Chapter Text
The conversation was not part of Adora’s plan—not for that morning, anyway. She’d wanted to do it somewhere more intimate. Private. Maybe even later that night, if they’d agreed to come over for dinner. But as she walked from her car to the cafe, Adora was given every sign that now was the moment. Every sign being, of course, that it seemed like every single baby she passed was staring at her expectantly.
The moment that Adora joined Glimmer and Bow at their table, tucked into a corner between a pillar and the window, she came right out with it.
“I think I want to have a baby,” she said as if she were commenting on the weather (which was much too hot to be sitting outside, truth be told, but Adora was grateful that her friends had managed to score a table under an umbrella).
Adora’s casual tone, however, did nothing to lighten the weight of her news. Bow, who had been taking a sip of water at precisely the wrong moment, choked into his glass and soaked the front of his crop top. Glimmer went slack-jawed and, while giving Bow a few solid thumps with her fist between his shoulder blades, could only reply, “What?”
“I said I think I want to have a baby,” Adora said again. Then she picked up her menu and began perusing it. “Do you guys know what you’re getting yet? I always get the cast-iron baked eggs, because, duh, they’re unbelievable. But should I—”
“Adora, stop talking,” Glimmer said. “Back up. Start again. You think you want to have a baby? Like, a real, actual, living human baby?”
“God, preferably,” Adora responded with a wince. “The alternative’s kind of dark, isn’t it?”
“I’m sorry.” Glimmer placed her hands on the table and leaned forward. “Am I missing something? Something between, Hello, and, I think I want to have a baby? Because I am not following.”
“I’ve gotta side with Glimmer on this one,” Bow said, a bit hoarsely, as he took a tentative second attempt at his water glass. He swallowed, then frowned. “Where did this come from?”
With a sigh, Adora put her menu back down. Scratching the back of her neck, she said, “See, I was hoping I could breeze past that part.”
“That was never in any world going to be possible, Adora,” Bow replied.
“A girl can dream.”
“So, like,” Glimmer said as she began fidgeting with her chin-length hair. She’d just had it done in a pink-and-purple ombre the day before. This was Adora’s first time seeing it—in person, at least, as Glimmer had spammed the group chat with before and after pics. Adora figured she would have spent the first five minutes of brunch complimenting Glimmer on it. But, in her haste, that was all out the window now. Obviously. “Are you serious? Like, you actually want to have a baby, you think?”
“Uh, yeah,” Adora said, turning her gaze to her fingers, which were covertly ripping each other’s cuticles to shreds under the table. “I do.”
“Aren’t we kind of young to be family planning right now?” Glimmer asked.
Bow cut in with a smirk. “We’re thirty. Isn’t this exactly the time people start doing that?”
Glimmer lightly batted his shoulder beside her with her left hand. “I guess what I mean is, isn’t this kind of sudden? Or have you been thinking about this for a while?”
Adora looked up at her friends. “It’s kind of been a while, honestly. Since. . . you know.”
Glimmer and Bow exchanged a significant look. They didn’t need to say anything for Adora to tell that they knew exactly to what she was referring.
“That was going to be my next question,” Bow said. “But I’ll bookmark that. So, a few years, then?”
“Yeah.” Adora nodded. “When it happened, it made me really look at how much harder it was going to be for me, you know, when and if I ever wanted to start a family. And at first I was like, psh, whatever, right? But it kind of stuck with me, and I’ve been thinking about it more and more often, especially this past year, for some reason. And now—” She shrugged. “I want to get going on it. And it seems like the perfect time, I think? I mean, work’s settled down a lot. And it might take a while to sort out, so I don’t want to start too late, before it would get too hard on me to be, you know, a single mom.”
“A mom,” Glimmer repeated. “Jesus. You’re serious about this.”
Adora cracked a smile. “Yeah. I really am.”
Glimmer mirrored the smile, albeit a bit more weakly. “But don’t you want to wait a little longer? I mean, who says you have to do this by yourself? What if you meet someone who would want to do this with you? Especially now! I bet there are literally, literally, hundreds of women in this city who wouldn’t hesitate to throw themselves at you.”
Adora rolled her eyes and opened her mouth to answer, but Bow got there first. “It sounds like Adora doesn’t want to wait to take that chance, though. Between finding someone, dating, getting serious, it could be a couple more years. And then they’d have to start the baby-making plans over from scratch.”
