Page 31 of Bred By the Minotaur
The temptation is strong. But wouldn’t it be painful, too, to sleep down the hall from this handsome minotaur, who’s so kind and sweet and is such a good father? I know I can’t have anything more with him, and in such close proximity, could I really stay away?
It would just be torture. So I shake my head and say, “I appreciate the offer, Hank, but I can’t. Have a good night.”
Walking out the door feels like turning my back on something wonderful—something too wonderful for me to have.
Hank stands on the porch, leaning against the doorframe with resigned acceptance on his face.
“Good night, Phoebe.”
Twelve
Phoebe
When I step inside Sandra’s house, I find her sitting on the couch with all my pillows and blankets neatly folded and arranged on the chair. The TV is on and her knitting is in her lap, but she looks half asleep.
“Where have you been?” she says, sitting up abruptly. “You were gone for a long time.”
“Sorry.” I sit down beside her, collapsing into the sinking cushions. “I didn’t mean to. I just... got sucked in.”
“By what? Did you go down to the park and end up playing on the merry-go-round?”
I drop my head in my hands. “No. Hank.”
“Hank?” Sandra puts an arm around my shoulders, squeezing me. “Tell me everything.”
So I do, from seeing the spare bedroom to the awkward conversation we had at the end of the night. Her brows draw further and further together as I talk.
“He has an extra room? And he offered it to you?” She cocks her head. “That’s not a bad idea, Feebs. I mean, you’re literally pregnant with his kid. Maybe it would be a good thing. You’d have your own space until your house is built, and the dad would be right there if anything comes up.”
I gape at her. “What? It would be idiotic of me to move in with him. We’re not dating, for starters. We barely know each other.”
Sandra waggles her eyebrows. “Really, though? You’ve been fucked senseless by him a few times, if I remember right.”
“That’s the problem!” I could just scream. “I want it to happen again! He’s hot, Sandra. He’s really, really hot. And sweet. And soft-spoken. And he loves Milo so, so much.” I try to steel my voice against cracking, but I can’t help it as I remember Hank carrying a sleeping Milo up the stairs. “But we can’t have a relationship.”
“Why not?” Sandra asks, genuinely perplexed.
“For starters, I’d be violating the contract. DreamTogether could not find out. I would lose this job.” Just the thought of it sends a tremor through me. “Besides, who would I be in that situation if I started dating Hank? I’m not some random lady off the street. I’m Milo’s mom, for fuck’s sake.”
“Are you, though?” she asks. “You’re an egg donor, really. You never met him, not since he was born.”
I guess she’s right. I’m only Milo’s biological mother. I didn’t partake at all in raising him.
“Maybe it’s not as complicated as you think,” Sandra says. “You guys don’t have to tell him the truth, not immediately. You’ll have a place to stay, and then when the house is done, you can just move out. It’s only temporary.”
“It could take ages,” I argue. “A lot could happen in that time if I’m living with him. The second I start to show, we’re going to have to explain everything. And then what? I can’t be a parental figure to that kid, Sandra. Or to this baby. I can’t have that kind of life.”
“I don’t understand why you think that.”
“I already have so much on my plate! I have my job, Sandra. I have DreamTogether. And I have?—”
I cut myself off.
I have you.
We both stare at each other as the invisible words still come out. I didn’t mean to say it.
“Oh.” With a sigh, Sandra picks herself up off the couch with some effort. “Well, next time, just send me a text message to tell me where you are.”
