The Long and Winding Road (The Seafare Chronicles 4)

“I’m terrible at home décor,” Creed said. “That much is evident. Color swatches? I don’t even know what those are. I shouldn’t be allowed to have opinions about redecorating. Or anything really.”

“I could come over and—”

“No,” Otter and I both blurted at the same time.

She looked at us over her shoulder.

“Um,” I said. “We couldn’t ask that of you.”

“Not in your delicate position,” Otter said.

“Delicate?” she asked evenly. “Huh. Delicate.”

“Why did you say that?” I hissed at Otter.

“

Oh no,” Creed groaned. “We’re all going to die.”

“Bear doesn’t know how to use the internet!” Otter said.

“Traitor,” I breathed.

“What, really?” Anna asked with a frown. “Jesus, Bear. Are you sure you’re in the right profession? JJ might be in your class one day, and I vouched for you to get that job. I don’t know how I feel about that. Also, Creed. Come here.”

“Save yourselves,” Creed muttered under his breath. “There’s no hope for me. While she’s feasting on my flesh, run.” He walked as if a man toward death.

Otter and I stared mournfully after him.

I thanked the lord that Creed was like his brother in that he had large amounts of muscle mass. I hoped it would be enough for Anna while we made our escape.

Anna did not, however, feast upon his flesh. Instead, she stood upon her tiptoes and kissed him sweetly on the lips. He sighed a little, shoulders relaxing, and like it was commonplace, his hand went to her stomach, rubbing along the curve of it. I thought maybe it was a diversionary tactic, and that in a moment, she’d rear up and unhinge her jaw before biting off Creed’s head.

Instead, she said, “Sorry,” as she pulled away. She was smiling up at him, and it was the same smile I remembered when I thought I’d loved her. “I’m being a jerk. I don’t mean it.”

“I know,” Creed said. “And I lied to you. I was texting Bear.”

“He said you were Spider-Man,” I answered dutifully. “Because of your superpowers. Also, I do know how to use the internet. I just don’t like looking up people selling breast milk on it.”

She arched an eyebrow at me. “And why are you looking up people selling breast milk?”

“Well, now when you put it like that, I… have no idea.”

“Sometimes he doesn’t know why he does the things he does,” Otter said, and they shared a weird secret smile, like they had an inside joke with each other. They were commiserating.

I didn’t know how I felt about that.

WE’D SAT down to eat before Anna asked us how the surrogacy search was going. I knew it was coming, because we’d told our family that we’d already started the process. The people at the Northwest Surrogacy Center couldn’t have been nicer to us. Every interaction we’d had so far had been pleasant and easy. Some dark, twisted part of me had prepared for some flack that two married men were wanting to conceive, but that hadn’t been the case. If anything, we were treated just like every other couple, and that was something I should have expected. I’d spent much of my life preparing for the other shoe to drop with good reason. It was hard for me to trust something out of my control, but Otter said I was getting better at it. What had started out as tenuous was slowly gathering strength, to the point of where I didn’t dread every email or phone call we received from the surrogacy center.

But still. “It’s, uh. Invasive? I mean, I knew it would be, but still. Invasive is a good word.”

Otter picked up the thread for me. “Very, very detailed background checks. And into everything. We’ve got nothing to worry about, but it’s still disconcerting.”

“It’s like you’re being judged,” I said, wiping sauce from my face. “At everything you do.”

“We are being judged,” Otter said. “Income, home life, extended family. Speaking of which, you’re going to get a phone call soon. The both of you.”

“And you better say nice things,” I warned Creed. “I’m serious. If you tell them anything about the things we used to do—”