19
RAFF
Thorne eyed his profile in the mirror, turning to one side. He cradled his huge bump and sighed before sitting down.
“Not only can I not tie my shoelaces,” he huffed, “I can't see my shoes.” He threw up his hands. “I’m not convinced I still have shoes.”
Rupert and I kneeled in front of him, and we each tied one shoe.
“Thank you, my loves.” He tousled our hair, and Rupert and I grinned at one another before he raced out to the car.
“Are you sure you want to go?” I asked my mate as I helped him off the couch. “I can go with all the grandparents.”
“Absolutely I have to be there. Rupert has been practicing his act for three weeks. We're going.”
I inhaled his scent that had changed since he became pregnant. It was still uniquely Thorne, and as with Rupert, it still carried a hint of Bodie’s. But now it was layered with our little one’s scent.
He smacked my butt. “Stop smelling me or all the humans at school will give you side-eye.”
“Do we care?”
He shrugged. “Not really, but Rupert is walking a very individual path where he’s presenting as human but may well turn out to be a shifter in a few years.”
“Fine, so I should cross off shifting in the middle of the auditorium.”
My mate rolled his eyes and tucked an arm in mine. “Come on or we’ll be late.”
Rupert's school was a low brick building with a banner taped above the entrance that read Annual Talent Show. The parking lot was pandemonium with parents vying for spaces while kids in costumes darted between cars.
My parents were already inside. Dad had saved us seats in the third row and waved us over when we walked in. Pop was beside him, and next to Pop were Thorne's parents, Janine and Euan. I’d met them at a couple of Sunday lunches.
Like my folks, they had lost a son, but they’d had the added pleasure of knowing Rupert since birth. And as with Thorne, they were wary of me at first, and I had to earn their trust and respect, but we were getting there. Seeing me with their son and grandson helped smooth over the bumpy patches.
Janine had brought cushions for Thorne, and she fussed over him, saying they should have brought a more comfortable chair.
“I’m fine, Mom.”
“You're about to pop.” She rubbed his belly. “I remember being pregnant with you and I spent the last month on the couch with my feet up, not sitting in a hard plastic chair.”
Dad leaned across Pop. "How's our son-in-law feeling?"
“Exhausted, but he insisted on coming, not wanting to disappoint Rupert,” I whispered.
“That's how it is.” Dad smiled, and I was sure he was thinking back to when he was pregnant with me and Bodie.
The auditorium filled up, and when the lights dimmed, a teacher took the microphone and welcomed everyone. The acts were the usual mix. A girl played the recorder, and we clapped enthusiastically, though I was convinced no one in the history of the world had ever stayed in tune on a recorder.
Two boys performed a comedy sketch that they must have written because I didn’t understand it, but we cheered because it took guts to write and perform your own work.
A kid in a cape did magic tricks, and he was a pro. Whenever something went wrong, he just went, “Ta-da!” I loved it.
I was worried about Rupert’s performance, but when he walked out, he had no props and stood in front of the microphone. He hadn’t told me or Thorne what he was doing, but he and Pop had been practicing.
“Hi. I'm Rupert. I'm going to tell some jokes.”
Thorne clutched my hand. “What happens if no one laughs?”
“Hey, the kid doing the magic tricks pulled off a disaster with aplomb. He’ll be fine.”
