“We'll think about it.” That was Larkin-coded and meant yes.
The gifts were piled onto a separate table. There were tiny clothes and soft blankets. Briggs gave us a handmade quilt with little fire trucks stitched on it, and I couldn’t contain my tears.
Colin gave us a wooden rocking chair for the nursery. The craftsmanship was beautiful.
“Larkin mentioned that he builds furniture. I figured the baby's dad should build the crib, so I did the chair.”
Nobody had warned me baby showers would result in me weeping onto my mate’s shoulder.
Janice’s gift was a framed photo collage with pictures from both stations. There were shared events and daily life, with birthdays and Christmas celebrations, friends who’d moved on and new ones we’d become close to.
“For the nursery, so the baby knows where they came from.”
Larkin put an arm around my shoulders. “We’re very lucky.” He kissed the top of my head.
And it could have all gone so wrong when our relationship was revealed.
Briggs found me near the bar later, where I was eating brownies. He jerked his head toward Larkin. “I wasn’t sure if he was good enough for you, but he’s all right.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” I nudged his shoulder. “Not only for Larkin but also for my ability to choose a great guy.”
My mate appeared, and Briggs said his goodbyes. “Are we ready to go?”
“Oh yeah.”
There were handshakes and backslaps before we escaped outside.
“It was a great day.” Larkin opened my door.
“The best.” I eased into the seat and rested my hands on my belly. “Our kid is going to have the biggest, weirdest, and most competitive family in the state.”
“They'll fit right in.”
SIXTEEN
LARKIN
I came home from the station to find every pillow in the apartment piled in the corner of the nursery. They weren’t stacked but arranged. Percy had built a circular mound of cushions, blankets, every towel we owned, and shaped it like a wide, shallow bowl. He was kneeling in the middle, rearranging a large blanket.
“Don't say anything.” He didn’t look up.
“I wasn't going to.”
“You were going to say it looks like a giant bird's nest.”
I protested. “What? No way. You can’t read my mind, but it, ummm, does look like one.”
Percy sat back on his heels and wiped sweat from his forehead. He was almost nine months, and because his belly was so big, he moved slowly and often cupped it with one or both hands.
“My dragon won't be quiet. He's been nagging me all day. More blankets, cushions there, and also pillows. The nest has to be softer and warmer, and that one goes on the left.”
We’d been expecting this because in the final weeks of their pregnancies, dragon shifters built nests guided by instinct.
“Can I help?”
“Get the blue blanket from the couch and the quilt that Briggs gave us.”
I brought both, and Percy wove them into the structure. His arrangements were precise even though he'd never done this before. His dragon was guiding him, and the result was a beautiful, warm, padded nest lined with soft fabric. It was deep enough to cradle a body and wide enough for two so both my mate and I could lie in it.