“Exactly,” Adora said, grinning at Bow gratefully. “I’m fine with doing this on my own. I want to. And if I meet someone, then they’ll have to be someone who fits into my family, and not the other way around.”
Glimmer heaved a great sigh, but her smile widened. “I’ve never been able to change your mind before, anyway, once you’ve made it. I don’t assume I’ll be able to do it now.”
“Thank you for your patience,” said a somewhat quavering, tenor voice. Their server, a slight, blond man with a notepad and pencil in hand, had arrived at their table. “Welcome to the Fright Zone Cafe, can I get you guys anything to drink to start?”
Glimmer and Bow ordered mimosas, but before Adora could finish reviewing the drinks menu, the waiter spoke again.
“Oh, my god!” he said, and Adora looked up to find that he’d covered his mouth with his hand. “Oh, my god, it’s you. You’re the lawyer that’s all over the internet right now! You did the—the case against that adoption agency, didn’t you? The one that wouldn’t let those gay guys adopt their foster kid?”
“Oh,” Adora said, feeling a blush creep across her face, bright and hot. “Yeah, that’s me. I was their lawyer.”
“Oh, my god,” he said again, and clasped his hands together in front of his chest. “Can I get a picture? Or—no, I’m sorry, that’s really unprofessional. I’m so sorry.”
“No, it’s okay!” Adora said, waving her hands. “I’ll take a picture with you. Do you want one of my friends to take it?”
The waiter’s face went red to the edges of his hairline. “No, no! I can just do a selfie if that’s okay.”
“Sure,” Adora said, getting to her feet as the man pulled his phone out of his apron. “What’s your name?”
“Kyle,” he squeaked. Then, he cleared his throat. “Sorry. I’m Kyle.”
“Adora,” she said, moving to put her arm around his shoulder. “Is this okay?”
“Yes!” Kyle said before holding his phone aloft and snapping a picture. As he stepped away, he added, “Thank you so much. My boyfriend is going to absolutely freak. He works here, but he’s not on shift right now. Called in, actually, I covered. I guess it doesn’t matter, heh. But thank you and, again, I’m so sorry for interrupting.”
“That’s okay,” Glimmer drawled, leaning her chin upon her hand. “You can just comp our drinks to make up for it.”
“Glimmer,” Adora scolded. Turning back to Kyle, she said, “That’s really not necessary.”
“No, I’d love to!” Kyle said. “Two mimosas and. . . ?”
“Three mimosas will be fine,” Adora said, sitting in her chair again.
“I’ll have them right out, and I’ll take your food order then. Thank you, thank you!”
As soon as Kyle had gone, Adora turned on Glimmer, who was wearing the epitome of a shit-eating grin. “Glimmer, you can’t do that every time!”
“Why not?” Glimmer replied, leaning back in her seat. “They’re always happy to do it. If someone is going to interrupt us every time we’re out in public now, we might as well get something out of it. Babe, back me up, here.”
Bow shook his head, smiling. “It does seem a little extortive. But I’m not one to turn down the fruits of Adora’s glory.”
Adora groaned, “It’ll be over in a week. Enjoy it while you can, I guess.”
“I don’t know, it’s been a month already,” Bow said. But he held his water glass up, and added, “Well, to Adora, her fifteen minutes of fame, and our future nibling.”
“Here, here,” Glimmer concurred, clinking her glass with Bow’s. “May they drive our dear Adora crazy with happiness and sleep deprivation.”
Adora laughed and raised her glass to meet theirs. “Thank you, that’s very encouraging.”
“Now,” Bow said, steepling his fingers and resting his jaw upon them. “Let’s talk names.”
---
The agency’s waiting room was clean, but that was about all that could be said for it. The chairs could definitely use some reupholstering, and the carpet was the same blue-speckled type that had obviously been installed twenty years ago when the building was constructed. Sandwiched between Glimmer and Bow, Adora reviewed pamphlets on the pros and cons of circumcision just for something to do.
Glimmer elbowed Adora before too long. “Is this really the best place available? I thought the firm had connections to some, you know, high-dollar places.”
“One,” Adora said, “we represent a couple of those places, so I can’t use them for conflict-of-interest reasons. Two, the really nice ones that we don’t represent are the religious ones, and for obvious reasons they’re not the biggest fan of me right now.”
“Right,” Bow said with a chuckle.
