“I have news,” I tell her, unable to keep it in any longer.
“Good news?” she says, pushing a stray hair off of her face.
“Very good news. I, well, Finnegan the Fox is up for the mascot of the year through the NHL.”
She sits up as quick as she can eight months pregnant and blinks at me before crying and wrapping her arms around me. Tears are about a daily appearance with Sloane, so we’ve all gotten used to it.
“I’m so proud of you.”
“I wouldn’t have been able to do it without you.”
“So true,” she says, and I laugh and pull back and cup her face.
“I mean it. No one else cared about how the mascot looked or was represented online. You helped give him a new look andhelped me create the right personality for him. I wouldn’t have gotten here on my own.”
“You would have. I just made it go a lot faster,” she says.
I rub her round stomach and kiss her belly over her shirt. The little guy gives me a swift kick to the face, which makes Sloane wince.
“He’s fucking ginormous. I don’t think he’s going to be able to get out,” she complains. “I had to fornicate with massive men, and this is what I get.”
“I think he’s normal sized; you're just small.”
“Shut up,” she whispers, lying back down on the couch.
“What do you need, baby?” Max says, putting groceries away.
“To give birth,” Sloane complains.
“Do you want to work on the birth manual slash vision board?” I ask her. She arches an eyebrow at me and sighs. “Damn, not even up for that?”
“I just want to feel comfortable again.”
“Whatever you need, sweetheart,” I tell her.
“Minus activities vetoed by your doctor or Alpha,” Bram yells from down the hall.
Sloane rolls her eyes and shifts on her elbows and smirks at me. “Does Ethan Heart, award-winning mascot, want to go down on his Omega?” she asks.
I laugh. “I thought you’d never ask.”
I devour her like she’s my last meal, and she passes out immediately after. I’m a lucky man.
“I can’t do it,” Sloane says as she’s covered in sweat.
Max and Bram look fucking panicked. Bram always knows what to do, how to calm her down. But she’s in so much pain. She’s been in labor for too long.
“I’m scared. I can try again. I can,” she tries to plead with the doctor.
“I’m sorry, that’s not an option anymore,” he tells her, and Sloane shuts down, tears streaking her face as she shakes her head.
Bram and Max are both stroking her hair and holding her hands, but neither of them knows what to say.
I stand next to Max, and I cup her reddened cheeks.
“Hey, sweetheart. We’re going to meet our baby boy soon. You did so fucking good. So good. He’s too big and isn’t coming out on his own, so they need to take you back for a C-section.”
She shakes her head back and forth in my palms, and I stroke her cheekbones.
