A pup. I knew it was in there, but it’s a whole different thing seeing it on screen.
“Oh!” Julia gasps. “Is that the heartbeat?”
“Yep. Nice and steady, right where we like to see it at this stage. We’ve got one…”—Helena moves the wand until the first kidney bean goes out of focus and a second one appears—”two…and three. I think that’s all, but sometimes we’ll find another one hiding at the seven-week scan.”
“Three?” Julia breathes.
Three.A pack of pups. I feel faint.
“Does Dad need a chair?” Helena asks kindly, nodding at one behind me.
I draw in a deep breath, steadying myself. I need to get my shit together for my mate. She’s probably freaking out. “No. I’m just happy. So happy. I can’t believe it.”
“Me either,” Julia says wryly.
“So…about that protein,” Helena jokes. “You’re gonna need it.”
We leave her office overwhelmed, armed with a binder of tips for dealing with morning sickness and other pregnancy symptoms, fetal development facts, a nutrition guide, a raster of forms to fill outregarding the birth, pediatrician choices, and postnatal support.
We pause by the exit. It’s still raining, so once we leave the building, it’ll be another dash back to our cars with no opportunity to talk.
“How are you feeling about everything?” I ask, biting back my own excitement.
“Hungry,” she says, grinning and rubbing her belly.
“No, really,” I press.
“Glad it’s not four, I guess?” She’s still smiling, but her forehead creases with worry.
“Three is a lot,” I acknowledge. It’s a very average litter for a wulver pregnancy, but for a human, it’s a lot. “They’re smaller than human pups—babies, I mean. It’ll be easier than you think.”
“I guess we’ll find out!” she says too-brightly, avoiding eye contact. She’s putting on a brave face, but judging by her scent, she’s terrified. “So…see you next week, same time and place?”
I shake my head, not ready to give her up just yet. “Let me take you to lunch.”
She lifts her eyes to meet mine, nibbling at her lower lip. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Ian. We should probably limit our time together to pregnancy-related stuff only. That’s a healthy boundary.”
“Lunch is healthy. You need the protein,” I wheedle. “Thepupsneed it. It’s essential prenatal nutrition.”
She caves, laughing. “Okay. Lunch. We can fill out forms.”
Yes.
“What do you think about getting Korean food? I’ve never had it,” I confess. “If you’re up for being my teacher, I’d like to learn more about it, so I can introduce the pups to it someday. But if you’re craving something else…”
“No, that sounds good. I’ve been wanting that,” she says, blinking quickly. Are her eyes misty? “It’s okay if you don’t like it, though. It’s not for everyone.”
“I’m going to love it,” I assure her.
I drive us to a Korean barbecue place she recommends. It’s amazing. We eat. We laugh. We pick a random wulver pediatrician whose bio mentions support of interspecies families.
It’s a great fucking day.
When I drop her off at her car, I want to kiss her so badly. I want to thank her for making three beautiful pups for me whose blinky little heartbeats might as well be stars in the sky as far as I’m concerned. I want to take herhome.Toourhome.
“Drive safe,” I say instead, gripping the steering wheel with both hands.
“You, too.” She starts to get out.