“So, here we are,” Adora said, turning back to her literature. Yeesh, she thought, as she hurriedly flipped past a diagram. She felt she’d never be versed enough in male anatomy to make a qualified decision on the matter. But she guessed she had a little less than a year to prepare, and that was assuming it all went as quickly as possible.
Adora’s hands stilled, her eyes staring unseeingly at a different, worse diagram. A year. This could really, truly happen within the year.
“It’ll be fine, Adora,” Bow said cheerfully. “This place isn’t bad at all. I’ve had plenty of clients use them, and they’re usually pretty satisfied.”
“Usually?” Glimmer asked.
Bow half-grimaced. “The case manager’s hard to get along with, apparently. But she does good work, I hear.” He patted Adora’s elbow. “Don’t worry about it. You’re going—What on earth are you reading?”
“Nothing!” Adora said, slapping the pamphlet closed between her hands.
The door by the front desk swung open, and a tall, dark woman stood at its threshold.
“Adora Stevenson?” she asked, her voice low and measured.
Adora stood, shoving the brochure into Bow’s hands. “That’s me.”
The woman nodded her head and beckoned down the hallway behind her. “This way, please.”
Adora followed, turning only once when Glimmer whispered, “Good luck,” to throw a thumbs up back at her. Once Adora passed the door, the woman closed it behind them and began to lead her way down the hall.
“My name is Shadow Weaver Toussaint,” the woman explained. “I am the case manager of this agency.”
“Nice to meet you,” Adora said, swallowing the lump of nerves crawling up her throat. “I’m Adora.”
“Yes, I know who you are,” Shadow Weaver said, turning the corner and entering an office at the back. As she waved her hand at a chair for Adora to take, she wound around a desk and sat behind it. “You are very well known right now, especially in our community.”
“Our community?” Adora asked, sitting.
“The adoption and assisted reproductive technology community.”
“Oh, yeah,” Adora said with a strangled chuckle. “That makes sense.”
Shadow Weaver pulled a file in front of her. Flipping through it, she said, “I understand that you are seeking either adoption or surrogacy services, is that correct?”
“Yes,” Adora said. “Whichever you recommend.”
“Are you unable to have children of your own?”
Adora had known it for years, of course, but it still felt like a punch to the gut every time. “Correct.”
“Would you be able to use your own eggs for in vitro?”
“No—” Adora cleared her throat. “No, those are gone.”
“And what are your financial resources like?” Shadow Weaver asked, pulling out a single sheet and reviewing it. Her eyes widened, only perceptible under Adora’s careful scrutiny. “I see. You’re quite comfortable, aren’t you?”
Adora scratched behind her ear and looked at the ceiling. “Yeah, my—my resources are fine. That’s not going to be an issue.”
Shadow Weaver replaced the sheet and turned to a new, blank page. In a tone that was maybe a bit friendlier than it had been previously, Shadow Weaver chatted as she took notes. “Now, of course, you will have to submit to a formal home study and a federal and state background check. But I see in your file here that you have a steady occupation and income, that you own your own home, wonderful references, and on and on. I don’t anticipate any problems with your being qualified to engage with our agency.”
“Oh!” Adora said, and the tension drained quickly from her shoulders. “Really? That’s great news!”
Shadow Weaver smiled indulgently as she swiveled in her chair to retrieve two binders from the shelves behind her. “Now, it is my opinion that surrogacy is the best option for you. It is more costly than a typical, private adoption, but I believe that will be no issue here. This gives you better control of everything, from conception to birth. It tends to be faster, as single parents can remain on the adoption waiting list for years. It is usually also low risk, comparatively.”
“Low risk?” Adora asked, cocking her head to the side.
Shadow Weaver placed the two binders in front of Adora as she continued. “In surrogacy, the biological donors sign waivers before the pregnancy is initiated. This results in a much lower chance of either backing out. And, if they do, you will be entitled to file a lawsuit for damages through the terms of the surrogacy contract. Typical adoptions, where the biological parents become pregnant before seeking the matching services of an adoption agency, are not so protected.” After a moment, Shadow Weaver narrowed her eyes. “I thought you were an adoption attorney yourself?”
