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“I thought the same thing, Jon,” I assured him. I hadn’t, but the poor guy felt bad for asking what was a pretty understandable question.

“Me too,” Indigo piped in. It seemed to help.

After we ate, it was present time. Clover had knitted them each a little blanket. Jon made them each a little rocking horse for when they were older. Stellan and his family were very practical with lots of diapers and wipes. Emerald gave them stuffie dragons. Rudy was king of the adorable onesie. And Mrs. Monro? She gave us babysitting coupons. She might’ve been my favorite.

But it was Indigo’s present that touched my mate’s heart. She had brought the babies each a piece of what she called treasure. One was a rock that, if you held it in just the right direction, could look like a dragon. The other was a piece of sea glass she found.

“They need hoards, don’t they?” she asked.

“They absolutely do.” Radley held on to both of them tight. “And these are the perfect start to them.”

And that was when the questions came, mostly from Indigo. If they were going to breathe fire, when would they fly? That sort of thing.

“At first, they will just be babies,” Radley told her, his hand on my shoulder. “So all we need to worry about are diaper explosions. And whether or not our bellies are full.”

As the gathering wound down, it was time to go back home. Going upstairs was something I felt much more confident about than going down, as far as baby safety went.

I didn’t know how many more days we were going to have like this, us as a group with just the eggs. But soon, we would be down here with our babies. And it made me happy to know that they not only had my mate and I, but they also had their Moonridge family.

My mate missed his flight, even if he didn’t realize it, and he wanted our little ones to have a flight too. And they did. It just looked a little different. It looked like a small apartment building with a wonderful courtyard, filled with people who all cared about each other more than they did stupid ancient laws.

17

RADLEY

Nobody could tell us when the eggs would hatch.

Based on her extensive experience, Emerald said it could be days. “Or maybe weeks. I’m confused whether it was a dragon hatching or a snake.” Mrs. Munro had never met a dragon before me but didn’t want to be left out and said a week.

Stellan and Indigo found a well-thumbed book at the secondhand shop. If it'd been read by humans, they would have assumed it was fantasy, but Draco, the name of the author, suggested he was a dragon. It was written in a roundabout way with an implied message beyond what was on the page. And the advice given about when the eggs would hatch?

When they’re ready, it said.

That was no help to Sheridan or me. My mate managed an hour of sleep every so often, but me and my beast were awake 24/7, watching the eggs in the nest we’d all built.

The tiger twins offered to stand guard outside the apartment, and even though I told them it wasn’t necessary, they stood on either side of the door. I felt obliged to feed them, but Miles wouldn’t let me into the kitchen, so he fed all of us, including the guardian tigers.

Mr. Girling peered around the door at the eggs and left, muttering how he wouldn’t trust tigers to guard a nest. The twins hissed they could both guard nests and cook barbecue better than any lion.

Jon bustled in and out, tiptoeing into what would be the nursery and then making a racket by banging a nail into a wall.

Sheridan was pacing the floor a lot, muttering about it taking so long, and I suggested he go for a walk.

“Get some fresh air.”

“What? And leave the eggs?”

I assured him I’d let him know of any changes, and after a lot of persuading, he left the apartment, but as soon as the door closed, he texted, Any change?

No.

He must have made it to the second floor before there was another message.

Have they moved?

Not yet.

I suspected he was on the first floor when he texted again. Are there any cracks in the shells?