“Is everything okay?” Maximoff asks with concern.
“Yes, yes.” She holds up her hands, then spins to me. “Farrow, I need to talk to you as well.” She smiles nervously at me, and that puts Maximoff on edge and lands me on a bigger question mark.
I can’t even crack a guess to what this could be about.
And then she ushers us into a smaller area of Superheroes & Scones for privacy. The daycare. I smile at Maximoff.
He’s eyeing my features.
I lift and lower brows. “Want to have a kid with me, wolf scout?”
He looks like he’s stopped breathing.
I let out a laugh. “Relax, relax.” I hook an arm around his waist. “I’m just fucking with you. We don’t have to talk about babies.”
He’s already admitted to wanting kids, but we haven’t had a deep discussion yet. When it comes to our future together, Maximoff has always been the one with training wheels. I’m ready to blow past every stage just to be all domestic and shit with him.
But I’m lucky he’s comfortable and ready to marry me in three months. I never want to push things too fast. Especially when he likes being in control and is uneasy with monumental change.
“Actually,” Janie says. “That’s what I wanted to speak with you both about. Babies.”
4
MAXIMOFF HALE
Babies.
I scan the room, hanging onto a billion other thoughts than what Jane just said. Bright colors splash all four walls, comic book paneled curtains concealing windows. Pint-sized tables sit on the hardwood, and toy boxes brim with action figures, stuffed Thor hammers, and miniature Captain America shields.
I have a lot of good memories here.
All the days I’d babysit my sisters, brother, and cousins. Janie would read books to our siblings. And I’d sneak out Batman Legos and we’d play for hours.
When my mom expanded this store, she didn’t just add the loft. She added a daycare. So yeah, I’m thinking about that.
My biceps are super-glued to my chest. Arms crossed.
Jane shifts her weight and smooths her blue tulle skirt. “Really, this is more than just about the general topic of babies.” She rambles. “It’s children—specifically, your future children. Between the two of you.”
My joints need oiled because honest to God, my neck creaks when I turn my head to Farrow.
He has a hand over his mouth. I can’t tell if he’s smiling or frowning. He assesses me from head to fucking toe.
“I just had a very giant heart attack,” I mutter under my breath to him.
He drops his hand. “You didn’t.”
“I did,” I say stubbornly.
He leans close and stares ahead at Jane as he whispers to me, “I’m the doctor.”
That was too damn hot, and I do everything in my power not to let him know that. And yeah, joking with Farrow is a great distraction to being serious. “I’m sorry. What’d you say? I think my heart attack busted out my eardrum.”
He laughs into an eye-roll, but the noise fades quickly as he focuses more on Jane.
Her blue eyes soften on us. “Are you okay to talk about babies now, Moffy? We can do this another day—”
“No,” I cut her off.
Someday in the future, I want to raise kids with Farrow, but we haven’t really delved into that topic yet. We’ve just grazed the surface of the iceberg while we’ve been concentrating on the now and the wedding.
On one hand, I almost want to thank Jane. Because there’s a massive part of me that’s stupidly excited to discuss kids. Especially without the pressure of having them soon.
I never dreamed of falling in love or being married. I didn’t let myself have that chance. But maybe I can dream of having kids with Farrow for a while.
It seems easy.
Simple.
And so damn happy.
“We can talk about kids,” I say with confidence.
Farrow looks me up and down in surprise. “Really?”
“Yeah. Really.” I’m interested in what Jane has to say. “It’s not like we’re having a kid tomorrow.”
His lip inches up. I smile off his smile, seeing that he’s happy about this. That feels good. He leans a shoulder on the wall and waves Jane on. Farrow is in the dark with me, and I’m aware that he’s way more at ease.
I haven’t uncrossed my arms yet. Just in case this takes a detour into doomsday territory. I want to be ready for anything.
Jane peels a frizzed piece of hair off her lips. She smiles, less apprehensive than when she first brought us into the daycare. “I love you both so terribly.”
