Then I notice the other items in his pocket. Small pieces of hardware. Circuit boards. Metal and plastic components that look like they came out of a computer.
Why on earth would Pace have them? He’s not exactly tech savvy.
The phone rings again, and I glance down at the screen. The Mating & Protection Agency flashes up at me.
My heart drops straight into my stomach.
What if they’re calling Pace to say our mating is invalid?
What if there was an issue with our paperwork?
What if my father contested it and they sided with him?
What if they’re telling me I have to go back?
I answer without thinking. “Hello?”
A polite woman’s voice greets me. “Good morning. May I speak with Mr. Greene?”
My brain stutters.
I know she means Pace, but I’m technically Mr. Greene now, too.
“Speaking,” I say, dropping my voice so I sound a bit more masculine.
I hear the faint click of keys on her end. “I’m calling from the MPA with the results from Jude Greene’s post-mating physical.”
My heart jumps into my throat. “Is…is something wrong?” I ask.
“Not at all,” she replies smoothly. “Overall, the results look very good. Blood pressure is within normal range. No signs of infection at the bite site. Hormone levels are elevated, which is expected post-heat. His iron is slightly low, but still within acceptable parameters. We recommend maintaining a balanced diet and adequate hydration.”
I grip the edge of the couch cushion. “Okay,” I manage to say.
She continues, still calm and clinical. “There were no indicators of physical trauma beyond what would be typical for a recent heat and bonding. All standard panels came back clear.”
Relief starts to loosen something in my chest.
“And finally,” she adds, “the early pregnancy screening was included in this panel.”
My fingers tighten.
“We have a positive result,” she says. “Your omega is pregnant, sir. Congratulations.”
Everything inside me goes quiet.
For a second, I can’t breathe.
Pregnant.
“Oh,” I whisper, and my knees go weak. I sink down onto the couch without meaning to.
I’m pregnant.
There’s a baby inside me.
Ourbaby.
My hand drifts to my stomach automatically. It’s still flat. I still look the same, but everything about me is different now.
