“I don’t want to let you down. You or our child.” There. It was out there. “My dads were never there for me. It was career first with the occasional shove in the right direction educationally for us. What if I’m a horrible father? I—” My breath caught again. I was going to die of suffocation by the time the baby arrived at this rate.
“You what?” He still looked a little green around the gills but his eyes shone with compassion. “What’s the biggest thing you’re afraid of?”
“Being like my dads.”
He lifted my hand and brought it to his lips, kissed each knuckle before looking up at me, a grin lifting one side of his mouth. “You are a kind, loving person who every kid in that dental practice adores. I’ve seen you take sad people at the lounge and turn their frowns upside down with a single song in your amazing voice. Hal, I haven’t met your dads, but from what you’ve told me about them, you are their polar opposite. Our baby is going to have the best lullabies every night.”
“I have to quit the lounge. I want to be home to sing those.” And there, my job decision was made. “But I make most of my income there. But I can’t be out late. What if something happens and you need me?”
He shrugged. “I make a good income and you probably deserve a raise at your day job anyway. But you love singing at the lounge. Maybe you can just be a fill-in crooner or do one day a week or something.”
“But I need to be home every single night to —”
He shook his head and kissed my hand again. “Don’t overthink this, my alpha. I’m probably about a month pregnant and we have a long time before the baby even shows up. Why don’t we take this a day at a time and make the decisions that work for us? Our child needs happy parents. Agreed?”
I nodded, beyond words at his wisdom. “Agreed. But what about during the day when we are at work?”
“We’ll figure that out, too, but if you think my dad would let his first grandchild go into daycare, you don’t know my dad.” He bent close, linking our fingers and looking deep into my eyes. “This baby will be loved so much, by us, by my family, by our friends. Don’t borrow trouble, as Dad always says. For today, let’s get to the midwife and learn how to be good pregnant people.”
“Yes, omega.”
“And as for your dads? They can be part of our life or not as it suits them. Not because they deserve it, but because maybe despite themselves they turned out one hell of an alpha son. So they can’t be all bad.”
“I suppose they aren’t.” I let out a heavy sigh. “It’s lucky one of us has it together.”
Kipling dropped my hand and clapped his over his mouth. He thrust the door open and was sick into the gutter. When he sat up again, he offered a wan grin. “I don’t have it together, but I figure we can’t both fall apart at the same time. Next time, it’s my turn.”
“Midwife, then?”
“Please. I hope she has some ideas about what to do to ease this nausea. I can’t afford to throw up on one of my patients. Their parents won’t like it.”
I chuckled, throwing the car in gear and easing back into traffic. “I’m sure she will be a big help.” The winter sky hung heavy over our heads, but it could have been filled with multicolored hot-air balloons to match my rising spirits. “What do you suppose our child will be? An athlete? A singer? Maybe a concert pianist or a Nobel-prize-winning scientist?” My elation had no bounds.
“Hal?”
I glanced at him before turning onto the street where the midwifery was located. “My dads may have had an influence on me.”
He laughed out loud. “It’s okay. My dad still doesn’t understand why I don’t work at the restaurant.”
The clouds parted overhead, and a wintery sun sent some rays to earth. We had a lot of planning to do, but the first thing was my proposal. I wanted it to be the most romantic ever in the history of couples. And I already had some ideas.
Chapter Sixteen
Kipling
Holidays with Hal were extra. And by extra, I meant insane. The guy got called for everything and anything in between. He sang at the mall. He sang at nativity scenes all over the city. He sang at Santa Claus picture events in between Santa change-outs.
One night he came home, exhausted from head to toe and we had a discussion about his schedule.
He was working too hard.
Something had to give.
And damn it all, this pregnancy had left me needy and anxious and I wanted the comfort of my alpha.
So that night, two days before Christmas, we decided that he would quit his work at the dentist’s office starting in the new year. It was the opposite of our original plan but seemed to make the most sense. He’d be singing lullabies for afternoon naps and still a few nights a week.
Patrick was more than upset but understood. He said something about an alpha’s life is turned upside down by his omega and that’s the best way to be, upside down for your love.
So Hal worked at the lounge most of the evening and spent the rest of the night with me.
And after the new year, his lease came up on his apartment and we decided to take the next step, moving into my house, which wasn’t that big of a step at all since he practically lived at my house anyway.
Our babe grew bigger and bigger in my belly, and by spring as my bouquets from Hal became daisies instead of roses, my wardrobe evolved into paternity pants and giant shirts.
I hadn’t seen my feet in a few weeks, give or take a month.
After my Saturday nap, which had gone from luxury to absolute necessity, I heard Hal on the phone and walked into the bedroom to see what he was up to.
“Oh, last minute?” I heard him say and internally groaned.
He listened more and while he did, I pressed my chest against his back and reached around to put both hands down his pants. He gasped and then tried to cover it with a cough.
“I think I can. I’ll have to butter up my omega. Sure. I’ll be there.”
Crap. What had my man committed to now?
He hung up the phone, but I wasn’t giving him a chance to say anything but my name. I pumped his throbbing cock up and down while rocking my hips into his ass from behind. The other hand massaged and tugged at his sac just like I knew he preferred.
