“We need to pull around to the main door,” he said quietly. “I called ahead and they are expecting me.”
“Very well.” I parked in the patient loading zone by the hospital main entrance, tossing the car keys to the valet as I rushed around the car to assist Bari inside. In a matter of minutes, he was settled into a wheelchair with his satchel in his lap and being wheeled up to a room on the specialized Omega maternity ward. When I tried to follow him, a burly orderly stepped into my path.
“I’m sorry, sir, but only the sire or assigned birthing coach is allowed into the room until after the doctor examines the patient.”
“But I’m his husband,” I argued through gritted teeth.
The orderly offered a sympathetic smile. “I understand, but the designated birthing coach is one Alpha Byrne and the sire is listed as deceased, so you’ll have to wait in the lounge.”
Growling under my breath, I paced the length of the waiting room repeatedly. When Alpha Byrne stepped off the elevator, he was grinning.
“It’s time, is it?” he asked jovially, clapping me on the back. “Why aren’t you in with Bari?”
“They won’t allow me in,” I snapped. “As I am neither the sire nor the birthing partner.”
“I see.” Byrne gave me a sympathetic smile. “I’ll see if there’s ought to be done as soon as I’ve checked on our Omega,” he assured me.
“MyOmega,” I huffed in response, ignoring the answering smirk on Petroh’s face.
“Of course,” he agreed blandly, patting my shoulder again. “I’ll return as quickly as I can.”
Then I was left alone to continue my pacing.
