The Best Laid Plans

  It’s a foolproof strategy...until the emotional balance shifts.

  After yet another adoption falls through, Gabe is ready to give up, and Shahid isn’t far behind him. Apparently, being a gay couple—half of which is Muslim—is just one strike too many for the powers that be.

  When their friend Kendra offers to carry their baby for them, both men balk at first, but gradually warm to the idea. Especially Gabe, whose bisexuality is open to the chemistry among the three of them.

  The plan seems simple. Kendra and Gabe, foregoing the cold, impersonal IVF clinic, paperwork and red tape, will conceive the old-fashioned way. They’ll all share parenting responsibilities, and live happily baby after.

  But as the heat flares between Gabe and Kendra, Shahid’s long-suppressed insecurities bubble to the surface. Then some unexpected news catches the trio off guard and derails their plans—and now one heart could be left out in the cold.

  Warning: Authors subsist on the tears of readers. Please recycle your hankies by wringing out and reusing. We’d hate to be the cause of a worldwide shortage of Kleenex.

  The Best Laid Plans

  Lauren Gallagher

  Chapter One

  Kendra

  Gabe walked into the teachers’ lounge, and my heart dropped to my feet.

  I knew that look. Eyes down. Shoulders down. Moving at half the speed of everyone around us, even slower than the groggy high school kids shuffling down the hallway on the other side of the door. It took a lot to slow Gabe, and I hoped I was wrong about what had happened this time.

  When he was back in his classroom, he’d probably be able to fake it. He was good at that most of the time. Once he was in front of the kids, talking about atoms and electrons, he’d wake up and be “on”, but the minute he was alone, he’d deflate to, well, this. The man who’d managed to put himself together—shirt and tie, everything pressed and coordinated, short dark hair neatly arranged—and probably hoped no one noticed he’d nicked himself three times with his razor. Yeah, he was out of it.

  Please, please, let me be wrong…

  While he refilled his ever-present coffee cup—the one with the long-faded West Midlands High School logo on it—I joined him.

  “Hey,” I said.

  “Hey.” He didn’t even look at me as he stirred some sugar into his coffee.

  There was no point in asking if everything was okay. We both knew it wasn’t.

  “Rough night?” I asked cautiously.

  His hands stilled. Closing his eyes, he exhaled, and his shoulders sank even lower.

  I touched his arm. “What happened?”

  Gabe swallowed. Turning to me, he whispered, “The adoption fell through.” His tone dripping with bitterness, he added, “Again.”

  Though I’d fully expected it, my stomach flipped. “Jesus. I am so sorry.”

  He took the spoon out of his coffee and, as he wiped it off with a paper napkin, ground out, “Apparently the mother had eleventh-hour second thoughts about letting her son go to a Muslim father.”

  I scowled. “That’s what happened last time, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah. Probably the first time too, but no one ever told us exactly why she changed her mind.”

  “Can they do that? Reject you guys based on religion?”

  “The agency can’t, but the mother can pick and choose for any reason.” He ran a hand through his hair and laughed humorlessly. “It’s funny—we went into this expecting to get turned down left, right, and center because we’re gay. But apparently Shahid being Muslim is a bigger deal-breaker than we thought it would be.”

  “Except you two have known this mother for, what, two months now?”

  Gabe flinched, lips pulling tight, and I thought for a second he was going to break down. Instead, he swore and rolled his shoulders, which were visibly stiff. “Almost ten weeks. Hell, Shahid’s gone to some of her appointments with her. She even raved about how much she loved having a nurse go with her, because he knows what questions to ask, and he called out an OB who was blowing off her concerns.” He shook his head. “But now we’re back to square one.”

  I didn’t know what to say. Anything that came to mind sounded like the same empty platitudes he’d be hearing from everyone else who’d known about the arrangement. Which, unfortunately, was the entire faculty. Despite Gabe trying to keep it a closely guarded secret in case it fell through again, someone had overheard a conversation he’d had with the principal, and suddenly it was all over school.

  “I’m sorry,” was all I could manage. “You know I’m here if you need me.”

  “I know.” He smiled weakly. “Thanks. I really appreciate it.”

  “Any time.”

  He cleared his throat. “I should get to class.”

  “Yeah, me too.” But I didn’t move. “You know you can take a day off, right? They have subs for this very reason.”

  “I need to save my time off. In case—” His lips tightened, and he avoided my eyes. “In case an adoption does go through.”

  “But you can take parental leave for that, right?”

  “Yeah, but there’s the meetings and…” He sighed, shaking his head. “I’ve already burned half my PTO for this one, and look where it got us.” He waved his hand. “And anyway, Shahid’s off work today, and I think having me around only makes him feel worse.”

  I doubted that, but said nothing. Shahid might’ve felt guilty, but I couldn’t imagine any situation where these two would feel worse together than apart. They weren’t helpless without each other, and they weren’t codependent or anything like that, but they had each other’s backs like no other couple I knew.

  He screwed the lid onto his coffee cup. “Well. I guess there isn’t much I can do.” He gestured toward the door. “We really should get to class.”