“Oh, no,” Adora explained, staring at the binder’s fronts. “I do more of the human-rights violation stuff. My friend Bow—he’s out in the waiting room, actually—he’s the adoption attorney. My other friend out there, Glimmer, she does criminal defense. We’re all at the same firm, it’s pretty big. But—” She cut herself off, upon catching Shadow Weaver’s uninterested gaze. She smiled bashfully. “Uh. I guess it’s not important. Sorry. I ramble when I’m nervous.”
“No matter,” Shadow Weaver said. She placed her hand on the binder to Adora’s left. “This is the inventory of sperm donors. All are anonymous, so you will not see a name or a picture for any of them. Instead, you’ll find a one-sheet of basic biographical information, physical traits, social and medical histories, et cetera.” Shadow Weaver moved her hand to the thinner binder on Adora’s right. “This is the inventory of surrogates. You’ll see the same background study, but you’ll also be provided with a picture. Their names remain anonymous until the match has been completed.”
“There’s way less surrogates than sperm donors,” Adora remarked, taking the binders and hefting them between her hands. “Why?”
Shadow Weaver hummed. “Yes, well. I’m sure I don’t have to explain how much easier it is for sperm donors to lend themselves to the process than it is for surrogates. As a result, you get less of a turnout for the latter.”
Adora grimaced. “Gross. Say no more. Got it.”
Chuckling appreciatively from deep in her throat, Shadow Weaver leaned back in her chair, hands clasped in her lap. “Take them home with you, review them carefully, and let me know when you’ve made your decision.”
Adora hesitated. “How long can I take?”
“As long as you need,” Shadow Weaver replied. “Once you have decided, we’ll make an appointment for you to meet your matched surrogate. Then, we’ll go from there.”
“Thank you. Really.”
“Of course,” Shadow Weaver said, waving her hand dismissively. “Before you leave, though, let us review our engagement letter. Then we’ll take payment. Twenty-five percent down now, fifty percent after the pregnancy is confirmed, and the final twenty-five percent the week after your child is born.”
“My child,” Adora repeated softly, more to herself than to Shadow Weaver, as she hugged the binders to her chest.
Shadow Weaver smiled in return, though. “Indeed. Will you be paying by check or by charge?”
---
Adora spent most of the next few weeks poring over her binders, marking contenders with flags, writing notes on post-its, flipping through page after page of unidentified person after person. Glimmer and Bow helped, meaning that they were at Adora’s place almost nightly, or sitting with her in the firm’s conference room during breaks.
The sperm-donor binder, despite being much larger, was worked through really quite quickly. To echo Glimmer’s own, less-than-proper words, it should have come as less of a surprise to them the kind of men who would be willing to ejaculate into a cup for “charity.” As a result, many of the possibilities were rapidly eliminated. They were fortunate enough to find the donor who would ultimately become Adora’s final choice only a few days into their long-haul study session.
“Blonde hair, blue eyes,” Bow read as Adora wolfed down the sushi she’d ordered in between client meetings. “Five foot eleven, two hundred pounds, athletic slash muscular body type.”
Glimmer whistled from where she’d propped her feet up on the glass conference-room table. “Hello, beefcake.”
Bow rolled his eyes and continued, “Also achieved a graduate-level degree in legal studies.”
Mouth full of sashimi, Adora spluttered, “He’s a lawyer, too?”
Bow shrugged. “It doesn’t say. I guess he could’ve gotten a masters in legal library sciences, or something. But who knows, maybe.”
“Anything under medical history?” she asked.
“Personal history of mild to moderate insomnia,” Bow replied. “No known family history of cancer, diabetes, or anything like that. For all intents and purposes—” Bow grinned cheekily at Adora. “—a prime physical specimen.”
“Pfft,” Glimmer scoffed, popping a California roll into her mouth. “He sounds like the male Adora.”
“I’m not five-eleven. Or two hundred pounds,” Adora said simply.
“But you are God’s gift to female athleticism,” Glimmer replied. “So.”
“And his interests are as follows, and I quote,” Bow announced. “Hanging with friends, going to the gym, and riding his horse.”
Miniscule fragments of rice spewed from Glimmer’s pursed lips as she tried to laugh without choking.
“Excuse me,” Adora said, picking at her teeth with her fingernail. “I’m not as two-dimensional as that.”
Bow tipped his head to the side, his expression perhaps a little patronizing. “But tell me that, if you only had three spaces to fill with your interests, that wouldn’t be your top three.”
“And in that exact order,” Glimmer added after swallowing and taking a gulp of breath.
Adora pouted. “Shut up.”