“I can’t…” he said, and then his body pulsed with the climax as he shot cum all over my hand.
“I didn’t even get to take my pants off,” Hal fake complained, turning around to take my mouth in a kiss that had me wanting to drag him upstairs for the night.
“I’m not apologizing,” I answered, pulling away from him to wash my hands at the sink.
“There’s a fair tonight in the next town over. A fundraiser of some sort for a kid’s medical bills. Their main act pulled out last minute. Something about a PR problem.”
I put my hands on my hips. “What kind of problem is there in helping a kid?”
He shrugged.
Oh, I knew where this was going. “So they called the local celebrity.”
He smiled from ear to ear. “I hate it when you call me a celebrity. I’m your alpha first.”
“What time?” I slumped my shoulders, pretending to be upset.
“Nine. Tonight. I have to go get dressed.”
I sighed and opened the fridge. Long gone were my nauseated days and my rigid ninja diet. I’d resume it after recovering from birth but until then, I was taking full advantage. I grabbed pineapple upside-down cake and spinach dip then the crackers from the cabinet. It was fruit and vegetables after all.
“I love you, Hal, but my bedtime is nine. Me and this babe. But have fun.”
He groaned and snagged a cracker from the pack. “I thought you could make an exception and come with me. It’s a big deal.”
I popped a cracker with an obscene amount of spinach dip on it into my mouth and chewed, purposefully making him wait. He usually didn’t ask me to go to these things with him. I went to some, but less and less, the larger my belly got.
“Where?”
“Tanger
,” he said, leaning on the counter, trailing a finger in circles around my naked belly.
“Fairs have corn dogs,” I singsonged.
“Hot dogs have nitrates. No way. Pick something else, please.”
He bent down to tell the babe about his daddy eating junk food.
“Funnel cake,” I countered, and yawned.
“I can do funnel cake. You hear that, baby mine? Your papa has to bribe Daddy with food to get him to see me sing.”
I ran my fingers through his hair. “No you don’t. I love to hear you sing. All the time.”
“Then let’s go. Get dressed. And if you’re good, I’ll give you another kind of treat before we go.”
“I’m ready already.”
And I was, hard as stone for my mate.
He took my hand and brought me upstairs and started the shower while I stripped. I sat on the edge of the bathroom counter while he undressed, enjoying the view. Steam rose from the top of our double-headed shower, and we stepped in. We both lathered up, and I thought maybe he’d changed his mind. I faced the shower head to rinse off.
I heard his side turn off and then his hands were on my hips, pulling them back to him.
“Are you ready for me, omega mine?” he asked in my ear. I pulled one of his hands to my hard-on to show him instead of tell. He sucked and bit at the back of my neck and I moaned his name.
He swiped his fingers up and down my crack while the other hand worked my cock up and down. I slapped the tiles in front of me. I had to have something to brace myself on.
Hal came around to the front and after kissing me senseless, sat down on the shower bench and took me into his mouth. His lips pressed against my groin as my dick bobbed at the back of his throat. He grabbed and kneaded my ass cheeks, but I needed more. I needed to be filled by him.
He pulled back with a pop, and I whined. “You need this, omega, or something more?”
“More,” I almost yelled in desperation.
“Come on, then. I’m afraid you’re going to slip.” He took my hand and guided me to the bed. “Lie down, mine. Show me that ass.”
I scooted to the edge of the bed, on my back, and wiggled a little just for him.
“It’s going to be quick, omega. I need you so badly.”
I nodded and reached down to stroke myself as he watched. The bulb of his head was at my entrance and my tight circle throbbed in need.
“Get inside me, alpha. Now.”
And he did. He used his stance to slam into my ass over and over while I worked my own cock and pinched my ever-sensitive nipples.
Not even ten strokes and we were both done and out of breath.
“Now we have to get cleaned up again. Shame on you,” I teased getting back into the shower and washing off the evidence of our quickie.
We got dressed, and Hal made himself some coffee before taking off. Tanger was about an hour away, so Hal sang to me softly along the way, careful not to strain his voice.
Since he was a last-minute addition, they didn’t have a backstage pass for me, which was fine since I had my eye on funnel cake anyway.
“I’ll wait in the audience.”
Hal seemed nervous and stuttered. “O-okay, but I want you to see me sing. I’m trying out some new songs.”
“I’ll be there, my love. But first, funnel cake.”
I went to the first stand I saw and ordered a fresh one, covered in powdered sugar, strawberry sauce, and drizzled with Nutella.
Again, there was fruit.
Somewhere.
I found a place near the stage and dug in while they announced Hal. He graciously took the mic and began to sing “Africa,” the song I’d heard quite a bit in the lounge. I gorged on my fried goodness, swaying in place while I did. I’d just licked the chocolate off my fingers when I heard the music stop. I looked up to see Hal, staring directly at me.
“Kipling Taylor, this song is for you.”
He started to sing, and I realized not only was the song new to him, but it was new to everyone.
My mate was singing a song he’d written himself.