My chest swells, but I’m hanging onto a thread of suspense. “Nous t’aimons aussi, Janie.” We love you too, Janie.
She steps closer. “As I’m positive you’re aware, you have a handful of options when it comes to starting a family, and I want to give you one more.”
I know what she’s about to say and offer because she’s my best friend, my other half, and we look at each other with reddening eyes. Emotion surging like a tidal wave come to carry us to shore—years and minutes and moments washing down my body. And something else.
Something that transcends time.
A love that understands without sound or reason.
And I feel one of the purest acts of love when Jane tells us, “I can carry your baby for you. I’d love to be your surrogate if you’d want that.”
I instantly hug Jane, my arms wrapping around her shoulders. Her arms glide around my waist. I want to thank her, just to be willing to do this for me, for us—it gets to me.
Words aren’t enough appreciation or gratitude to express all that balls up inside my body. I glance over at Farrow.
His chest rises and falls, overwhelmed, and his raw eyes hold exactly what I feel.
I pull back from Jane and wipe the silent tears that stream down her cheeks.
“And”—she rubs her splotchy face—“if you’re thinking of using Farrow’s sperm, I’d be more than happy to donate my eggs.” Quickly, she adds, “Obviously I’m not trying to be the mom in this situation. I’m just more of an aunt, but at the very least, you’d have full trust in the egg donor, and as cousins, I share some DNA with Moffy, so it’s almost as though you’re having a biological child together.”
My eyes are on Farrow. Because he has his fingers threaded through his bleach-white hair, stunned. He moves off the wall, and I step back from Jane.
He hugs her, and very deeply, he says, “Thank you.”
She sniffs back more tears and squeezes him tightly. I smile, and it’s hard to think there was a time where I worried they wouldn’t get along.
After they pull apart, I ask, “Does Thatcher know?”
“Oui.” She nods. “He’s more than okay with this, if it’s what you two choose.” She throws up her hands to me. “There’s absolutely no rush. You can take years to decide, and you can always say no. I just wanted to extend the offer before you get married.” She smiles at Farrow. “And just so you know, this announcement isn’t your birthday gift.”
He lets out a deep laugh. “Hate to break it to you, Cobalt, but what you just gave me can’t be topped.”
Tears well with her brightening smile. She brushes her fingers under her long lashes. “I’m glad you think so.”
I hug Janie again and whisper, thank you. About a billion times, and then she leaves the daycare. With a soft glance, Farrow and I acknowledge that we want privacy for a few more minutes, maybe an hour or more—so we end up sitting on these miniature plastic chairs.
Farrow picks up a Batman action figure, his inked fingers shifting with precision and consideration over the plastic joints and cape. “I’m surprised your dad let little kids play with DC toys.”
“Begrudgingly. He always told my mom that they were doing a disservice to future generations by spoiling them with crap.”
Farrow smiles. “Sounds like your dad.” His brown eyes flit up to me. “What do you think, wolf scout?”<
br />
I rest my forearms on my thighs, the tiniest chair uncomfortable under my ass, but I couldn’t be more comfortable in this room with Farrow. A man I trust and love. “I want to have kids with you down the line, but I haven’t thought much about how we’re having them. Until now.” I rake a hand through my thick hair. “Have you thought about it?”
“How I’m going to have kids?” he repeats.
“Yeah, even before me. When you were younger, did you have an idea of what you wanted to do?”
“Not a big one.” Farrow places the toy Batman down. “I didn’t dwell on that shit. I knew it’d be dependent on my husband.”
I feel an uncontrollable smile grow on my face. That husband is going to be me. I look to the left so he’s not seeing the brunt-force of any lovesick emotion. But when I glance back, he’s smiling too knowingly. Like I just jerked off to his photos in a scrapbook with hearts drawn around his face.
“Need a private moment?” he teases.