The surrogate binder took much, much longer. Adora blamed it on the fact that each candidate came with her own picture. More than once, Glimmer or Bow had to talk Adora out of selecting a potential birth mother based on how kind her eyes were, or how genuine her smile was.
“Look at her information, Adora,” Glimmer snapped at her one night, prodding her finger at the page from her place in the corner of Adora’s sectional. Adora stood behind her, binder balanced on the couch’s spine. “Daily smoker. With a family history of cardiovascular disease. I know that they can’t estimate a person’s intelligence on these things but, if they could, I don’t think this girl would top the charts.”
“Look at her body language, though,” Adora said, pointing to the picture of the girl with dyed red hair, hands on her hips as she winked at the camera. “She seems fun and bubbly, doesn’t she? I wouldn’t mind my kid having a personality like that.”
Glimmer groaned. “If you want fun and bubbly, just ask Perfuma to do it! That way, you could also guarantee that your kids will never have the risk of a blocked artery in their life.”
At the crest of week two, Adora laid in her bed alone with the binder on her lap, flipping through it lazily as she tried to muster the will to sleep. Glimmer and Bow had gone back to their own place after work and were probably long unconscious. Adora yawned, nixed the candidate on the current page for being far too petite to reasonably ask her to carry the child of the sperm donor (to whom Glimmer had begun referring affectionately as “He Man”), and turned the page with the promise that this would be the last one before it was officially time for bed.
But suddenly, Adora was wide awake.
The woman in the picture was beautiful in a strange, otherworldly kind of way. Adora couldn’t pin exactly why at first as she examined the candidate’s features. She was tan, her face was freckled—which was, in Adora’s humble opinion, really, really cute. Her hair was dark and sort of wild, like she hadn’t bothered brushing it before the picture was taken. A strand crossed her forehead and over one of her eyes, and that’s when Adora figured it out. The woman had two different-colored eyes; one bright blue, the other a light brown that could’ve looked gold in the sun. Adora skimmed the candidate’s medical history, which confirmed complete heterochromia iridum (non-pathological). It also stated that she was allergic to dust mites. Adora fought a chuckle. What a lame allergy.
Five foot three. One hundred and twenty pounds. Athletic/lean build. Under education level: Attended some college, incomplete bachelor’s degree in communications. Her interests: Dancing. Kickboxing. Her cat.
Adora did actually chuckle at that. The woman in the picture, wearing a black, sleeveless crop top with high-waisted, ripped jeans and perfectly winged eyeliner—Adora could definitely believe her first two interests easily enough. But by the way she stood with her arms crossed, quite nearly scowling at the camera—it wasn’t so much that she had a cat that Adora couldn’t believe, but that she wasn’t too proud to name it as one of her interests.
She stared at the picture again, and continued doing so until she fell asleep, binder in her lap, lamp still on.
At work the next morning, Adora dumped the binder onto Glimmer’s desk, page open. “I found her. This is the one.”
Glimmer hummed noncommittally as she leaned over the book. With her mouth fixed in a flat line, she muttered, “She looks so grumpy.”
Bow, who was standing next to her chair separating their take-home files, glanced over Glimmer’s shoulder. “She’s pretty, though. Her eyes are super cool.”
“She doesn’t look like you, though,” Glimmer said, looking up at Adora. “Don’t you want your child to look like you? He Man sounds like you, but—”
“It doesn’t matter to me what my kid looks like,” Adora said, pulling the binder back to look at the woman’s picture once more. “If they’re lucky enough to look like her, though. . .”
As Adora trailed off, Bow and Glimmer exchanged worried glances.
“Uh, Adora,” Bow said tentatively. “You’re not. . . Uh. You don’t think that you’re. . .”
Adora looked up sharply. “That I’m what?”
“Thinking with your lady parts?” Glimmer offered.
Bow transferred all of his attention to the ceiling tiles as Adora gaped at them, blushing. “I am not!” she said, holding the binder to her chest protectively. “I don’t like her because she’s hot. She’s got no significant medical history, more education than most of the other candidates, an interesting personality—”
“But you agree?”
“Agree with what?” Adora groaned in exasperation.
Glimmer smiled evilly. “You do think she’s hot.”
---
Two Fridays later, Adora left work after lunch to travel back to the agency. Glimmer and Bow had offered to join her again, but Adora had declined. She felt, at least this time, she should go alone.
