“Well, now that you’re here, you can get started on an early dinner and read a bit while we wait for Esmeray.”
I took his prompt for what it was—a polite demand to leave. “Are we having you over for dinner?”
“I am. I won’t linger, though. I know Esmeray is going through the changes,” he said politely.
The decorator snorted as she walked by. “Those last few weeks are nightmares for omegas.”
“Spare me the details, Millie!” Draevus huffed and wandered off, and I took that as a sign to go prepare a few plates of something Italian. Esmeray was consistent in his preferences, at least. I reached for a cabinet and tugged, only to find the cabinet door stuck. After a few rattling attempts, a piece of plastic caught my finger, and I glanced in, studying a little white springy mechanism that had latched the cabinet door. I wondered inwhat world our child would be able to get that high up and paused. I flicked through the other book Draevus gave me and confirmed. Flight started early forhooflings. I mouthed the word as I curled my finger against the mechanism and popped it open.
With a wave of my hand and a whispered spell, I hummed a bar of song about dust in the wind and the book floated, staying in the corner of my eye as I moved from one task to the next. Parsley, garlic, tomatoes. I gathered them and sat a half-eaten jar of capers on the counter with Esmeray’s tea mug, bag already in. I needed only cast a spell to heat the pot of water on the counter nearby and pour. Magic had become so much easier since we bonded, and perhaps it was a bit of his thaumaturgy that had reinforced my own mana.
By the time Esmeray arrived, I had only recently put the pasta on to boil, and he dragged his feet to the stool, breaths heavy. “Any day now, Gre.”
“I can tell. How you holding up?” I swept around the kitchen to give him a kiss, our lips lingering for a second longer than a peck. The contact relaxed him as I drew the sigil and poured hot water into his cup. He’d drink it still boiling if I let him—demon. I turned my back and went to the stove, smiling when I heard the caper jar open. Predictable.
“Pretty good,” he said around a mouthful. “Is the decorator here?”
“Almost done, actually.”
“I saw a bunch of baby safety stuff…” Esmeray glanced around, and I fidgeted with a cabinet lock to get some olive oil out as called for in Vincenzo’s book.
“Your father hired a baby safety expert to come in and babyproof the house while we were out today.” I waited for his inevitable huff of frustration. He hated his father intervening.So, when it came, the inevitable spit of a demonic swear, I flinched as the glass in my hand cracked.
“Sorry.” His muttered apology bled into a groan of discomfort as I threw the glass away.
“No big deal. You’re having a rough time.” I went about cooking as he sipped his tea. Again, after a few minutes, he huffed, and I turned, finding the timing a little too regular. “You alright?”
“I’m fine!” He sat his tea down and slid from the stool before storming out to go upstairs and check on the baby’s room.
His fight with the baby gate brought me over to give him his tag to open it. “They’ll get your fingerprint for it later.”
He glared at me and stomped up the steps, a certain smell about him more sulfurous than normal. I added that to the mental list in the back of my head and went back to the kitchen, prepping food. I had the sense to portion the pasta into reusable containers and add the sauce on top before clicking them neatly into place and stowing them in the fridge.
I watched the clock as I took off my apron and took a deep breath when Esmeray’s cry rang out from upstairs, followed by Draevus’s panicked call for me.
“Called it.” I took my damp rag, wiped the counter with a swipe, and strode off.
Because it wasn’t a hospital we’d be going to.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Esmeray
I made it into Ausmius’s bedroom, admiring the hard work they’d done in preparation for his arrival. The still-drying paint, the matching furniture, all of it came together beautifully. My father sat there, smug grin twisting his face as if he hadn’t meddled where I didn’t want.
“Thanks, Father,” I said, ignoring his smugness. He’d done everything I wanted done and not deprived me of a moment. Perhaps it was what my papa saw in him. Or, perhaps, he was a doting and overprotective father set on never losing me.
“Will you love him?” Father dismissed the decorator and handed her a few bills that I dutifully ignored. She smiled and left, seeing to the gates and letting herself out the front door.
“I already do. It’s not the Ausmius we know. Knew.” I rested my hand on the side of the crib. “All this because The Church didn’t want a demigod manifesting.”
“He was getting close and Ausmius knew right away what he was—” I hesitated as that odd belly-flipping sensation intensified and clenched my insides like a tube of empty toothpaste forcing the last drop free. “Fuck!”
“Esmeray?” Father reached for me and shouted out for Gre to come up. He didn’t panic, and from the distinct lack of clinking from glass and ceramic made me certain he’d known something. Plastic snaps? He was putting it up for later—smart man.
Gre arrived a few moments later, stopping by our bedroom to grab our go-bag. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and glanced at Father, unspoken words going between them.
“It’s time?” Gre rested a hand over my belly to traverse the hardness of it.
