A Baby Maybe

by Genna Donaghy

  "Is it everything that you dreamed it would be?"

  Again, Wyatt's gaze flickered to Grayson. "And more," Wyatt said, and added, half-jokingly, "I'd trade a lot more than living in a luxurious Ranch to have a chance at this."

  "You are the furthest along by two days. Chances are, you might be the first to give birth in over fifteen years. The first to start a new generation of children. How does it feel to be a pioneer?"

  "A pioneer?" he repeated, briefly imagining Grayson with a floppy hat and a gold-digging pick-axe. Then he shook his head. "I just got lucky that my procedure took effect a fraction faster than everybody else."

  "Are you worried about what's to come?"

  Wyatt thought for a moment. "So many people keep asking me that question, I'm starting to wonder if I really should be worried. But on the whole, no. I know I'm in good hands with the medical professionals here." Again, his eyes swept past the camera and the producers to land on Grayson.

  "I'm sure you are. And we'll be watching your progress with baited breath. Thank you for your time, Wyatt," the interviewer said, and Wyatt breathed out a sigh of relief, knowing he was almost done.

  Sure enough, the unblinking gaze of the camera turned off and the interviewer reached across to shake hands with Wyatt. His clasped fingers over Wyatt's was not as firm as he was expecting. It was almost as if the man was being careful with him. As if Wyatt was a glass figurine ready to shatter into a thousand pieces. "It truly has been an honor to meet you," he said, holding Wyatt's eyes. The gaze was too intense to be comfortable.

  "Thank you." I guess. Wyatt got up with a nod and made room for the next mother in line.

  The interviewer would ask many of the same questions, and it would be edited for individual flare on the back-end. These would be packaged and sent out to tonight's evening news.

  Of course, knowledge of the Ranch had already leaked, but tonight was the official premier to the entire nation. All four City-States. Anytime he thought too much about it, Wyatt sort of felt like throwing up all over again.

  Carefully crossing past camera wires, light stands, and people with clipboards, Wyatt zeroed on Grayson. "How did I do?"

  Grayson gave a teasing grin and wagged his hand back and forth in an 'eh' answer.

  "Ass," Wyatt said, grinning.

  Grayson dropped his hand and his smile widened. "Seriously, you did great. I'm sure they're going to be focusing on you because you're the furthest along."

  "The First Mother," Wyatt muttered, rolling his eyes. He had heard that phrase tossed back and forth from the producers.

  "Well, that and you have the pregnancy glow about you."

  Wyatt tilted his head and looked down at himself. "Do I?"

  Grayson grinned, and, taking Wyatt's elbow, guided him out. "You do indeed. Let me show you how much I like it."

  Outside the conference room. They were used for film they were using for filming, Wyatt found Tyler waiting for him.

  One look at his friends face, and Wyatt knew that something had happened. "What?" He asked. "What's happened?"

  Tyler's face was still for moment, then split into a grin. "It came back positive."

  "Positive," it took a moment for Wyatt's brain to catch up. But there was only one positive that mattered in the ranch. "You're pregnant!" He crowed.

  Tyler nodded. "Strike that stepping out of Grayson's grip, Wyatt threw his arms around his friend. "Congratulations!"

  "I just found out," Tyler babbled. My doctor just told me and my first ultrasound came back positive. I get to stay."

  "You get to be a mother," why corrected.

  And he stepped back from his friend and thought he caught a glimpse of what Grayson was talking about. Tyler seemed to grow glow from the inside out, from happiness and joy.

  "I get to be a brother," he repeated softly as if Tessa get out for himself.

  "Congratulations," Grayson said warmly. "Your doctor is Dr. Stross, right? You could it be in better hands.

  "Thank you," Tyler said.

  This was the first time Grayson and Tyler had talked one-on-one as far as Wyatt knew. Grace Wyatt stepped back and watched Tyler and Grayson talk for a few moments, feeling his own happiness bird bright in his chest and bird wave the last of the nervousness left over from the interview. His best friend, and his lover got along.