Adora was brought into Shadow Weaver’s office, where she handed the binders back with a gush of gratitude.
“I’m glad you were able to make your selection,” Shadow Weaver said, replacing the binders onto her bookshelf. “The donor’s specimen will be retrieved from the lab right before the fertilization procedure. The surrogate—” Shadow Weaver checked the analog clock on the wall above the door and frowned. “She’s late. But that is not out of the ordinary for her. She’ll be here soon.”
“Have you worked with her before?” Adora asked. Her heel bounced anxiously against Shadow Weaver’s carpet. “I mean, has she done this before?”
“No,” Shadow Weaver said. And that was all she said.
“Okay,” Adora said. Her calf was getting tired from the bouncing, but she couldn’t stop it if she tried. “Does she know what’s happening today? You know, that she’s been selected?”
“Yes,” Shadow Weaver replied. “I sent her some background information about you when I received your call last week. She should have had the opportunity to review it by now. If she didn’t find you favorable for any reason, she would have informed me of such. Otherwise, today is merely a formality so that you two can meet.”
Adora nodded, perhaps a bit more fervently than she would have normally. Her nerves were just absolutely shot. “I’m excited to meet her.”
“Don’t be,” said a voice from the door. It was kind of gravelly, exactly the kind of voice Adora would have expected if she had thought about it at all. Just as Adora began to twist in her chair, the other woman found hers—right next to Adora, within an arm’s length—and sat. “Sorry. My boss held me back late.”
Her hair was tied back, her ponytail sprouting thick sprigs every which direction. She wore black jeans with frayed cuffs and a red, off-the shoulder top tucked into them. As it had been in her picture, her eyeliner was immaculate. She leaned far back in her seat, arms crossed in front of her.
With barely a tip of her chin in Adora’s direction, the woman said, “I’m Catra.”
“Catra,” Adora repeated, rolling the name around in her mouth like a hard candy. She held out her hand. “Adora.”
The woman—Catra—smirked. “I figured,” she said, as she eyed Adora’s hand suspiciously. She did take it, though, and Adora noticed her long, sharp fingernails, painted with black polish. “Hey, Adora.”
“Hi,” Adora said, joy bubbling up inside of her despite her best efforts to keep it cool.
Glimmer was right. Catra was hot.
Not that that had anything to do with her decision-making process.
But still.
Shadow Weaver stood. “I need to fetch some paperwork. That will give you two the opportunity to talk in private.” Once she was out of the room, Catra sat up a little straighter.
“So,” Catra said, surveying Adora up and down. “What’s with the suit?”
Adora looked down at herself. “Oh, sorry. I just got off of work and came straight here without changing. I didn’t mean to overdress or anything.”
Catra shrugged. “Nah, it looks good.”
Heat crept across Adora’s face. “Thank you.”
“You’re a lawyer right? You did that thing against that bullshit adoption agency, didn’t you?”
“I did.”
“That’s cool.”
The heat kept moving, radiating to Adora’s ears and down her neck. “Thanks. I hoped it would be.”
Catra chuckled. “So, what, that inspired you to get on with the baby-making thing?”
“No,” Adora said, now feeling a little awkward with how much she was blushing. She prayed Catra didn’t notice (though she suspected by the twist of Catra’s mouth that that prayer might be fruitless). “It’s been a little while coming. Now that that case is done, though, the timing seemed right.”
“Right. No time like the present.”
“What about you? I mean, this is such a. . . a major thing to do for someone you don’t know. What made you decide to become a surrogate?”
At that, though, Catra’s smile dropped. She crossed her arms in front of herself again. “Does it matter?”
Adora blinked. “I guess not. I was just curious.” With a cringe, she added, “Did that get too personal? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you.”
Catra rolled her eyes a little. “You didn’t offend me. You’re fine.”
“Okay. Um.” Adora glanced around the room, as if a change of topic would materialize from somewhere. Her eyes landed on the surrogate-candidate binder. “So you have a cat?”
It was Catra’s turn to blink in surprise. “Uh, yeah.”
“What’s their name?”
“Melog.”
Adora snorted.
Catra narrowed her eyes. “And what’s so funny about that?”
“Nothing, nothing,” Adora said around her smile. “It’s just not a name I expected to hear.”
Catra’s face broke into a smirk again. “And what kind of name were you expecting?”
“I don’t know, a cat name.”
