by Aiden Bates
He smirked to himself. He and Bastian had invented this ridiculous—and ridiculously fun—game, where they played songs off of a Spotify playlist and had to sing them while doing that shirt-ripping motion that so many 80s singers had perfected. It was . . . stupid, really, but Zachary hadn’t laughed so hard in a very long time.
That was one of the amazing things about Bastian, was that he had such a stoic look about him, but it was all façade. He was, in quick turns, hilarious and deep, and it kept Zachary on his toes. There was never a dull moment with Bastian.
And now it was all fucked up.
His page flipping had gotten almost aggressive, and he noticed the receptionist giving him the side-eye, so he tossed the magazine back onto the table and just folded his hands together in an anxious grip until he was called back to do his bloodwork and then wait in an examining room for his new doctor.
It didn’t help that Zachary hated going to the doctor, but at least he knew that this was likely the last visit while in Stellar, a final checkup to make sure that he was fully recuperated from his concussion and amnesia before he headed to another country. The new doctor was good at keeping things short and sweet.
His name was Dr. Thoreson, though he told Zachary to call him Thore, and he had more going for him than just his efficiency and the fact that he wasn’t an evil physician trying to get into Zachary’s pants. He was a young alpha man, not long out of medical school, with white-blond hair and very pale skin, and he was smart and humble. It was a refreshing change of pace.
“Zach, how are you, my man?” Dr. Thoreson called as he bounced into the room. Under his white lab coat, he wore skinny jeans and converse. “The color is back in your face! Excellent!” As he spoke to Zachary, he ran his hands around his patient’s head, along his jaw and throat, and down his wrist for a pulse.
“Any news from that batshit-crazy Nichols?” the doctor asked. From the look on his face, Zachary could tell that he was someone who dug juicy gossip.
“Thank God, no. We told him we had a restraining order, but since he left town right away, that never actually happened. No real point to it. I have a feeling he won’t be coming back to Stellar again.”
“Insane,” Dr. Thoreson said with an incredulous tone as he tapped notes into his tablet. “Insane. So. You are good. You are the very picture of health.” He swiveled around in his chair and faced Zachary, then leaned forward with folded hands and looked him in the eye. “This pregnancy. Was it planned? Is there anything you need to talk about?”
“Whose—which pregnancy?”
The sprightly blond doctor sat up so quickly that he startled Zachary. Thoreson grabbed his tablet and scrolled frantically until he found what he was looking for, then handed it to Zachary. “Yours, Zach.”
***
It’s always on NPR and HuffPo and the Washington Post. Women getting married and pregnant and wondering if they should keep their careers, or if their children will suffer, and which preschools serve the best gluten-free macaroni and dairy-free cheese. Zachary had always rolled his eyes at these first-world problems.
Now here he was, driving slowly . . . ever so slowly . . . back toward Stellar Landing, wondering how he’d gotten knocked up and what he was going to do about it.
Oh, don’t you pretend you don’t know how this happened, moron, his inner voice said. Can you pull out? I trust you, his inner voice said in a simpering, mocking tone.
Okay, so the how was covered, but what about the what to do?
While he completely supported a woman’s and an omega’s right to choose to terminate a pregnancy, there was no question in his mind that he wanted to have a family. Unlike most women who were successfully able to carry a child to term after an earlier termination, omegas’ unique reproductive systems often made that difficult. Therefore, the time was now.
Zachary was going to be a daddy. And he’d just broken the heart of the baby’s other daddy.
The juxtaposition of joy, angst, and fear that surged through Zachary was indescribable. He stepped on the gas pedal. He needed to see his alpha.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“It’s not what either of us planned.”
Zachary lay on Bastian’s couch, his feet crossed on one of the arm rests, his head on the other, with a small smile playing across his lips.
Bastian paced before him. His condo wasn’t that big, so he took four steps and spun, four steps and spun, four steps and spun.
