Vincent said nothing. His choice spoke his truth. Like always, he wanted to listen, to hear, and to understand. If he was to pass judgment, he’d do so only once he’d heard what Mal needed to say—a courtesy Mal had very rarely been granted in the past.
“In the last few years, after therapy, after introspection, and after being brutally honest with myself, I figured out that being comfortable, but unhappy, isn’t any way to live life.” Mal closed his eyes, the strings of his heart taut with anticipation of the words he had left to say. “That’s why I’ve decided that I can be a single dad—that I can do what I want in life on my own. I’m not happy being comfortable anymore. I’d rather live in uncertainty and hope for unimaginable happiness than settle for a life that doesn’t inspire me.”
All those years spent building himself back up from nothing weren’t wasted. At one point, suffering from the same darkness that had, and always would, occupy a space in his mind, he’d believed that they were, but time spent in growth was never time wasted. Mal’s path hadn’t mimicked those his peers had taken, but that didn’t make him wrong or detract from his worth. All it had done was made him other.
Like Vincent.
“I guess what I mean to say by all of this is that I’m done doing what doesn’t make me the happiest I can be.” Mal lifted his head from Vincent’s chest and opened his eyes. Vincent watched and listened, waiting for Mal to finish. “I don’t have time for people who make me feel inadequate, or who want to limit what I can or can’t do. That I’m here with you, on this couch, having this conversation…” Mal swallowed, his pulse spiking. “It means I love you, too, Vincent. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”
The winding, twisted path he’d followed hadn’t been without its obstacles, and he’d stumbled more than once, but in the end, the way forward had led him to Vincent. Better equipped for love than he’d ever been, strong of heart and at peace with who he was, the journey had been worth it.
“I love you,” Mal repeated, watching as the smile spreading across Vincent’s face reached his eyes. “Truly and honestly, without a doubt in my mind, Iloveyou.”
Love.
To be able to say it now, after so many years struggling on his own, released a burden from Mal’s chest he hadn’t been aware he was carrying. The detachment left him weightless, like his blood had been replaced with hydrogen. The confession swept through his muscles and made him weak with excitement. It brought his heart to skip a beat.
In this quiet moment, with the most wonderful man Mal had ever had the fortune to meet, he’d found happiness.
He loved, and received love in return.
There was no joy more simple, and none as exquisite. At last, after having resigned himself to a life alone, he’d found his place.
His family.
Vincent brushed a lock of hair behind Mal’s ear. The curls didn’t bother him anymore. Vincent’s smile lingered, softening his features and lighting him aglow. Then, after a long pause, Vincent said, “I think this means you need to come back and teach Nikki how to make a pizza the proper way, pronto.”
Mal snorted. He pushed himself up Vincent’s body and stole a kiss—short, but not entirely innocent. After their little slip at the door, Mal didn’t want to push his luck. They’d agreed to keep things chaste while the trial was underway, and now that Mal had met Nikki, doing so felt more important than ever. There was a face behind her name now—a little girl whose life depended on her father’s job. Mal would protect her just as he’d protect a child of his own.
“I’ll come back any day you want.” Mal grinned against Vincent’s lips. “But maybe we should focus on getting through the next few days first. We’re close. So close.”
“Very close.” Vincent’s hand roamed down Mal’s side, but his touch remained innocent. “In a week’s time, I’m going to get you pregnant. Can you believe it?”
“No. Not yet.” They shared another kiss, this one less innocent than before. “I don’t think I’ll ever believe it. Not fully. It feels like I’ve stepped out of a nightmare and into a dream.”
Vincent’s hand caressed the side of his thigh. “I wish I could touch you.”
“I wish you could, too,” Mal murmured. “Soon, baby.”
“Soon, Daddy,” Vincent whispered in return.
Love was patient. It would wait, too.
32
Vincent
Ovum retrieval was surgery. Over the years, Vincent had refined his process and become adept at locating and aspiring the matured follicles in both male and female patients, but no matter how sure his hand or how wide the breadth of his knowledge, surgery was distinctly different when he performed it on the man he loved.
Mal, calm despite the moment, lay upon the surgical table in the operating room. The anesthesiologist contracted by the CCO, Dr. Alana Fraser, spoke to him in a reassuring tone, conversational despite the scripted nature of her lines. Vincent had heard them all day as patients from group three came in for the procedure. “We’re going to put you out for your comfort, and also to help our superstar REI, Dr. Rhyne, make sure he can do the best work possible. You’ll be out for approximately forty-five minutes, but the procedure will only take fifteen.”
As she spoke, she prepared the sedation. From time to time, Vincent glanced over his shoulder to watch. He’d worked alongside Alana while retrieving the ova from the first two groups of patients, and he’d found her technique and bedside manner excellent. With Mal as her patient, he found himself doubting his recollection.
Was Mal okay? Was everything going according to plan?
Vincent barely trusted himself.
“It’s natural to feel a little groggy and disoriented after you wake up,” Alana said. Vincent had gone back to focusing on his own work, double-checking that he had the necessary catheters and needles for the surgery. The procedure was simple enough—using ultrasonic images to guide him, he’d locate the mature follicles in Mal’s ovaries and aspire the eggs within. Each one would be united with sperm from Mal’s choice of donor, and then checked for signs of fertilization the next morning. No incisions were made and no stitches were necessary. It was a surgery Vincent had performed countless times throughout his career—one he was now uncertain he could perform. Was his tray complete? Was heconfidenthe could read the ultrasound properly? Mal was counting on him to get this right.