  Under his hand, the little growing fetus inside of him gave a nudge.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Grayson's breath burned hot on Wyatt's shoulder, moving up to Wyatt's neck to suck a mark on the base of his spine.

  Wyatt groaned. On his hands and knees, he bowed his head. "Harder," he gasped.

  Grayson's deepened his thrusts, hitting his sweet spot, pausing on the upthrust to grind into him.

  Sparks light behind Wyatt's eyes. His cock bobbed, untouched but heavy with want. It's so good, but he didn't want to come just yet.

  "Yeah, like that... Give it to me," he demanded, knowing by now that Grayson liked to be bossed around a little in bed. That was good because Wyatt liked to do the bossing. He tightened his inner muscles, just to prove the point.

  He heard Grayson give a little gasp, his thrusts going juttery and out of rhythm. Yes, that was what Wyatt wanted. He wanted Grayson wild, wanted him to lose the veneer of polite professionalism and just pound him already.

  "That's it," Wyatt gasped, over the sound of skin on skin. His tongue felt loose in his mouth, and he wasn't registering the words as they came out.

  "Are you imagining filling me up, Gray? Gonna knock me up?"

  "Yes," The hand over his belly pressed hard. It was a confession.

  "Fuck me. Put a baby in me—"

  "Wyatt." It was half a groan, half a plea. Grayson tensed behind him. He was close. They both were. Wyatt tightened his inner muscles.

  Wyatt gasped. "Grayson, are you gonna—"

  "Gonna come inside you bare. Make you feel it." Grayson's hand moved from Wyatt's belly to his cock, jerking him hard, thumb sliding to press over his head.

  Wyatt buried his face in his own arms to keep down a wail. He didn't want the whole Ranch to hear him even if Grayson made it difficult—pounding his ass hard, giving him no mercy, no room to breathe.

  Breeding me, he thought in rising ecstasy.

  He came, spilling and shuddering into Grayson's hand. Grayson followed soon after, one hand like a vice on Wyatt's hip.

  He would have another bruise there, but the only one who would ever know about it was the man fucking him stupid. That suited Wyatt just fine.

  After, they rested there, Grayson propped against Wyatt against the exam table. It wasn't the most professional of places to do this, but Grayson had sent the nurses and medical assistants on their lunch break. The offices and hallways outside were quiet.

  "Well," Wyatt said, rolling to the side as Grayson's cock came free. "I give that medical exam a ten out of a ten." He had a hard time laying on his stomach, with the baby pushing into every organ.

  Grayson murmured something Wyatt couldn't catch, hand reaching back to push a piece of hair away from Wyatt's forehead.

  "Do you really imagine impregnating me?" Wyatt asked, with a grin.

  Grayson didn't look away. "Does that disturb you?"

  "No. Did I look disturbed? It's hot. Besides," he added, "If you're a little weird, then I am too."

  Wyatt kissed him and smiled into it as Grayson kissed him back.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Wyatt's ultrasounds were scheduled twice a week. They had become so routine, he found himself spacing out and simply watching the monitor which was filled with the visual representation of his baby. They were using old technology because so much had been lost to the world with the Flu. The image was so grainy and odd-shaped, Wyatt couldn't say for sure what he was supposed to be looking at. But he could identify the flutter of the baby's heart, and that was always calming.

  Suddenly, the technician set the probe down and reached across Wyatt to flick off the monitor.

 
"I'll be right back," the technician said, rising. There were lines of tension around his eyes.

  Wyatt struggled to sit up, which was becoming a chore nowadays. His stomach wasn't as large as he'd seen in pregnant women in the old films, but the extra weight did shift his balance. "What? Wait! What is it?"

  But the technician was already out the door.

  Confused, Wyatt shot a swift glance at the ultrasound screen, now dark. He hadn't seen anything bad. But unless his baby was growing two heads, there was no way he could tell for sure.

  A feeling of cold swept through him. What if his baby was sick?

  Wyatt pressed at the top of the bump, wishing that the little life inside would stir under his fingertips. Nothing happened. The baby was being a contrary little pill and staying still. Probably sleeping. That was a good sign, right?