“No, it’s not,” Bastian finally admitted out loud.
There was much more Bastian wanted to say, but he was afraid of saying the wrong thing and scaring away the man he had grown to love.
Bastian’s first thought was that just because the baby wasn’t planned didn’t make it bad news. Sure, there would need to be some changes, some compromises. Maybe Zachary could move into Bastian’s place, or they could find a bigger place. Maybe they could move to a more central location in the contiguous states, closer to grandparents and jobs and airports. Maybe they could both work part-time so that someone was always with the child. Maybe they could name the baby after a beloved uncle or a favorite artist.
Slow down, dude. Bastian realized he was getting way too far ahead of things.
“We need to decide—you need to decide, I mean. First of all, are you happy with the news?” Bastian asked. He wasn’t sure if he could handle it if Zachary were not.
He noticed the smile before Zachary spoke.
Zachary looked at him, apparently much more at peace with the situation than Bastian currently was. He rested his hands on his still-flat belly and his smile grew.
“I really am. So it wasn’t in my plan to get knocked up right now. But the doctor says I’m in good health, and I’ve got some savings and a flexible job. It almost seems like perfect timing. And I’ve always wanted to have a family one day. Why not now?”
Relief flooded through Bastian.
Zachary continued. “You aren’t under any obligation, Bastian. If this isn’t what you want, we can figure—”
“But it is!” Bastian moved quickly to Zachary’s side, kneeling beside him. He covered Zachary’s hands with his own. “I’ve—I’ve always wanted a family, too. And I want to be with you. I know that I’m not that exciting, but if you’ll let me, I’ll follow you around the world. Literally. We can pack the little tyke up and head to the Galapagos or South Africa or wherever you need to go, and I’ll make myself get more adventurous, I promise!” He felt desperation creeping into his tone and didn’t like it at all.
“Hey, just because I’m a globetrotter doesn’t mean I crave danger,” Zachary said with a laugh. “You know those photos from the running of the bulls in Pamplona? I was on a second-story balcony recording that. No, thank you. And I prefer my alpha and my baby to stay safely out of harm’s way, as well. But maybe some nice family vacations to Turks and Caicos or Singapore. And you know I love my job. I want to take the Costa Rica assignment. I want to keep working, for as long as I can during the pregnancy, and after the baby is born.”
“So . . . does that mean you want to . . . ?”
“I want to have your baby, Sebastian Byers. Let’s do it.”
“Oh, thank you!” Bastian fell onto him with a joyful sob.
“Well. Thank you, too,” the omega said with a laugh.
Both men knew that there were many conversations to be had and decisions to be made. For now, though, the most important decision was settled.
Zachary pulled Bastian onto the couch, deep enough to hold them both as they relaxed into each other’s embrace.
“Zach, I love you. You bring color to my life that I didn’t even know I needed.”
The room was quiet except for the soft sound of a kiss.
“I love you, too, Bastian. Your kindness and compassion comforted me when I didn’t even know who you were, or who I was. When I was driving back from the doctor, I started to imagine how you’ll be with your own child. You’re going to be such a great daddy.” Zachary’s voice was thick with emotion.
“I’m a scientist, through and through, but every once in a while, something happens that makes me believe in fate.”
“Oh!” Zachary exclaimed. “If the baby’s a girl, we should name her Destiny!”
Bastian frowned comically. “No, let’s not.”
They both burst into laughter, and for the rest of the evening they held each other and made a mental list of possible names for the little one that would joining them in about thirty-three weeks.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Warm sunlight, cool breezes, the smell of saltwater. Greenery everywhere and friendly smiles. The sounds of toucans and even the occasional howler monkey.
Zachary loved Costa Rica.
It was October, a dry, cool month with nighttime temperatures dipping down into the sixties, but during the day, it stayed right at eighty degrees. Zachary’s travels often brought him to severe climates, but Costa Rica was not one of them.
