“No. But you have to be halfway decent if you mated my boy. So, tell me more about youuuuu.” Lowe waved a hand around and explored the apartment uninvited, going straight for the fridge where he popped open a bottle of apple juice and drank…straight from the jug.
Dray and Tripp exchanged an exhausted stare.
“So, I couldn’t afford a hotel room, and I’ll be crashing with—”
“What happened to the money I sent you?” Dray sighed heavily.
“I have bills. Take it where you can get it, babe.” Lowe took the whole bottle to the living room, where he flopped on the couch and stared around at the décor. “Where’d you get the inspiration for this getup? A bottle of antidepressants?”
Dray gave Tripp asee, I’m not the only one who thought thatglare.
Tripp gave him anow I know where you get it fromexpression in exchange.
Lowe’s nails, recently done, tapped out a rhythm on the bottle as he threw his feet up on the coffee table. “Also, holy shit, babe, I knew you said there was a baby on the way, but I didn’t know you were fuck-all far along!”
“Yes, Dad, I’m almost eight months.” Dray sighed heavily. They’d pushed things way too far out, and it was tiring to do much more than walk around. But, their little one wouldn’t be born a bastard, at least.
“Could have told me sooner. I’m not old enough to be a grandpa! I’m only thirty-nine.” Lowe huffed, and Tripp glanced over, brows raised. Dray nodded to confirm.
“That’s exactly why I didn’t tell you.” Dray found one of the side chairs and sat in it, spreading out with a deep sigh that appeared to sink into his very core. The prominent bump under his shirt wiggled a bit as if their little one needed situating, too.
“Also, you’re huge. I never got that big.” Lowe sniffed and sipped from the jug again. “I can give you this neat diet thing I did—”
“I’m doing what the midwife told me was healthy. I’ll worry about how I look after.”
“If you want to keep your maaaaaaan,” Lowe singsonged.
Tripp understood, deeply so, why Dray didn’t get along with his father.
“I’m not concerned about his weight, his figure, his skin, or anything like that,” Tripp said, strolling over to sit on the arm of Dray’s chair. “I love him.”
Lowe snorted into his apple juice and laughed. “Honey, all alphas say that, but wait until he’s three months postpartum, not feeling like riding a knot, and—”
“My dad was canid?” Dray’s eyes widened.
“Probably. I have a thing for the woofies. But anyway!” Lowe winked at Tripp. “Snakes are good, too. Packin’ that hemi—”
Dray hissed angrily. “Stop, Dad.”
“Fine, fine!” Lowe waved his hand. “Point is, get fit quick after and learn not to say no.”
“Ew.” Tripp’s face twisted. “No, sir. Dray waits until he’s ready. He does what the doctors say. We wait until he’s ready, and understand that I love him for his mind, not his body.”
“Well, you’d have to, what with all those piercings and tatts.” Lowe dug into the bag on his hip, popped out a little bottle of vodka, and poured it in the juice before throwing it back with a long chug.
Dray and Tripp gave one another the look again.
“Lowe, I understand you’re my new father-in-law, and that Dray loves you in his own way. There’s respect there for how hard it was to raise him so young and alone.” Tripp scratched the back of his head anxiously. “But if you’d like to use my spare bedroom, please be nice to Tripp. He’s pregnant, it’s his wedding, and he’s not smiling right now. I love his smile more than anything, and you are taking that away.”
Dray shifted his fangs a bit and grinned up at Tripp with a menacing stretch of his lips. “Even when you do that.”
“Gag.” Lowe snorted and capped the empty apple juice bottle. Dray had been craving it nonstop, and it reminded him to go check the pantry to make sure he had another bottle for the fridge. As he stepped away, Dray gave him adon’t leave melook that he ignored.
While in the kitchen, he heard a muttered, “Nice ass on that one. His dick game good?”
Tripp stifled a laugh and could imagine Dray rubbing his nose bridge in frustration. “Great ass, yes, and the dick is very good, Dad.”
“Excellent.”