  The technician had promised only a short break, but it was going on twenty minutes before he returned with Grayson in tow. By that time, Wyatt had nearly chewed his nails to the quick.

  "Grayson?" Wyatt warbled, hands clenching. "What's going on?"

  "It's okay. He just needed a second opinion. Lie back down now and lift up your shirt. There we go."

  Grayson's competence was always soothing. Wyatt did what he was told, and only winced little when the cold gel was reapplied. This time, when the probe was pressed against his belly, he took a hard look at the monitor.

  He wasn't the only one.

  After a minute, Grayson let out a long breath, his shoulders slumping. It wasn't a look of relief, only resignation. He nodded to the technician. "Can you give us a moment?"

  Now Wyatt was irritated. He pushed away the probe and pulled his shirt down. "What the hell is going on? Is there something wrong with the baby?"

  "No." Grayson took a deep breath. "No. She is perfectly healthy and growing well."

  "Then what—" Wyatt stopped. "She? She's a... a girl?"

  It never even occurred to him that it was possible. Shock warred with relief. His baby, his girl was healthy.

  A girl.

  But why the long faces?

  Grayson's hand closed over Wyatt's. His voice took on that too-calm tone that always freaked Wyatt out because it meant there was bad news coming. "Every man who fell sick with the Flu was carrying a female fetus. That's the link, Wyatt. I—I'm sorry."

  Wyatt stared at him. "What? All of them? But... Why didn't you tell us before?"

  "Because it wasn't something that we could control." Grayson shook his head, looking so, so sad. "We intentionally didn't select for gender in the first wave of implantations—we'd hoped to establish a baseline for carrying the species on in the normal fashion." He looked down. "But after what's happened, every new pregnancy will be carrying a male fetus. It..." He swallowed. "Wyatt, it's best if we try again."

  Wyatt yanked his hand from Grayson's grip. "You just said the fetus was healthy."

  "She is now, but this is how the men contracted the Flu. Wyatt, no one has survived—"

  "Don't give me that!" he snapped, frustrated. No, he was outraged. "No one has attempted to make a man pregnant before. No one else has gotten this far—"

  "Wyatt," Grayson said softly. "It's my child, too. And as much as I don't want to lose her... I don't want to lose you even more."

  In other circumstances, that would have warmed Wyatt's heart. Now, he stared at Grayson, feeling his jaw firm. "No."

  "Wyatt—"

  "NO! I'm carrying on." He put his hand protectively over his stomach.

  "She will be born into a world she was not meant to be in. The Flu still lives in all of us. It lives in the God-damned air. We learned that with Chance the other's deaths. Even if our baby makes it to term, she'll be doomed as soon as she takes her first breath." Grayson's face twisted in grief. "I'm sorry."

  "But she's made it this far," Wyatt insisted. "That has to mean something. Maybe she is immune."

  "Immune, when no one else is?" Grayson shook his head. "You're in shock, Wyatt. Think about this logically—"

  No, I've never thought so clearly. "You just want the safe option," Wyatt accused.

  "I don't want to see my daughter die, just like I had to watch my mother, and my aunt, and all my sisters—I—I can't take—" Grayson stopped, his face a mask of pain.

  Wyatt almost reached out to him, but he couldn't afford to be swayed by Grayson's grief. The life of their daughter depended on it. "You just told me the ultrasound shows she's healthy. So am I, Grayson. I feel fine. As long as that remains the same, I'm willing to move forward."

  "It doesn't work that way. The moment you catch the Flu, there's no going back."

  "I know," Wyatt said calmly.

  Something dark passed over Grayson's face. Old pain that Wyatt had seen in the faces of men who had lost their entire families. "Why are you doing this? Is it because you won't the the First Mother anymore?"

  Wyatt recoiled. It felt like he had been slapped. "Oh, fuck off!" he snapped. Not his wittiest comeback ever, but he didn't care. Ignoring the goopy gel on his belly, he pulled his shirt down and sat up, swinging his legs off the bed.