The house that the magazine rented for him was barely more than a wooden shack, but it was comfortable and colorful, tucked into trees, and had a path leading directly to a hidden beach on Manuel Antonio Bay. Guava and ackee trees were heavy with fruit, and Zachary made himself breakfast every morning before wandering down to the beach to watch the early surfers and take photos.
The experience of photographing the convent and speaking to the young nuns who lived and loved there was unforgettable. Of course, Zachary should have known better—the setting itself was not quite as florid or flamboyant as he originally imagined. He imagined a little church newly painted in vivid shades of red and magenta, sitting in the middle of the jungle, with scantily clad nuns hanging out of the windows. In reality, the convent was a plain, old stone building with a small attached church, located on the side of a hill, with a large, well-maintained vegetable garden running along the sides and the back of the building. Since growing vegetables for the local schools was the convent’s original purpose, the nuns eschewed traditional religious garb for more practical clothing, but they were all in loose jeans or overalls and wearing long-sleeved t-shirts, their heads covered in wide-brimmed straw hats that protected them from the sun as they worked in the garden. They all had rosaries hanging from their belts, and simple silver rings on their left hands.
It was only after talking to the young nuns that one could tell that these nuns were not the typical variety. Their large brown eyes were earnest as they spoke about the patriarchal oppression of the Vatican, contraceptive rights, and worshipping with their God-given sexuality. Names were dropped: Simone de Beauvoir, Megan Andelloux, and Sister Jean O’Leary.
Zachary and the writer who joined him on the trip were invited to stay into the evening, when the nuns opened their doors to any men or women in their small village that might want to “worship” with them. The nuns changed into relatively modest evening gowns and red lipstick, and the tone of the convent changed from quiet place of contemplation to a rather subdued cocktail party. Zachary snapped photos of the naturally beautiful young women deep in conversation or dancing with their guests, and captured them on film leading the villagers, one at a time, to the small bedrooms in the back.
As they drove back to their rentals, Zachary wondered out loud how the Vatican was dealing with this surprising revolution. The writer said he would be putting in some calls to the Archdiocese the next day. It seemed like the hard writing had yet to begin.
Zachary, however, was done with his Costa Rica assignment, but he wouldn’t be leaving for a few more days.
At his rental, he filled the bathtub with warm water and lavender oil. The one request that Zachary had made was that his accommodations have a bathtub with running water. He lowered his naked self into the tub, his growing body displacing the water so that it almost overflowed, and sighed contentedly.
He was about five months pregnant, and while he wasn’t huge, his slender frame was not used to the extra weight and he was feeling it. His lower back ached quite a bit, his ankles were sore, and he never seemed to be comfortable unless he was in the ocean or in the tub. His belly was firm and round, and as he ran his hands over it with some of the oil, the baby kicked.
“Hey, little buddy.” For some reason, he assumed the baby was a boy. They’d opted to be surprised, and they would certainly be happy either way. He wondered what the feminist nuns would have to say about his assumption.
The next day was going to be very busy. After drying off and getting into bed, pulling the mosquito net around him, Zachary texted his folks and his alpha, and turned off the lights. He lay awake for about half an hour, trying to get comfortable, but eventually his exhaustion overcame him.
His alarm went off at seven, but the howler monkeys woke him long before that. A walk down to the beach, a breakfast of mango, avocado, and coconut milk, and half a cup of yerba mate (the doctor said a little caffeine was okay), and he was ready to face the day.
At ten, a car came to pick him up. He grabbed a garment bag off the back of the door and a small overnight bag before heading out.
“Where to, sir?” the driver asked him.
“La Mansion Inn, please.”
“Ah, okay, no problem, sir. Going to a wedding?”
“I am. Mine.”
The friendly driver exploded in congratulatory exclamations, and then teased Zachary for being pregnant before the marriage.
“Your papas have shotguns, eh?” the driver joked.
“Not quite,” Zachary replied with a smile.
He was looking forward to seeing his fathers. It had been a while.
