Alpha Dom and His Human Surrogate by Caroline Above Story

#Chapter 297 – Home with Baby

Ella

I hear Sinclair sigh heavily next to me, murmuring “Ella…”

But I ignore him, my eyes fasted on Hank, who blushes a deep red at the door and looks down at his shoes. I don’t say a word, though, or make this any easier on him. Instead, I wait patiently for an answer.

“Cora is,” he murmurs, awkward, “very special to me…

“I would imagine so,” I reply, my voice harder than I think I expected it to be. “She’s a very special person.”

Hank sighs and raises his eyes seriously to mine. I hold his gaze steadily.

“I’m very serious about Cora,” he says evenly. “I want to build a life with her. But we are moving…slowly. We both want to make sure that this is right.”

My heart warms when I hear him say that he wants to build a life with her, but still – what does that mean? I hold my baby closer to me and shift in my seat.

“And do you want to have childre-”

“Ella!” Sinclair bursts in, his voice angry, a hand on my arm.

“What!” I cry, turning to him with a frown. “It’s a legitimate question!”

“It’s none of your business!” He hisses back to me, his eyes wide and appalled.

–

my sister’s business is

My frown deepens as I open my mouth to object to my mate business, after all – but Hank clears his throat, bringing my attention back to him.

my

says, his eyes flicking between

at an end. I sigh,

finality, letting Sinclair know he’s free from my

as Hank leaves the room, my eyes on my

admonishing. I look into

they can’t

surprise as he processes this information. “And what’s Cora’s page about kids?” he asks. “Does

Roger?” I ask, still bristling that he didn’t

wanted.

considering it. “Actually, I don’t know…” He brings his eyes back to me, though. “Either way, that’s a conversation between Cora and Roger. Or Cora

“If they’re all too stupid enough to not talk to each other about it,

is as trouble does,” Sinclair sighs, leaning back on

his little head. “Don’t worry, baby,” I whisper to him. “I’ll teach you

to counter me.

time we finally get home, all three of us exhausted by the activities of the day. But Cora finally

when I see the variety of gift baskets and flowers waiting for us. “Oh,” I say, fascinated, moving forward to

tags on a few of them. “ They look to be presents from friends and well–wishers. See?” He points to one filled with hand–drawn cards set neatly

say, reaching for it, my eyes suddenly filled with sharp tears. “Oh, I miss them…” I bite my lip against the sudden rush of feelings, overwhelmed by all the love in the room when I’ve been so distracted – I haven’t even kept up with everyone as well as I should

the shoulders and moving the baby and I towards the stairs. “We’re way too tired for this – if you get into all these cards

as Sinclair guides me up the stairs, a steady hand on my

in the morning,” Sinclair says,

wisdom and allowing myself to be shepherded upstairs. When we reach the door to our bedroom, though, my eyes fill with tears again as

mate.

he murmurs, taking my chin between his fingers, exhausted but wanting to be there for me. “What is it this time? What’s

time, Dominic. Putting him to sleep in his own little bed. It’s just…” I shrug, not really knowing how to put all of

this. I know, he says, simply. And so I rest my body against him – against the warm, steady bulk of him, grateful – again –