“Away from you? Always. Give me three millenniums.” I wait for him to add his technicality about me not living that long, but he’s just grinning. I gesture to him. “You’re finally conceding and realizing immortality could potentially exist, and that I’m immortal.” Triumphantly, I lean back on the tiny chair. And then I almost tip backwards. “Jesus.” I catch myself and bow forwards.
Farrow laughs hard.
My neck heats, and I flip him off with two fingers. His laugh is just a know-it-all smile now. And his eyes brush over my eyes with this quiet affection that tunnels into me.
“You want to adopt?” he asks gently.
“Maybe.” I run my thumb over my tensed knuckles. “There are a lot of kids who need parents and good homes, and I wouldn’t want to shut the door on that option. Unless you’d rather just go the surrogacy route.” I soak up Farrow’s features.
His natural brown roots growing in, his strong jawline, and his beautiful, earth-shattering cheek-to-cheek smile that some little kid should have one day.
I lick my dry lips, trying to find the words. “How selfish is it that I want to see you in our kids?”
“You’re very, very human.”
“Humans are selfish,” I tell him.
His lip quirks. “Yeah, we are.” His fingers skate through his hair. “Look, I haven’t obsessed over who I want as a surrogate or egg donor before, but I have thought about adoption versus surrogacy—and I want the selfish, biological thing. I’ve dreamed about it, and if press ever asks me, I’m going to be extremely unapologetic about that.”
I nod a couple times, understanding. But I say, “I haven’t decided if I’d want to use my sperm.”
“I figured.”
My brows knot. “You figured?”
He rolls his eyes and gives me a look. “I know you. You’re moral and good, and with addiction in your family history, I figured that you’d take time to weigh everything. You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t overthink this shit, even the sheer existence of our kids.”
He’s right, but I’m attached to his use of “our kids”—and Jesus, I’m trying not to grin like a fucking fool. “I’m not sure I can decide right now.” It’s a big deal, and it seems so abrupt to close the door on a biological kid just because addiction runs in my family. I wouldn’t even be alive, if my parents kept that door glued shut. Still, I have to ask Farrow, just to be sure. “But if I choose to never use my sperm, would you be alright with that?”
He touches his obsidian spear earring, which he wore the night of the fire. Not lost. “I’ll be honest, I want to see you in a kid the same way you want to see me. But I’m okay with that changing. Just like I’m okay with adopting too, as long as we have at least one biological kid in the future.”
I smile. “I can get behind that.”
“How do you feel about Jane’s offer?” Farrow asks, sweeping me and gauging my reaction.
“There’s a lot to consider.” I stare at the Batman action figure. “I don’t care about the incest rumors.” I look right at him. “I don’t care if Jane carrying our baby or using her egg stokes that bullshit. Public perception isn’t dictating my fucking life.”
His pride for me just bathes my whole being. My eyes burn, and I blink back emotion. He motions me on with two fingers. “Keep going.”
“You.”
He leans back easily without tipping the chair. “I don’t have family who’d do this for me. And it’s a common thing, family members donating eggs: a sister helping a sister, a cousin helping a cousin. I like knowing there’s a lot of love in this process, as fucking cheesy as that sounds.”
I nod, because I like that too. And I think about something. “If she’s pregnant with our child, I wouldn’t want that to impede her life and her ability to have her own babies. But I’m famous—we’re famous.” I gesture to his chest. “And trust does play a factor in choosing surrogates and egg donors.”
Farrow nods.
“Would you take her up on the offer?” I ask him outright.
He nods more. “Yeah, I would.”
“Both?”
“Yeah, but like you, I also don’t want this to fuck with her life plans.” Farrow pries his earpiece out of his ear and splays the cord over his shoulder. “Basically, we have choices that are waiting around in the future.”
The door feels wide open to multiple options, and I think we’re both more comfortable not making a hard and fast decision right now.
5
FARROW KEENE
After trekking shin-deep in briar and being stung twice by yellow jackets, I’m thankful I’ve never been on the 24/7 detail of a Meadows. Though, it’d make more sense for me to be here as Sulli’s bodyguard while I’m also on-site as a doctor (in the case of a climbing emergency). Being her bodyguard means it’d free-up Banks to protect Maximoff.