  “We should.” I hugged him gently, and he returned the embrace, sighing heavily as he did. Still holding on, I whispered, “I wish there was something I could do.”

  “I know. And I appreciate it.” He let me go, and as he met my gaze, managed a faint smile.

  I returned the smile as best I could. Then we took our coffee and headed off to our respective classrooms, because what else could we do?

  * * * * *

  For the rest of the day, I couldn’t get Gabe and Shahid out of my mind. I’d known them since forever, and it broke my heart that they were struggling this hard to adopt a baby. They both desperately wanted children, but the deck had been stacked against them from the start. They’d even tried fostering for a little while, but gave up when someone threw a fit about Shahid “indoctrinating” the kids after a boy asked him some questions about Ramadan.

  After eleven years together, nine of them going through the motions of trying to start a family, they were starting over. Again. Sometimes it seemed like they hadn’t even left square one. They’d both known this would be an uphill battle, but I couldn’t help wondering if either of them had grasped just how taxing it would be. God only knew how their marriage had stayed so solid through the whole thing—that alone should’ve been enough to negate all the other reasons they kept getting rejected. So what if they were a same-sex mixed-raced mixed-religion couple—their marriage left no doubt in my mind that any child of theirs would grow up in a stable, loving environment. Had I ever been in a position to put a baby up for adoption, and saw those two as potential parents, I’d have thought I struck the damned jackpot.

  But nine years into this, they remained childless.

  It wasn’t fair. I couldn’t make sense of the fact that these two couldn’t have the family they desperately wanted,
and yet the asshole I’d caught cheating three years ago was already expecting number two with his new wife. He hadn’t even wanted kids, though apparently he was over the moon about having them with her.

  Gabe and Shahid had been my anchor during my divorce. They’d been friends with us as a couple for years, and immediately had my back when they found out he’d been sleeping his way through town for most of our marriage. To this day, all I had to do was mention Tim’s name, and Shahid would start foaming at the mouth and Gabe would start spitting nails. Shahid had even been so pissed off one night, he’d gotten drunk right along with me despite his religious avoidance of alcohol.

  I was over the divorce and my SOB ex-husband, but I couldn’t help getting pissed off that the universe had seen fit to give Tim a picture-perfect family while the two sweetest, gentlest men I knew were starting to give up hope. It just didn’t make sense.

  The day wore on, and so did the week. As time passed, though Gabe seemed to bounce back, that sadness still lingered in his gaze. The same thing had happened the last couple of times—he’d recover enough to carry on, but these “setbacks” as he called them were demoralizing. They snowballed. Every time an adoption fell through, he’d dust himself off and say the next one would work out, and he always sounded less certain than he had the time before.

  This time, he didn’t say it. Even as word got around the school, and the other teachers cautiously asked him what he and Shahid planned to do now, he didn’t force his usual optimism.

  “Our profile is still active with the agency,” I heard him say a dozen times. “We’ll see what happens.”

  What’ll happen, I thought bitterly, is the same thing that’s happened every time.

  It wasn’t fair, but it kept happening. Over and over and over again, it kept happening.

  I just wished I could help.

  On my way back from the teachers’ lounge for my third-period physics class, I stopped so quickly, two football players nearly mowed me down.

  “Sorry, Ms. Bailey!” one called over his shoulder as they hurried past me.

  I mumbled a “Don’t worry about it” that he most likely didn’t hear.

  What if I could help Gabe and Shahid?

  After all, as I explained to my biology students every semester, human reproduction required a male and a female. The parts lacking in men were parts that came standard in me.

  And science aside, we’d all been friends for a long time. They’d seen me through a terrible time in my life. What if I could help them through a difficult time in theirs?

  They’d be excellent fathers. I trusted them. Would they trust me enough to go through with something like this?

  I kept walking toward my classroom, but that thought wedged itself into my brain. I had no idea how in the world I could even bring it up, though. Or if it would make things weird between us if I suggested it.

  The door to Gabe’s classroom was open, and I paused outside it. He had his back to me, and was intently and animatedly explaining something to three students as he gestured at a series of molecules drawn on the whiteboard.

  I still wasn’t even sure if I wanted kids myself. Spending most of my waking hours with other people’s teenagers was enough to make me wonder. The very fact that Gabe still ached for kids despite working in a sea of adolescents spoke volumes about how dedicated he was to being a father. And for his part, Shahid spent long shifts doing physically demanding and mentally exhausting work, and yet he still wanted to come home to a house full of kids.

  What if I could give that to them?

  The bell was about to ring, so I continued toward my own classroom. I’d think about it. Sleep on it. And then maybe, if I didn’t talk myself out of it, figure out how to broach the subject with Gabe.

  * * * * *

  Two weeks after Gabe told me about the adoption falling through, we were jogging behind the cross-country team we coached after school. He was no longer dragging with the sluggishness that had made preparing a cup of coffee into a monstrous task, so that was encouraging.

  “How are you doing?” I asked.

  He glanced at me. He knew me well enough to know I wasn’t just making small talk. Facing front again, he said, “Better.”

