Page 2 of Better Than Baby

“A hundred percent. Adopting would be nice, and we can ask them to reopen our application next year, but we need a break. The red tape and bureaucratic BS have been hellish and…I don’t know…” I shoved my hand through my hair, shrugging. “I think we should go to plan B.”

Aaron rolled his lips. “It’s expensive.”

“We can afford it.”

“Hmm.”

I cradled his chin, brushing my thumb along his smooth jaw. “Is that a yes or a no?”

He didn’t reply. Instead he catapulted from his seat into my arms and wrapped himself around me, showering my face with kisses. “Yes. Yes, Yes.”

I tickled his sides and pushed him away with a laugh. “Good. It might not be any easier than adopting, but Jay and Peter had a good experience. So did Trey and his husband and…let’s give it a shot.”

Aaron beamed at me. “Do you have any idea how much I love you?”

“I love you, too.” So fucking much. I would move mountains for this man. “We’re going to do all the things we said we would, Aar. Every damn thing on our list. We’ve been through tough times in the past, and we always get through it. This is no different, baby.”

He closed his eyes briefly and nodded. “I know. I hoped it would be easier, though.”

Me too.

We’d been through hell.

Over the past year and a half, we’d either been in adoption limbo or in the final process of completing the paper work, only to have the birth parents change their minds. That had happened not once but twice. Not kidding.

The first instance wasn’t shocking, really. The parents were an on-and-off couple with two other kids who’d called it quits for good and had decided it was best not to bring a third child into their dysfunctional relationship. Admirable. I still hadn’t been sold, but the social worker assigned to the case hadn’t seen any red flags and Aaron was excited, so we’d gone for it. After footing medical bills and random living expenses for two months, we’d learned that they’d reconciled and we were being taken to the cleaners. They’d had no intention of giving up their child. Of course not.

A few weeks later, there’d been a better fit through a private agency. Cassie, a young student at Georgetown had gotten pregnant, and a baby wasn’t on her agenda. She wanted to go to medical school. The baby’s bio dad was more of a fuck-buddy than a real boyfriend, and neither was interested in being a parent.

Cassie was smart and driven, confident and self-aware. She’d wanted to experience childbirth, but hadn’t wanted to be a mom. It was important to her to know that her baby would be with good people, and she’d been more than happy to let us be part of her journey. All in all, it had sounded too good to be true. I’d been on alert for hidden red flags, but there hadn’t been any obvious ones.

We’d gone to doctor appointments and Lamaze classes, and…it had felt real. This bright young woman had been carryingourchild. Our son.

We’d launched into baby preparation mode. We’d painted the nursery, shopped for a crib, a rocking chair, clothes, diapers, car seats…plural. We’d had a list going of all the things we’d need, but we’d superstitiously refrained from purchasing anything.Thank God.

We’d talked about names and played games, like, “If we name the baby after your favorite rock star, what’s his name?” or “Funniest comedian, what’s his name?” or “Your tenth-grade algebra teacher, what’s his name?”

One afternoon, Cassie had asked if we’d come up with a real option, and we must have both been caught off guard, because we’d answered…truthfully. “We like Xander.”

She’d smiled, agreed it was a good strong name, and that was that. Later we wondered if we’d jinxed ourselves.

In every other aspect, we’d left room for fallout, knowing without speaking the sentiment aloud that the adoption wasn’t a done deal until the final paper work was signed and we could bring our son home. It had been vital to shield ourselves from heartbreak if the worst happened.

And it had.

Mid-December, two months before the baby was due, the paternal grandparents petitioned for adoption. A week later, their son joined the fight and asked for custody of the child. We could have fought, but as a lawyer, I was all too aware that it would have been an expensive, emotional mess and the odds were never going to be in our favor.

Heartbroken didn’t begin to cover it. We were both devastated. Aaron, in particular, was inconsolable. I’d never seen him so upset, and I had no intention of going through it again. No fucking thank you.

We closed the door to the nursery that day, and neither of us had opened it since.

That was four months ago.

Cassie’s baby was six weeks old now. His due date was February fourteenth…a Valentine baby. We didn’t know if he’d been born that day, but he might as well have been and it was a cruel twist of fate for Aaron in particular. He loved all things having to do with Valentine’s Day, and he’d fallen in love with the idea that this baby would be born on a day dedicated to love. Sappy, maybe, but also sweet.

February fourteenth had been a very somber day for us this year.

Our friends had rallied around us, though. Curt and Jack had invited us over on Valentine’s Day, along with Jay and Peter and their two kids, and Paul and Seth, who’d made the trip from London. It had been a lovely night with great people, good food, and diverting conversation. We’d laughed and smiled as if everything had been okay. But on the drive home, Aaron had burst into tears.