LoveHarley: Only half the time.
An agent approached the check-in counter by Vincent’s gate. He looked away from the conversation to watch as she keyed a few things into the computer at the desk. The information on the overhead screen updated—boarding was about to start. Flight staff had already arrived at the scene, and they filed in ones and twos through the doors at the gate and down the bridge. Less patient fliers began to crowd the cordoned-off area by the check-in counter.
xVerity: My plane is about to board. I’ll be skybound soon. Sorry I didn’t get to hang out with you guys more, but I’m looking forward to next time. Let’s try to coordinate our hotels so we’re all staying in the same place.
LoveHarley: Travel safe, xV. Tag all of us when you arrive back home, okay?
KnotMyProblem: You gonna work on getting into the mile-high club? ;) Or maybe you already claimed your membership on the way in. Fuck, I feel like I’ve still got so much to learn about our mysterious leader. You’re one hell of a guy, xV.
KnotMyProblem: Oh, and be safe and all that. Look at Harley, making me look bad. Don’t make the next Single Dad group event a funeral, okay?
Vincent smiled.
xVerity: Duly noted.
xVerity: Reminder: you guys are the best. I’ll see you in an hour or six.
Vincent returned his phone to his pocket before he could get sucked back into the conversation, then retrieved his wallet to have his driver’s license at the ready for the boarding agent. Tucked into the fold was a piece of paper, carefully creased. Vincent paused and ran his thumb over it, parting the corners to reveal the handwritten smiley face near its edge, then shook his head.
Back to Corvallis, back to real life.
At least, for now.
Soon enough he’d be on his way back to Aurora for good, and after that, who knew what would happen? The future was what he’d make of it. He’d proved that to himself last night.
The only one who could hold him back now was himself.
13
Mal
Mal’s on and off heats finally came to an end—after a long week spent mostly on his own, the stimulation period was over. Dr. Kanna had collected his ova and fertilized them with the donor sperm Mal had chosen after hours of scrutiny. Six days following fertilization, the two embryos that had developed were transferred. Logically, Mal knew that it was too early to tell if the embryos had taken or not, but it hadn’t stopped him from glowing for the last several weeks, certain that this time, he’d get good news.
The two-week wait was always the hardest part. Seated in the waiting room of Dr. Kanna’s office, Mal watched the time tick by. He’d already done this twice before, and he knew the routine. One of Dr. Kanna’s assistants had already performed a blood draw—now all he had to do was wait while the sample was analyzed. If pregnancy hormones were detected in the sample, then the IVF had worked, and he could expect to be a father in nine months’ time. If the tests came back negative…
Mal didn’t want to think about it.
There was no way that could happen, anyway. Today was his birthday, after all—the big five-oh. The universe owed him a gift.
Five minutes passed, then ten. At the fifteen-minute mark, Dr. Kanna opened the door leading to the back offices and smiled kindly at Mal. “Mr. Collins?”
Mal stood and came to join her at the door. “Hello, doctor. I hope you’re doing well.”
“I am. It’s nice to see you again.” Dr. Kanna gestured down the hallway. “Let’s go sit in my office. There’s something we need to discuss.”
That was new, and new was good. Mal perked up and followed her. By now, he knew the way to the small, inoffensive office at the back of the building. Its walls were painted an eggshell blue, and the trim matched the furniture—white, all of it. Dr. Kanna kept a succulent on her desk. Mal had no idea what kind, but its thick, green, symmetrical leaves were a pleasure to look at. He’d stared at them more than once while Dr. Kanna sat him down to deliver bad news and discuss his options.
How pretty would they look when he heard the news he’d been waiting for?
Dr. Kanna showed him to his chair, then went around the desk to sit on her own. There was a closed patient folder on her desk, labeled neatly with a white sticker on its tab that readCOLLINS, M.Mal looked at it once he was seated, then back at Dr. Kanna expectantly. Her short black hair was cut rigidly in a dynamic, trendy way that Mal thought suited the angles of her face, and her expression, although always friendly, seemed stern in ways it had never been before.
“We’ve had time to analyze the blood sample you provided,” Dr. Kanna said. She folded her hands upon the desk. “I’m sorry to say that the procedure didn’t take, Mr. Collins.”
The news hit Mal like rebar swung at his chest. His lungs tightened and his stomach clenched.
Maybe he hadn’t heard her correctly. It was his third treatment. Ithadto have worked.
“I’m sorry,” Mal said with a small, nervous laugh. “Can you repeat that? I didn’t catch it.”
