The bank was a quick stop.Go, small-town customer service.The bakery, however, was not so quick. Layla insisted I wait until the fresh batch was out of the oven and that my mate eat something more than just sugar, making an omelet filled with an entire garden’s worth of vegetables for me to bring home to him. It was covered with cheese in an attempt to make it look less healthy. Knowing my mate, he’d scoff at it and then eat it anyway.
I expected to come back and see him still sleeping in the recliner or trying to convince himself to get up. Instead, he came out of the bedroom, his sweatpants rolled below his belly and a shirt that at one point would have fit both of us, barely covering his belly button, his hair damp. He was so freaking hot.
“Breakfast is here.” I grabbed some dishes and brought them out to the table, plating the food. No one liked to eat out of Styrofoam, or if they did, it wasn’t my mate. He said it made noises, his hearing getting far better as the pregnancy went on.
“I did some research,” he said, pushing a notebook toward me.
Where did that come from?
It was confusing at first, but when I opened it up, even more so. Pages and pages of information about saltwater pools, all handwritten and hand-drawn. “When did you have time for this?”
“I’ve been doing it for a while. I think it’s doable, and if we build a pool house that we connect to this house, we can use it year-round.”
“We don’t have to get a saltwater pool,” I said. “I was being silly before.”Note to self, don’t joke about things like this.
“I started this when you put your condo up for sale,” he said. “You gave up your life in the city, your career track, your friends, and your pool. Let me at least give you back your pool.”
“I don’t feel like I gave anything up.” I didn’t love that my bestie and I only talked by phone, but even that was nothing more than a slight inconvenience.
I looked at all the calculations, and sure enough, he’d done his research. He had everything from the supplies for the structure, to where to buy the water, to the maintenance. He’d gotten it broken down by time, who could do the work, and money. It was impressive and to think he did it all on the sly.
“Are you sure? We can use this money for so many things.” I’d done really well on the sale of my condo, but that didn’t mean we should spend a large chunk of it on a pool.
“I’m sure. It will be good for the kids to learn how to swim, and it would be good for us. There’s nothing like it around here. Let’s do it.”
“Let’s sleep on it,” I suggested. “Maybe wait until after the babies are born to decide if this is really what we want to do.”
“I’ll wait, but don’t think this is a pregnancy thing.” He squeezed the entire zip-top bag of frosting Layla sent for him. “Unlike these cinnamon rolls.”
Chapter Nineteen
Edris
As my mate got bigger, his confidence soared. I’d heard omegas sometimes were afraid they lost their sex appeal as their pregnancy advanced. They thought they were no longer attractive to their omegas, but mine had never had that problem. Maybe it was because our triplets were a honeymoon pregnancy, but our sex life blossomed more and more. My mate was not only sexier by the day, but he believed me when I told him so.
We’d spent months defiling every flat surface in the house and a few that weren’t flat. But one day in his eighth month, everything changed. I didn’t know how or why, only that when I got home from work, Zac didn’t come to the door, arms outstretched to hug me. He was getting pretty big, and standing up had gotten to be more of a process, so I didn’t take it personally, simply went and flopped down onto the sofa next to him.
“Hello, omega mine.” I went to kiss him, but he gave me his cheek. An accident? “Did I do something wrong?”
“No. Not at all.” He gave me a little smile, but it did not reach his watery eyes. “Everything is perfect.”
Oh, not good. He was generally a sunny person, but he was also swollen, with achy ankles, a sore back, and various other symptoms depending on the day. Nothing was perfect. And from his tone, I was ready to take the blame for whatever had him upset. Heck it probably was totally my fault.
“Good. You are perfect.” I wasn’t going to call him a liar. “But since I am far less than perfect, I have a feeling I’ve let you down somehow.”
“Oh, that’s just silly.” Another watery smile. “I’m glad you’re home. Let’s have dinner.”
“What are we having?” Dinner seemed like a safe topic. “I saw you thawed out some chicken this morning, didn’t you?”
“Yes.” He struggled to sit up straight and gave up, sinking back down into a slump. “And then I forgot about it and by the time I remembered, it was room temperature and probably toxic. You don’t want me to cook poisoned meat, do you?” Then he burst into tears. “So”—he sniffled—“there’s no dinner, and I’ve disappointed you. You’re working all day and I’m on paternity leave and the only thing I had to do all day was cook dinner and I couldn’t even get that right. So, go ahead and judge me. I don’t blame you at all.”
My head spun around three times. Not really, but it felt like it had. My omega had gone from a confident happy father-to-be to someone who was disappointed in himself, afraid he’d disappointed me, and was now sobbing in my arms, soaking through my shirt with tears I had no idea how to stop.
If he’d done it before, I’d have a play book, but his smooth good humor all these months while growing three babies had given me nothing to go on.
“It’s okay, omega.” I patted his back. “It will all be fine.”
He pulled away and glared at me. “You think so? It’s fine that our babies will have nothing to eat, that I’ll have no protein to send their way? Fine?”
