I turn back to the omega waiting by the window. "Thank you so much for the offer, we’ll take you up on it," I say with a friendly smile. He nods but doesn’t smile back.
The guy seems extremely serious and stiff, like some kind of official or municipal clerk.
Aiden walks around to my side, opens my door, and helps me out. My big belly makes every movement feel clumsy. We follow the couple to their car.
"I’m Lake," I say, extending my hand to the omega. "And this is Aiden."
"Albert," he replies shortly. "And this is my husband, Max."
I glance at him. The alpha looks terrible, his complexion gray, dark circles under his eyes. He gives us a hollow look, like a man too tired to care.
What a strange pair. Maybe even a little creepy.
Feeling an odd sense of unease, we climb into the back seat of their car, a sleek black SUV.
We give them our address, and Albert mentions that they live about five minutes away. He says he has seen us driving in front of them after previous classes and figured we must live nearby.
We start driving. The conversation stays light at first. We talk about the yoga class, the instructor’s quirks, and his favorite phrases that everyone has come to expect.
Albert speaks in a calm tone, not exactly talkative, but every word he says feels precise. Like each one needs to be considered before it leaves his mouth.
We are driving along the coast when he suddenly asks, "Have you chosen a name for your baby yet?"
"We were thinking of Bay," Aiden answers. "We’ve got Lake here, and our oldest is River. Maybe it’s time for Bay."
"An interesting naming pattern," Albert says, though it doesn’t sound like approval. "We’ll probably go with something more traditional," he adds after a moment. "We haven’t decided yet. It’s not an easy choice."
"That’s true. A lot of people use family names, grandparents, great-grandparents," Aiden says.
Throughout the drive, Max stays silent, focused on the road. I glance at him a few times; he looks awful. Sweat glistens on his forehead like he has a fever.
"Is this your first child?" I ask.
"Yes. A late-life situation," Albert replies. For the first time, he almost smiles, crookedly, but it is there.
"This will be my fourth," I say.
He doesn’t seem surprised. "I thought so. Congratulations. I’ve always wanted a big family, but life didn’t work out that way."
He stops there, like he is about to add something, then decides against it.
"The first child changes everything," Aiden says with a polite smile. "It’s exhausting, but it’s also the biggest miracle of your life."
Albert doesn’t respond. For a moment, we all stare out the window. The rain is picking up, and the wind hits the SUV’s windows in sharp gusts.
Something in me feels off. I squeeze Aiden’s hand tighter, lacing our fingers together.
My other hand rests on my belly. The baby inside me seems restless, stretching and kicking. A dull cramp rolls through me, then another, stronger one. It is normal this late in pregnancy; I often get these practice contractions.
I look at Aiden. Our eyes meet, and for a moment we just stare at each other. I take in his beautiful, sculpted face, his silver eyes framed by dark lashes. I love him so much. He is a part of every cell in my body, and I am part of his.
And then it happens.
The car jolts violently. We veer off the road.
Does Max lose control on the turn? It looks like he doesn’t even try to correct the wheel.
My gaze locks on his pale, rigid profile, his clenched jaw. Everything that follows happens so fast, I can’t make sense of it.