  "Wyatt." Grayson ran a hand back through his hair. He looked frustrated and regretful, like he'd known what he'd said was over the line. But since Wyatt wasn't hearing an apology, he didn't care. "Wyatt don't act like this... Where are you going? Come back here," he said as Wyatt headed for the door. "We're not done."

  "Yes, we are." The medical door didn't exactly slam, but Wyatt gave it his best shot anyway.

  Grayson didn't try to stop him.

  The full impact of didn't hit Wyatt until he was safely in his room, the door locked with the bolt, and the chain engaged.

  Pressing the back of his hand against his mouth to shut out the rising horror, Wyatt curled forward. Pure, visceral fear rose up in a wave and crested. Fear for himself. For his baby. His little girl born into a world that would kill her.

  No, it wouldn't come to that. He had to believe it. He had made it this far—they had made it further along than anyone.

  If she were sick or in pain, that would be a whole other kettle of fish. But every test had shown her healthy. Thriving in the comfort of Wyatt's womb.

  Uncurling, Wyatt paced around and around his room, forcing himself to think.

  All the male mothers who had come down with the Flu had been carrying a female fetus, so the doctors started selecting the newly implanted embryos for male genes. That explained why the random boughts of the Flu had gone down recently in the Ranch and the Lotto House.

  But... there had been twenty-four pregnancies in the Ranch, including Tyler. Wyatt estimated around fourteen were in the first wave. If the population of males to females used to be 50/50, then half of those fourteen were carrying female children.

  Three had died.

  That meant, statistically, there were a couple left that were carrying girls, including him.

  It had to mean something. It had to.

  Twitching aside a curtain, Wyatt looked out the window at small village that had grown outside the fence. There were now RVs and campers, tents, and cooking fires as far as the eye could see. Men, who for one reason or another wanted to get close to the Ranch.

  In the weeks since they arrived, not one person had tried to get in by force, or shot a gun in their direction.

  They were only desperate men who wanted to get close to a chance at humanity's last ditch effort for survival.

  "I'm sorry," he said to his daughter. "I don't know if this is the right decision or not, but I think we need you to live even more than you need us."

  Chapter Nineteen

  Wyatt could see a reflection of himself in the unblinking eye of the camera. Even distorted, his reflection looked pale and wan.

  According to all medical tests, Wyatt was still healthy, but stress and fatigue had obliterated his baby glow.

  He'd hardly slept at all, recently.

  I'm becoming more of a parent every day, he thought wryly. Run ragged by worrying over my i
nfant.

  But he forced a smile for the interviewer. The cameras. The world. He had been given a list of the questions, slid under his door before dawn, and had spent all morning preparing his answers.

  He had a feeling no one would like what he had to say.

  Grayson was in the room, hovering out of view of the camera and giving Wyatt sad, sideline glances.

  Wyatt didn't look at him. In the three days since the ultrasound, he had been cordial, but cold to the doctor, asking answering direct questions with simple monosyllabic answers. Not offering a hint of warmth.

  The thing was... he wasn't angry at Grayson. Not really. How could he be, when Grayson was willing to give up everything—possibly even his one chance at fathering a child—just to keep Wyatt safe?

  But Wyatt couldn't allow himself to go down that path. If he let himself empathize with Grayson, he might start to question himself and his choice. He couldn't afford that. Especially not when Wyatt was possibly on the verge of hurting him.

  All tests were still showing green across the board. Wyatt suspected this was the reason why no one else had pressured him to terminate the pregnancy. Maybe they thought fear would make him come to his senses. Maybe they were curious to find out what happened next, if Wyatt and the baby could actually pull through. After all, he and his daughter were certified medical miracles.

  Wyatt planned to use public pressure to stay that way.

  One of the producers with a clipboard in hand counted down from five. He silently signed the last three numbers. At zero, the interviewer plastered on a practiced smile and turned to Wyatt.

  "Well, Wyatt," he said, his expression warmer. "It has been about a week since we last talked. How is celebrity treating you?"