“And what qualifies as a cat name?”
“I don’t know! Like, Salem. Or Toby. Something like that.”
“She came with the name, okay. She wouldn’t answer to anything else.”
“Mhm,” Adora hummed. “Sure.”
“You have a horse, don’t you?” Catra asked. “I read that in your profile.”
“I do, yeah.”
“And their name?”
“Swift Wind.” Catra snorted that time, her laugh getting pitchy at its apex. Someone might have found it annoying. Adora would do anything to hear it again. “Oh, so now you’re getting all judgey about pet names?”
“When you say my cat’s name is dumb and then tell me you named your horse Swift Wind, like he’s some fairytale steed? Yeah, I’m gonna get a little judgey.”
Shadow Weaver reentered the room just then, and the change in Catra’s demeanor was palpable. Her expression fell straight back into looking bored, whereas she’d just been engaged and smiling. Shadow Weaver didn’t make any comment on it, however; she probably didn’t even notice. She just sat in her chair and pushed a stack of paper in front of Catra.
“This is the surrogacy contract. In essence, it states that you, Catra, will provide surrogacy services to Adora. Although by law you cannot be offered or accept direct compensation in exchange for signing a consent to relinquish any and all parental rights to the child once they are born, this contract states that you are entitled to reasonable pre-birth expenses.”
There it is, Adora thought. Why Catra sidestepped her question earlier. She would get money out of the whole deal. Adora would be paying the agency handsomely for their services, so she wondered how much of it Catra would receive. Probably most of it, judging by the state of the office. She’d deserve it, though, for what she was doing.
Ultimately, Adora decided that Catra was right. It didn’t matter to Adora why she was doing this. It just mattered that she was.
“There’s more to it than that, of course, but I am not an attorney and, therefore, cannot give you advice on this contract. If you sign it, you recognize that you had the opportunity to seek legal counsel, either did so or elected not to, and chose to proceed anyway.”
“I read it,” Catra said, leaning across Shadow Weaver’s desk to pluck a pen from a coffee mug. “I understand.”
“My friend Bow is an adoption attorney,” Adora interjected. Both Catra and Shadow Weaver looked at her with blank expressions. “I just mean. . . If there’s any doubt in your mind and you want to talk it over with someone. If you’re not comfortable with talking to someone I’m close with, I could get you a referral for—for someone else. I’d be happy to cover the consultation fee.”
Catra’s eyes softened an infinitesimal amount. “No, I don’t need that.” She flipped to the back page of the contract and signed her name in a tight, sharp script. She put the pen down and said, “Done. So when do I go get knocked up?”
Shadow Weaver visibly suppressed a sigh as she took the paperwork back and slid it into what Adora recognized as her file. “Your test results indicated that you would be ovulating next Thursday.”
“Bitchin’,” Catra said, getting to her feet and cracking her knuckles. “That’s my day off. Super looking forward to it.” She gave a little pseudo salute and said, “Ladies.”
Before Catra could turn and disappear, however, Adora said, “Wait! Can I—” She looked between Shadow Weaver and Catra, unsure from whom she needed permission. “Can I be there?”
Catra grimaced. Shadow Weaver cut in before she could say anything, though. “The fertilization procedure is not worth the trip. You’d be required to stay in the waiting room, and it would be completed very quickly.”
Adora deflated, but put on a brave face (more for herself than anyone else). “Okay, I understand.”
“You will be able to attend all the prenatal visits, however,” Shadow Weaver added.
Catra looked like she kind of wanted to grimace again. Instead, she nodded. “Sure. That’s fine.”
“Excellent,” Shadow Weaver said. “You may go.”
Catra nodded again, shot Adora a weird kind of smile, and had gone in the blink of an eye.
Adora wanted to yell after her. And, after a second, she did, Shadow Weaver and her disapproving frown be damned. “Thank you!”
A few seconds later, sounding as if she was already walking out the front door, Catra’s response came. “Whatever!”
Adora beamed.
Of course, as soon as she was alone in her car, she wept, forehead pressed against her steering wheel, her fists curled so tightly in her lap that her knuckles had gone white. After composing herself a bit, she typed into her phone’s calendar for the following Thursday: Catra’s appointment. She didn’t care if she wouldn’t be there in person. She was taking that day off anyway. But tonight, she would meet Bow and Glimmer for drinks.
And this time, they’d lift their drinks to Catra.