  “Is Shahid holding up okay?”

  Gabe brushed some sweat off his forehead, mussing a few dark strands that were plastered to his skin. “He’s doing all right. Sometimes I envy him, actually.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “The same religion that keeps getting us rejected?” He laughed dryly. “Seems to be keeping him sane too. He prays on it, and even though it still hurts, he makes peace with things a lot faster than I do.”

  “Lucky guy.”

  “I know, right?” He sighed, and for a little while, we just jogged in step with each other, keeping an eye on the kids running ahead of us.

  As the trail wound along the school’s back fence, I said, “I’m curious about something.”

  “Shoot.”

  I hesitated. “Have you guys given any more thought to a surrogate?”

  “It’s way too medically taxing on a woman. We have enough saved we could pay for it, but all the hormones, and procedures she’d have to go through…” Gabe shook his head. “And IVF isn’t even that reliable. She could go through all that, and we could spend everything we’ve saved, and we all come out empty-handed. It’s just not worth it.”

  I opened my mouth to speak, but again hesitated. No, I didn’t quite have the guts to go there. It would be weird. I’d spent the last several days—not to mention nights—thinking about it, and I’d decided I was absolutely willing to go through with it, but I still didn’t quite know how to say it to—

  Up ahead, someone cried out in pain.

  “Shit,” Gabe muttered, and we both broke into a sprint. A short ways up, the boys’ team had stopped and were standing around another teammate, who was on the ground, clutching his ankle and grimacing.

  “Ow!” Aiden, one of the sophomores, groaned. “Ow, damn it!”

  Gabe and I crouched beside him, and Gabe asked, “What happened?”

  “I think he twisted it,” Dion said.

  “Yeah,” Keith said, gesturing at the girls who’d jogged ahead. “He was too busy checking out Madison.”

  Gabe and I both rolled our eyes.

  I stood. “You got this, Gabe?”

  He nodded.

  To the rest of the runners, I said, “Keep going. Your ankles are all fine, and you still have half a mile left.”

  They gave their downed teammate one last look and then started jogging again. I followed, but my mind stayed in that conversation I’d had with Gabe.

  It wasn’t the first time I’d considered throwing my idea out there. I’d tried to bring it up several times yesterday and today but kept choking. Maybe I needed to sit down with both of them at the same time.

  No. Definitely Gabe first. I had no idea how something like this would sit with Shahid, so it would be smarter to test the water with Gabe and let him talk to his husband.

  All I had to do was figure out how to bring it up.

  By the time practice was over, as Gabe helped Aiden ice his tender ankle, I still hadn’t come up with anything. It was that weird feeling of being caught between needing to say something so badly I was about to burst and being terrified to actually put that something into words. All the way from the locker rooms to the parking lot with the teams, I kept my mouth shut, in part because this wasn’t a conversation to have with students around, and in part because I was a fucking coward.

  In the parking lot, the kids either headed out in their own vehicles or waited on the sidewalk for their parents. Aiden was safely in his mom’s car with an icepack on his ankle, and one by one, parents arrived to pick up everyone else.

  A painted metal railing divided the sidewalk from the landscaping in fr
ont of the building. Gabe leaned against it, and I sat on it, staying close enough to the kids to keep an eye on them, but not enough that we had to listen to their conversations.

  “So, you and Shahid are doing better? All things considered?”

  “Like I said, he’s better than I am, that’s for sure.” Gabe paused, watching as two of the kids climbed into a car. “It’s just frustrating, you know?”

  “Yeah. I get that.”

  “We’ve got our fingers crossed, though.” He lifted his shoulder slightly and ran a hand through his damp hair. “Shahid’s praying. I’m praying. Don’t know what else we can do.”

  Oh come on, Kendra. Just say it already.

  I cleared my throat. “Um, I have…a thought.” Holding the rail loosely on either side of me, I drummed it with my nails. “If it’s completely crazy and offensive, then forget I ever said anything, okay?”

  Gabe turned his head and raised his eyebrows. “Well, you certainly have my curiosity.”

  My heart went crazy. No turning back now, right?

  I pulled in a breath, squaring my shoulders. “What if I carried a baby for you guys?”

  Gabe blinked. He turned completely now, facing me fully. “Come again?”

  “If I…” I swallowed. “If adoption doesn’t look like it’s going to work out, I could carry a baby. I do possess the requisite parts, after all.”

  He stared at me incredulously. “You’re serious.”

  I nodded.

  “I don’t even know what to say.”

  “If you want to say no, go ahead. No hard feelings. Obviously you’d need to talk to Shahid if—”

  “No, no, no.” He shook his head. “Kendra, I couldn’t put you through all that, though. Like I said, all the IVF crap is so invasive, and—”

  “It’s, um…” My cheeks burned, and I gulped. “It’s not the only way, you know.”

  Gabe stared at me for a moment as if he didn’t quite understand what I’d said, or hadn’t yet read between the lines. Then his eyebrows started climbing, and his lips parted. “Are you…are you suggesting—”