this morning, on my way to work. You were lucky, they’d just had a cancellation.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “You’re not fine,” Harper said fiercely. “You’re my best friend, and I know these things.”

  He helped Zac up, putting an arm around his waist. “Are you done puking, or do we need to camp out here for a while?”

  “I’m done,” Zac promised.

  He felt tired and cranky, but at the back of his mind was a persistent, nagging worry. “What if they ask about the implant and how I got it?”

  “That’s the beauty of the community clinic. They don’t ask those sorts of questions. They care about your health, not your wallet.”

  Harper helped him curl up on the couch, grabbed a blanket, and sat down next to him. Zac huddled against his side, drawing as much comfort as he could from the other omega.

  “Zac, I need to tell you something.”

  There was a quaver in Harper’s voice that Zac didn’t like one bit.

  “You’re not dating the zoologist again, are you?” he teased, hoping to lighten the mood.

  “How did you know about that…? No, never mind, that’s not it. It’s Aaron. He called me this morning. Well, late last night for him. He says the clinic’s been trying to contact him. Well, you. At first, he thought it was just about arranging a checkup post-procedure, but he says they’ve been weirdly persistent. He’s listened to a few of the messages they’ve left. At first it was the medical staff, but the later messages are from someone at the clinic’s legal department. They don’t say much, only that it’s urgent that they speak with him.”

  Zac’s anxiety spiked. “Do you think they know about the fraud?”

  “Aaron can’t see how, but he’s wondering if something’s made them suspicious.”

  “What does he want me to do?”

  “Do? There’s nothing to do. It’s just like we talked about. We stay quiet, and it’ll all blow over. There’s no paper trail, nothing for anyone to follow, and why would they bother over something so small? Aaron isn’t disputing that the procedure happened, you’ve paid the co-pay, so as far as he’s concerned, everything is done and dusted. By the time he returns to the country, it’ll be long forgotten.”

  He relaxed at Harper’s calm assurances.

  “Are you sure Aaron’s okay with that?”

  “I’m sure. But duck, that’s partly why I made you the appointment. What if it’s not the fraud? What if something went wrong with the procedure, and that’s why they’re contacting you?”

  “The leaflet says complications are rare.”

  “Rare doesn’t mean they never happen.”

  “Sure, but it’s still more likely that we made an error in the paperwork and it’s raised a red flag somewhere, right?”

  Harper stroked a hand through his hair. “Yeah, you’re right. But I still want you to get checked out, okay? Promise me.”

  “If it’ll make you happy, then I’ll do it.”

  Truthfully, Zac was glad Harper had taken the initiative. He was starting to think his friend was right. That something really was wrong. Between that and the possibility that the clinic knew what he’d done, his life had gone from carefree to filled with worry all over again.

  Chapter Eight

  Beckett joined William for a face-to-face meeting with their newest clients on Saturday morning. He let William do most of the talking, only chiming in when he had something to add. The clients left smiling, excited about the project, though Beckett struggled to muster up much enthusiasm.

  “How about we grab another coffee?” William suggested, signaling to the waitress. “You don’t have to be back for Luca yet, do you?”

  “No, Zac’s there until two.”

  “And how is the new nanny working out?”

  “Better than I’d hoped.”

  That was an understatement. Zac was great. Timely, polite, involved without being intrusive, and he and Luca seemed to be building a genuine rapport. He could tell Luca was still a little wary, but so many nannies over such a short space of time would make anyone slow to grow attached.

  “That’s great. It must be a weight off your mind to know he’s in good hands.”

  “It definitely is.”

  “But…”

  “But nothing.”

  “Come on, Beckett. I know you’re pretending to be all calm and unflustered. I’m also sure that if it was me, I’d be ready to rant and shout about the unfairness of it all.”

  Beckett knew exactly what he was talking about.

  “It is unfair. Life’s unfair. That’s just how it is.”

  “I’m glad you can be so philosophical. Me, I’d be spending my evenings in the gym, taking out my frustrations on a punching bag.”

  “Luca doesn’t need me to be angry.”

  “He doesn’t need you moping and distracted, either. Have you been like that at the dinner table all week? Where is the guy who turns his phone off at mealtimes? I’ve got emails from you over breakfast, lunch, and dinner. And then, when you’re actually here with me to work, you spend the whole meeting looking like you might have left the stove on at home.”

  “It wasn’t that bad,” he grumbled.

  “I don’t think our clients noticed, but I certainly did. I need you at the top of your game when you’re here, Beckett. And Luca needs to know he’s got his dad’s attention at home. That embryo out there is a theoretical, at best. Luca is a living, breathing child who needs you right now.”

  “That baby is his best chance.”

  William sighed, and they lapsed into silence as the waitress returned with more coffee, waiting until she left before they spoke again.

  “What has the clinic said?”

  “Not much. They’re making efforts to contact the other patient, and they’ve now done so in writing. Though if they can’t get him by phone or by email, I’m not sure what good snail mail is going to do.”

  “You never know. People can be funny about ignoring the virtual, but when an actual piece of paper lands in their lap, they sit up and take notice.”

  “I hope you’re right, but I don’t trust the clinic to actually put proper effort into making this right.”

  William sat back in his chair, regarding him thoughtfully. “Okay, then don’t leave it up to them.”

  “Meaning what? Kick it up the chain? Complain to the administrator or the health department? All that’ll do is get the whole thing wrapped up in so much red tape that the embryo will be an adult before we ever get to the bottom of it.”

  That prompted a smile from William.

  “No, I wasn’t thinking about official channels. They don’t have a horse in this race. No one has real stakes in this except you. The rest of them—the clin
ic, the doctors—they’ve got liability insurance that’ll cover this. All they want to do is mitigate how much harm they cause, so they can get away with paying out less. No, you need someone in this for your sake, someone who isn’t bound by the red tape that’s holding everyone involved hostage right now.”

  “I’m guessing you aren’t talking about Sandra?”

  “She’s as hobbled as the rest of them. I was thinking more along the lines of a private investigator. Get someone on the case to track down your missing embryo’s recipient, find out if it’s growing inside them, and approach them privately with a deal they can’t refuse.”

  “Surrogacy itself is a minefield of red tape. I can’t just bribe someone into…”

  “No one said anything about bribery. There are ways and means to get around the restrictions on paying someone for something you need. Are you really going to let something like that stop you from saving your unborn child? From saving Luca’s life?”

  They both knew the answer.

  “No, but I don’t know the first thing about private detectives. Where would I find one who could handle something like this? It’s a little more specialized than the average cheating spouse.”

  William grinned. “You’re in luck—I know a guy. Brendan Fairchild. Used to be a cop, took a bullet to the hip, pensioned out in his early twenties, and turned to private investigating. He’s good, and he’s got the price tag to prove it.”

  “Money’s not the issue, you know that. But how well do you know him? I don’t want someone who’s going to approach this like a bull in a china shop. I need it handled with care. Discreetly.”

  “Then Brendan’s your guy. Why don’t you meet with him and see for yourself? I promise you won’t be disappointed.”

  “When did you ever need a private investigator?” Beckett couldn’t recall an event in William’s life that might have prompted a need for Brendan.

  “Right after college, just before we met. Remember I told you my cousin got into some trouble?”