After several miles and then a long twisting driveway, the mansion appeared before them, a privately owned residence that could be rented out in part or whole. It was overkill, for sure, but Zachary’s omega-father Kris was very into party planning, and what bigger, better party was there than the wedding of your only son? Zachary’s alpha-father Perry didn’t care so much about the planning of the wedding, but he did love to make his husband happy.
His fathers were on the covered porch waiting for him as they pulled up. Zachary had just enough time to tip the driver before his fathers enveloped him in hugs.
There was the expected “stand back so we can look at you” and “you’re as big as a house” and “no, he’s not, he’s barely showing, he’s perfect.” It was so good to see them. The timing hadn’t worked out after his accident and amnesia for them to visit, and since Zachary got a clean bill of health, there was no urgency. But now, with a wedding and a baby on the way, there would be many visits.
“Where are you going to live? Have you decided? I’d love to come stay when the baby arrives,” Kris said, without pause.
“Give him a chance to catch his breath, Kris,” said Perry. “Sit. Have some lemon-water, son. By the way, we want to help you boys with a down payment on a house. That’s our wedding gift to you.”
Zachary didn’t even need to say a word. He just smiled and listened and felt content. He was a lucky guy to have such supportive folks, and his baby was going to be spoiled as hell.
He left them to do their own thing; the wedding was the next day, and they would be making sure that everything was in order. Zachary was under strict orders to relax, so he went up to his room on the second floor of the mansion and ran the tub. A much bigger tub than at the shack, made of pure white marble with fancy fixtures, with fluffy white towels and high end body wash and shampoo.
“Oh, yes, my pretty, you’ll get a workout,” Zachary said to the tub, and within minutes he was sliding down into the water, once again. He was a pro by now, and had his smart phone contained in an airtight sandwich bag, and he looked over Bastian’s text as he soaked.
When will you be here? I miss you like crazy.
Miss you, too, my love. Layover in LA right now. Be there before you know it.
That was their last communication, and Bastian was in the air now, with his own parents. There were a handful of other guests that were either already at the mansion, or on their way—Zachary’s aunt and un
cle, Bastian’s brothers and their families, Zachary’s editor and the writer who was already on location, Bastian’s college roommate who was also his best man. As Zachary poured the ylang ylang-scented body wash over his belly, he wondered how much his folks had spent on a wedding that would have fewer than fifteen guests.
He wasn’t sure how long he’d dozed off in the tub, but the water was cool. His phone was ringing—Bastian!
“Please tell me you’re in Costa Rica,” Zachary began when he picked up.
“Just landed. We’re still on the runway. I’m not even sure if I’m supposed to be on my phone yet, but I couldn’t wait another minute.”
“We are not doing that ‘can’t see the groom the night before the wedding’ thing, are we? There’s nothing more that I want than a good foot rub and a cuddle.”
“Nothing?”
“Nope.”
“I should be there in less than an hour. I’ll pawn my folks off onto your folks and then I’ll rub your feet. I can go all night, my love.”
If only they could have gotten away with just the foot rubs and the cuddles . . . A rehearsal dinner was planned, even though the planned ceremony was only to take about five minutes. Zachary and Bastian had only about fifteen minutes alone before they were expected.
Zachary had to admit that he was nervous to meet the many Mister Byers, from Leon Byers, MD, to Niles Byers, homemaker and on the board of every charity in Sarasota, Florida, to the athletic twin brothers that were there with their husbands and kids. Everyone was lovely, though.
What was not expected was that Zachary’s and Bastian’s respective omega-fathers would team up together for a common goal.
“We were just discussing how handsome you look with-child,” Niles began. He and Kris Kelso had only just met, but had a lot in common and were becoming fast friends. “Not all men look so healthy and happy when they’re expecting.”
Kris grinned. “He gets it from me. I actually did some catalog modeling while I was pregnant for a male-pregnancy fashion line.”