But no, some other prick is watching my fiancé right now.
“Once you’re called in as a doctor, you’re only a doctor,” my father told me. He’s the one who created that needless fucking rule, barring me from multitasking.
He wishes the white coat is the only thing I wear, and he’s all too eager and quick to strip me of my radio and gun.
As soon as Sulli and her dad are on the ground, I sling my med bag on my shoulder, and I’m out. I can tell Ryke Meadows is peeved that I’m being a standoffish asshole. I could’ve at least hiked back to the parking lot with them, but the truth is, I don’t know who’s protecting Maximoff.
Akara has been rotating temps every couple of hours. And Maximoff is always too good at convincing just about everyone that he’s fine and capable of being his own bodyguard. Lucky for him, he has me.
And I’m not letting him go through shit alone.
I fit on a motorcycle helmet and climb on my Yamaha, the one I bought with Maximoff. The night of the fire, we parked the bike on the street.
I ride out to the Philly Aquatic Center.
Despite the stings and scratches, I enjoy hiking and the outdoors. But Maximoff loves that shit even more than me, so to not have him there just made me miss him for six-plus hours.
I manage to evade most paparazzi back in Philly, and once I park, I tuck my helmet under my arm and saunter casually into the aquatic center, chewing a piece of gum.
Fuck, the air is humid and sticky in here—but I’ll take it. Because the entire place smells like pool and orange peels. Chlorine and citrus.
It’s become my favorite scent.
Young kids dive for rings in the four-foot end. Whistle around his neck, Maximoff wades in water and helps a girl who struggles to dip under the surface.
I smile, and then my boots slow on the wet tile.
What the fuck? I pop a bubble in my mouth before biting down hard. The dishwater-blond bodyguard is standing next to a bin of water wings and pool floaties. He looks around my age, my height.
Not strange.
A wolf tattoo covers his right bicep, and he has a dermal piercing on his cheekbone and wears Doc Martens and a Metallica
muscle shirt.
Also, not that strange.
But I’ve never met him. Definitely wasn’t the one to help train him, and in the amount of time I’ve been looking at this fucker, his eyeballs haven’t swept anything other than Maximoff.
He’s new.
He’s green.
I can’t tell if I’m being a territorial asshole and this dermal-pierced guy thinks he’s doing his job or if he’s actually checking out my fiancé.
I fit in my earpiece with my free hand and near the temp. Gossiping parents pretend to watch their kids from a row of bleachers, and as I cross in front of them, their attention plasters to me.
Some women slyly snap photos beneath their purses, and I don’t give a shit. Maximoff doesn’t care about money-shots or fan pics, so they’re not breaking the NDAs they signed.
I stop next to this dermal-pierced guy, and he hasn’t acknowledged my existence yet. My narrowed gaze shifts from him to Maximoff, who’s too busy with his actual job to notice the temp.
“What’s your name?” I ask him, my rough voice deeper and coarser.
His brows bounce, then he tips his head slightly to me. “Owen Erickson.” He extends his hand.
I shake, my grip tighter than usual.
He finally plants his fucking eyes on me. “Farrow, right?”
I raise my brows at Owen. “Yeah, and I don’t know what you’ve learned yet, but you need to be watching the entrances, exits, and the parents. Not just the client.” I nail a threat into him, and I’m used to temps cowering.
He hardly bats an eye.
Shit, not flinching at intimidation makes him a better bodyguard. But I still can’t gauge his intentions.
“I was doing all of that too. Maybe you just didn’t see me,” Owen says and digs in his pocket. “You’re relieving me?”
“Yeah.” I’ve been glancing between him and the parents, who’ve been known to snap photos of Maximoff in his tight Speedo while he’s teaching.
He nods. “Sweet. See you around, Farrow.” He smiles, one that borderlines a come-on. His eyes flit towards my mouth for a split-second before he leaves for the exit.
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