Page 8 of The Surrogate Omega, Part One

“If it wasn’t for the travel aspect and the nature of your job, would you definitely want to do it?”

This is a surprisingly easy question to answer. “Yes.”

“Then I think you need to speak with them. I understand your concerns, and they are valid, but this is something that you need to discuss with them, and the three of you need to make that decision together. Also, I know your circumstances are different, but there are laws protecting pregnant women at their employment and that require employers to make accommodations for them.”

I don’t say anything, but I seriously don’t think those laws apply to my job. Dad knows I work for the CIA, but I’m pretty sure he thinks I’m an analyst. He’s probably wondering why I need to go anywhere but is reluctant to ask.

“So you don’t think it’s irresponsible to want this?”

“No at all. But, Lake, what exactly do you want from this? You know that a surrogate parent doesn’t have any of the same genetics as the child, right?”

Where is he going with this? “I know. I don’t want my own child. I hope I can be part of the child’s life as another uncle, but that’s it. I’m honestly not sure why I want it so much. It just seems right.”

“Then talk to them. Give them the chance to make the decision and go from there. I, for one, think you can make it work and look forward to going through another pregnancy with one of my children. This one would be even more exciting because it wouldn’t be such a shock. At least we’ll know what to expect.”

That’s true. River acted like the guinea pig. River and I aren’t the only people with the new Omega gene. It seems to still be relatively rare, and so far, he’s the only pregnancy, but scientists are doing more research every day, and I know it’s not going to be long before male Omegas end up getting pregnant. With River, everything was trial and error, but with each one of us who chooses to have a child, it will be less and less speculative until it gets to the point where there is as much data on this as there is with female pregnancies.

“Ok, thanks, Dad. I will talk to them.”

“Good. And son, I know you say you don’t want children, and that’s perfectly ok, but I hope it’s not because you think you’d be a bad dad. Because you wouldn’t be. You’d be an excellent dad, Lake, if you ever decide to become one.”

I smile even though Dad can’t see me. It’s nice to hear, even if it’s not true. I know I’d be a terrible dad, but I’m ok with it. I know my limitations. Being a surrogate is enough.

I say goodbye to Dad after a few minutes and begin to pack while I organize my thoughts. The more I think about it, the more it feels right to at least have a discussion with Zoe and Avery. What’s the worst that could happen?

FOUR

LOGAN

It’s a relief when I can finally get away from the precinct. Most of the time, I love being a detective in the Missing Persons department. It can be awful, but it can also be extremely rewarding as well. But this last week has been kicking my ass. I’m ready to just say fuck it all and just bail, but then I remember how much was sacrificed so I could become a cop, and I force myself to sit the fuck down and do my job. I’d regret walking out within a day, anyway.

But still, I’m ready to go and not see the place for a solid twenty-four hours by the time I leave. I showered and changed at the precinct, so I jump right on the subway and head toward Ev’s place, sending him a quick text that I’m on my way.

When I open my texts, I see the last message from the girl I was seeing, Charlotte, and I roll my eyes. No wonder Ev hated her so much. Looking back at her messages, it’s clear it would’ve never worked out between us. Almost all of them are her complaining because I’m either late or had to reschedule or cancel a date. And sure, that’s probably awful, and I can completely understand how someone would have issues with that. But at the same time, the girl was absolutely ecstatic when she found out I was a detective and bragged to every fucking body. Clearly, she just wanted the title of cop’s girlfriend without having to deal with the fallout.

Just one more reason why dating sucks and hanging out with Ev is just so much easier. Ev’s always understanding when we have to change plans last minute, or even when I have to bail once we’re out. He’s always kind of just gone with the flow, and it’s made everything so much better. I know I can always count on him and his dad, Mr. C. I’d have never made it through the academy without them, and Mr. C let me crash with him when I was still a broke recruit and rookie, even when Ev was at college and not living with him.

I delete my message thread from Charlotte as I relax back in the seat, but, of course, I’m still on alert. I might come across as a chill and easygoing guy, but on the inside, I’m always ready. I’m not sure of the last time I truly relaxed.

I finally reach Ev’s stop and get out to walk the few blocks to his apartment. I had only been dating Charlotte for a few weeks, so it’s not exactly a surprise that I’m not devastated, but I don’t feel any kind of sadness. If anything, I’m just relieved. As sad as it may be, I’d much rather spend my night drinking with my best friend than going out with some random girl, even if I get to fuck her at the end of the night. It just hasn’t been holding the same appeal lately.

I also want to get a better feel on where Ev’s head is at when it comes to this Lake guy. I know the story, anyone who knew Eric Cirillo even a little bit did, but it seems after Lake and his twin brother started to show up in the news and all over the internet, Ev has become somewhat obsessed. I’m not sure if he has some sort of crush on the guy or if it’s strictly to do with his dad, but either way, there’s something else going on there, and it’s my job to look out for Ev and make sure he’s safe, regardless of how bizarre the situation may be.

I get to the building and press the button to be buzzed in. It’s actually fucking impressive Ev managed to snag such a swanky building, even if his apartment is small as shit. I keep trying to get him to move to Brooklyn with me, but he likes being in the city. I guess it’s convenient when I need a place to crash after a night of going out.

Ev buzzes me in, and I make my way to his small one-bedroom apartment.

“Hey, man,” he says as soon as he opens the door, and my chest gets fuzzy when his brown eyes light up when he sees me. I’m not exactly sure what that’s about, but the last few times I’ve seen Ev, I’ve had this weird feeling in my chest whenever he smiles at me.

Ev lets me in, and I immediately go into his small kitchen to raid his fridge. I’m fucking starving. He follows after me with a snort. He’s used to my antics by now. At 6’4”, I tower over Ev, even if he’s not a small man. But I know people always comment on how different we look when we hang, like it really matters that I’m six inches taller and 80 pounds heavier. Or that Ev is covered in tattoos and piercings, and I have one tattoo that’s easily covered and that’s it. Or that he has darker features than I do. What the fuck does that have to do with our friendship? It never bothered me that I was the big blond guy in the family pictures that towered over both Ev and his pops. The fact that they included me in their family and made me feel welcome was all that ever mattered to me. Mr. C’s house was the only place I ever felt safe until I managed to move out and get my own place. But I’ve had more than one girl complain about how strange our friendship is or how odd we look together. I even had a girl or two complain that we were too close, whatever that meant. Those relationships never lasted long. Bros before hos and all that.

“Sure, Lo, you can have something to eat. Help yourself,” Ev tells me sarcastically as he hops on the barstool and watches as I make myself a sandwich. I just grin at him.

“Sorry, I’m starving.” He waves me off. Ev might mess with me, but I know it never bothers him how much I eat or that I eat all of his food without asking. He doesn’t make a big deal about it, but he keeps food here he’d never eat in a million years, knowing it’s my favorite. It’s one of the things I love about him. It doesn’t matter how many years it’s been since I’ve been hungry or had to worry about my next meal. I’ll always be that kid scouring dumpsters, hoping for something halfway decent to eat on a Friday after school, knowing I probably wouldn’t have any other food till Monday when I came back. That Ev, and even his dad, always make sure I have enough food, even now, without ever making a big deal about it, means more to me than I’ll ever be able to express to either of them.

“So where do you want to go tonight?” Ev asks.

I shrug and shove a chip into my mouth. “I don’t care. You feel like dancing, hooking up, or just hanging out?”

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