Page 30 of Bred By the Minotaur
I nod and agree, hoping to draw out my time with him just a little longer, knowing this shouldn’t happen again. This is innocent enough, playing video games together, even if I’m terrible at it. Hank tries to give me some tips, but it’s like trying to teach a dog to speak. Eventually I give up, tossing the controller onto the ottoman. Hank laughs.
“Just takes practice,” he says. “You’re welcome to come over and play with us anytime.”
We’re on dangerous ground already. This handsome guy, who makes an amazing dad, who knows how to have fun, who keeps his house tidy but not impeccable like Sandra... it would be too easy to trip over the line and get in too deep.
But I can’t have DreamTogether find out. And I don’t have room in my life for all of this, for the complicated tangle of feelings this promises to be. I already got over Hank Pittsfield once, five years ago, and I don’t want to have to get over him again when it doesn’t work out.
“Yeah...” I say, trailing off. “I don’t know if I should come over a second time.”
Hank’s face falls, and his shoulders draw together. “Oh. I see.” He looks down at me with big, brown eyes, and it would be delightfully simple to just drown in them. To drown in them, and then drown in him the way I did at DreamTogether.
“That’s too bad,” Hank finally says, glancing away with his ears pinned back. “Milo really liked you.”
“It’s just...” I take a deep breath. “I liked him, too. I liked him a lot. And, I, uh...” Fuck. Can I really say it? Should I say it? “And I really like you, too. Which is so, so complicated, Hank.”
I hope he can understand what I’m trying to get across, because I don’t have the words for it: that if I spend more time with him, I’m going to fall head over heels for him. And if I do that, that means falling for Milo, too, and then what?
I have too many things on my plate. I have work, and I have Sandra, and I have this baby growing inside me. Anonymity was crucial in the contract I signed to be a surrogate, and DreamTogether’s legal team is pretty clear about breaching that contract.
I can’t give Hank what he wants. What he deserves.
“Why?” he finally asks, turning to face me on the couch and pulling up one of his hooves to tuck it under him. “Why is it complicated?”
I rub the bridge of my nose because I don’t want to have to explain this to him.
“Because of DreamTogether. Because I’m pregnant with your kid. Because of who Milo is.” I cross my arms, wrapping them protectively around myself. “Because of who you are.”
Hank’s mouth opens like he’s going to say something, but the longer he looks at me, really looks at me, seeing inside me... it closes again, and he nods with a sharp exhale of breath.
“I understand.” I can tell that saying it is painful for him. “We’re a lot to take on.”
It’s not that I don’t want to try—it’s not that they’re too much. It’s that I’m not enough.
“I have so many responsibilities, Hank. I didn’t tell you before, but my sister needs a lot of help. Some days she’s better and can get around the house, some days she’s worse and can’t get out of bed at all. I have to work my job and make sure she has what she needs.” I dig my fingers into my jeans. “I couldn’t give you and Milo the attention you want.”
His eyebrows go up. “What do you do for work?”
“Graphic design, illustration. Mostly packaging.”
“Oh. That’s neat.” He frowns. “That does sound like a lot on your shoulders.”
I nod as the game music plays in the background. I want to say more, to explain myself, but I’m only going to drive the knife deeper.
“I should go home.” I get to my feet. “Sandra will wonder what’s happened to me. I was just going on a walk.”
Hank offers me a sad smile. “Sorry to derail your walk.”
I shake my head rapidly. “No, no. I had a great time. Milo is a really special kid.”
My kid. He’s half made of me. I carried him, I gave birth to him. I’m sure that’s not inconsequential to how I feel about him, how I want to hug him and put him to bed like Hank did, to play video games with him just to see him get excited about winning.
Hank nods in agreement. “He’s so much like me sometimes, and then not at all like me.” He looks forlorn for a moment. “Those are the parts that are like you, I think.”
I don’t realize I’ve been squeezing one of the throw pillows until the seam bites into my hand. I release it, setting it back down on the couch.
“Thank you again,” I say quickly, then head for the front door. Hank follows me, and I hate the kicked-puppy look on his face. “Hope I see you around soon.”
He just nods. “It was my pleasure. Really.” As I step out, he adds, “The room is still available for you, if you ever need it. And I wouldn’t... expect anything.”