The lyrics were straight out of our story and made into a melody. I blubbered like an idiot right there in front of everyone. When he finished, the crowd went nuts.
Yeah, my man was a celebrity.
“One more thing and then I’m done for the night. Kipling Taylor, my love, the father of our babe in your belly. Make me the happiest singer in the world and marry me?”
He bent down on one knee and in his hand was a box. The glint of what was inside was set off by the stage lights.
I began to sweat and felt my face turn to flame. The edges of my vision got blurry and before I knew it, the world went dark.
Chapter Seventeen
Hal
Kipling said yes. Of course, he fainted first and might have hurt himself and the baby, if not for the kindness of an alpha who happened to be behind him in the crowd and stopped him from hitting the ground. And I tried to suppress the flare of jealousy that I hadn’t been there to save him myself, but it was all good in the end. They passed him forward like some kind of crazed fans and he woke before he got to the stage, where I took him in my arms and kissed him until we were both dizzy and nearly made even more of a spectacle of ourselves by both fainting.
But he wore my ring now, or would at least until it got a little tighter.
It had taken me forever to write the song and longer to get the opportunity to use it to propose to my omega, but now, with him weeks from delivering, we were going to march down the aisle and take vows.
“Hal, I can’t button my shirt!” My calm, competent counselor of a betrothed was feeling the swelling in his middle. He’d continued to work out at the gym as long as he could, but for the past few weeks he’d had to give in and accept it was a lost cause. It hadn’t helped when he’d watched the ninja games on television, the first time in nearly a decade he hadn’t participated, and his number-one rival won.
“I told you to buy the shirt bigger. Let me see if we can make it work.” I hotfooted it into the bathroom before he could get any more upset than he already was. A little adjusting and a hidden safety pin, and we’d managed to resolve the issue. “Just don’t take too deep a breath or you may send buttons popping all over the chapel.”
His eyes glistened with tears. “I’m so fat, I don’t know why you even want to marry me.”
I leaned past his belly and nipped at his pouting lower lip. “I’m in it for the money.”
He stumbled back. “What? You are the deep pockets now, with that record contract.”
“And if I hadn’t learned that I had it in me to write a song—which I only did to propose to you, my sweet omega, that record producer wouldn’t have heard it and offered me that contract.” I’d been in the studio ever since, when I wasn’t trying to dig out more songs. Turned out I had a knack!
He sniffled. “That’s true.”
“Darn right. Now.” I turned him to face the mirror and wrapped my arms around his middle, hands splayed on the big tummy that held our child. “What do you think? Don’t we make a handsome couple?”
Despite the tear track on his cheek, his smile lifted. “Considering one of us looks like he ate a basketball...not bad at all.”
I massaged the roundness. It was already lower than it had been, the midwife assuring us he looked great and that we were on track for a textbook delivery. “That basketball is our child. Show a little respect.” The kicks under my palms echoed the sentiment. “Now, let’s get going. If we wait much longer, our child will be a guest at the wedding.”
“At least then his daddy might have his sexy figure in the wedding pictures.”
Chuckling, I guided him before me out of the bathroom and all the way to the car.
The front of the chapel was decorated with an arch of roses and daisies and tiny red berries that were supposed to represent the cranberries we’d eaten at our first meeting. We strolled down the aisle together, as we would continue to
march into life. Soon with a child holding both our hands and swinging along as well. But for today, we were still a couple, one making vows about eternal love and taking care of each other. Nothing we couldn’t and wouldn’t do without a public ceremony, but our love felt so big, we wanted to share it with everyone we cared about. Patrick and his family, a whole lot of the kids Kipling counseled, his family, Suzi from the dental office, and her new girlfriend...everyone.
Almost.
I’d agonized over whether to invite my dads. My brother was overseas dealing with something for a client or he’d have come. And in the end, I’d tossed the invitation in the wastebasket because I didn’t need to give my dads an opportunity to reject me.
Fingers linked, we passed each pew, nodding to acknowledge our friends. Even the regulars from the Moonlight Lounge had shown up, taking up a block of seats in the middle, dressed as if they’d be heading out to the clubs immediately after the reception.
Kipling’s folks, sister and brother and cousins included, occupied the left front row, all beaming and giving us little waves. They had catered for us, as well, as their gift, so we knew everyone would eat well.
The scent of flowers was heady, the piano player who alternated at the lounge with me providing classical music that gave an air of elegance to the event, and the minister at the front smiled at us as if she’d never been happier to preside over any ceremony. As we passed the first row, Kipling bumped my shoulder and nodded to the right and my head spun. There they sat, my dads in suits that cost more than my car.
“How?” I asked the man about to become my husband.
“I found the invitations in the trash,” he whispered. “And hand-delivered them.”
My heart swelled with love for this man. I flicked a glance at them again, and my dads were smiling, looking as proud as any fathers of the groom ever would. And perhaps they were. I’d finally succeeded in my profession even if it hadn’t been the one they’d chosen for me.
I tried to resent them for it, but I couldn’t. Today, I could feel only happiness, joy, and elation. I gave my dads a nod, and they returned it, before I mounted the steps and took vows to love, honor, and cherish Kipling as long as we both should live.
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