Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 47103 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47103 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
I hummed along on cue, a soft smile on my face. This was more like it. I could listen to Aaron chatter away about anything from store-bought salad dressing to the new cast of Love Island all day long…or whatever might chase away the gloomy silence.
“This is it.” I turned left at the entrance to Yearwood Kennel and parked in front of a two-story shingle house.
“Oh, it even looks adorable! Don’t worry, my love. I promise not to fall in love with five puppies and sneak them out of the kennel in my fabulous satchel. But I might be able to fit two in here.” Aaron quirked his lips as he pulled the strap across his chest and patted the leather man-bag.
“Not so fast. If we’re doing this, we’re getting one. Only one,” I huffed. “And we can’t pick him or her up today anyway. We need to buy a crate and food and—”
“I know, I know. This is just a visit. I’ll control myself. Let’s go!”
“Hang on.”
Aaron frowned. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, but…” I raked my teeth over my bottom lip thoughtfully and continued in a rush, hoping my timing wasn’t terrible. “I’ve been thinking a lot about this and…let’s revisit the family planning agency and interview surrogates.”
He widened his eyes, then blinked as if warding off tears. “You’re sure?”
“A hundred percent. Adopting would be nice, and we can ask them to reopen our application next year, but we need a break. The red tape and bureaucratic BS have been hellish and…I don’t know…” I shoved my hand through my hair, shrugging. “I think we should go to plan B.”
Aaron rolled his lips. “It’s expensive.”
“We can afford it.”
“Hmm.”
I cradled his chin, brushing my thumb along his smooth jaw. “Is that a yes or a no?”
He didn’t reply. Instead he catapulted from his seat into my arms and wrapped himself around me, showering my face with kisses. “Yes. Yes, Yes.”
I tickled his sides and pushed him away with a laugh. “Good. It might not be any easier than adopting, but Jay and Peter had a good experience. So did Trey and his husband and…let’s give it a shot.”
Aaron beamed at me. “Do you have any idea how much I love you?”
“I love you, too.” So fucking much. I would move mountains for this man. “We’re going to do all the things we said we would, Aar. Every damn thing on our list. We’ve been through tough times in the past, and we always get through it. This is no different, baby.”
He closed his eyes briefly and nodded. “I know. I hoped it would be easier, though.”
Me too.
We’d been through hell.
Over the past year and a half, we’d either been in adoption limbo or in the final process of completing the paper work, only to have the birth parents change their minds. That had happened not once but twice. Not kidding.
The first instance wasn’t shocking, really. The parents were an on-and-off couple with two other kids who’d called it quits for good and had decided it was best not to bring a third child into their dysfunctional relationship. Admirable. I still hadn’t been sold, but the social worker assigned to the case hadn’t seen any red flags and Aaron was excited, so we’d gone for it. After footing medical bills and random living expenses for two months, we’d learned that they’d reconciled and we were being taken to the cleaners. They’d had no intention of giving up their child. Of course not.
A few weeks later, there’d been a better fit through a private agency. Cassie, a young student at Georgetown had gotten pregnant, and a baby wasn’t on her agenda. She wanted to go to medical school. The baby’s bio dad was more of a fuck-buddy than a real boyfriend, and neither was interested in being a parent.
Cassie was smart and driven, confident and self-aware. She’d wanted to experience childbirth, but hadn’t wanted to be a mom. It was important to her to know that her baby would be with good people, and she’d been more than happy to let us be part of her journey. All in all, it had sounded too good to be true. I’d been on alert for hidden red flags, but there hadn’t been any obvious ones.
We’d gone to doctor appointments and Lamaze classes, and…it had felt real. This bright young woman had been carrying our child. Our son.
We’d launched into baby preparation mode. We’d painted the nursery, shopped for a crib, a rocking chair, clothes, diapers, car seats…plural. We’d had a list going of all the things we’d need, but we’d superstitiously refrained from purchasing anything. Thank God.
We’d talked about names and played games, like, “If we name the baby after your favorite rock star, what’s his name?” or “Funniest comedian, what’s his name?” or “Your tenth-grade algebra teacher, what’s his name?”