“I know,” Creed said. “And I lied to you. I was texting Bear.”

“He said you were Spider-Man,” I answered dutifully. “Because of your superpowers. Also, I do know how to use the internet. I just don’t like looking up people selling breast milk on it.”

She arched an eyebrow at me. “And why are you looking up people selling breast milk?”

“Well, now when you put it like that, I… have no idea.”

“Sometimes he doesn’t know why he does the things he does,” Otter said, and they shared a weird secret smile, like they had an inside joke with each other. They were commiserating.

I didn’t know how I felt about that.

WE’D SAT down to eat before Anna asked us how the surrogacy search was going. I knew it was coming, because we’d told our family that we’d already started the process. The people at the Northwest Surrogacy Center couldn’t have been nicer to us. Every interaction we’d had so far had been pleasant and easy. Some dark, twisted part of me had prepared for some flack that two married men were wanting to conceive, but that hadn’t been the case. If anything, we were treated just like every other couple, and that was something I should have expected. I’d spent much of my life preparing for the other shoe to drop with good reason. It was hard for me to trust something out of my control, but Otter said I was getting better at it. What had started out as tenuous was slowly gathering strength, to the point of where I didn’t dread every email or phone call we received from the surrogacy center.

But still. “It’s, uh. Invasive? I mean, I knew it would be, but still. Invasive is a good word.”

Otter picked up the thread for me. “Very, very detailed background checks. And into everything. We’ve got nothing to worry about, but it’s still disconcerting.”

“It’s like you’re being judged,” I said, wiping sauce from my face. “At everything you do.”

“We are being judged,” Otter said. “Income, home life, extended family. Speaking of which, you’re going to get a phone call soon. The both of you.”

“And you better say nice things,” I warned Creed. “I’m serious. If you tell them anything about the things we used to do—”

“Like the time you and I got high in eighth grade while stuffing our faces with pizza rolls and woke up spooning each other wearing nothing but X-Men boxers?”

“Yes, Creed. Exactly like that.”

“Wow,” Anna said. “Looks like someone already beat me to getting the complete set.”

“I did not have sex with Bear,” Creed said. “I would have remembered that. Because I would have been an amazing lover.”

“You stay away from him,” Otter said, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and pulling my chair over until I was pressed up against him. “You can’t get high and spoon with Bear ever again.”

“It was one time—” I tried.