by Aiden Bates
The phone beeped again.
Don’t piss me off, Glad. Pictures by midnight.
Gladys threw her phone across the room.
***
“It’s magical, Gladys,” Denise breathed. “When you said ‘patio lights and Mexican flags,’ I thought it might look tacky. But this . . . ”
The rec room’s overhead lights were dimmed, and strung from corner to corner, side to side, across the entire space, were little globe lights and papel picado—little decorative flags cut into fragile designs. The tables were covered in striped cloths, lending a festive air to a space that was normally just used for informal yoga classes and movies projected on the wall.
The true test was when the groom and groom walked in, however. Gladys stood near the entrance and took their photo as they walked in, their eyes lit up with surprise and wonder at the transformation. Even as she felt sick to her stomach about taking their photos, she was pleased that they were happy.
Almost everyone was there to congratulate Bastian and Zachary, and gifts and envelopes piled up on a small table in the back. The food received rave reviews. And Gladys took many photos: of them dancing, eating, cutting the cake, talking, and saying their goodbyes, their arms full of brightly wrapped packages.
As she reviewed the photos on her phone later, Gladys noted which ones she could crop Bastian from. Nick would appreciate that. Zachary certainly looked happy. He was wearing a loose tunic over tight-ish jeans, his belly mostly hidden, and it looked like he hadn’t shaved since the wedding. His eyes sparkled in the low light. Marriage and pregnancy suited him.
Her phone beeped at 11:47.
Where are pics?
It’s not 12 yet & I just got home.
Just making sure they’re coming.
They’re coming. Send to email?
Yes. Thank you, Gladys.
Go screw yourself, Nick.
She sent the images to Nick’s email address. She didn’t know why he wanted them, other than the obvious, that he was just a sicko or a glutton for punishment. Gladys knew what Nick had done—tried to take advantage of Zachary when he was hurt—and found it appalling. She was glad when she heard that Zachary was considering filing a restraining order and a lawsuit; she was relieved when Nick took off for Chicago.
But Zachary wasn’t the only one that Nick befriended and then tried to take advantage of. There was a time when Gladys hadn’t been well, too.
Now she was his pathetic little spy. She didn’t think he’d do anything . . . bad . . . with the photos, exactly. What could he do? She had a brief image of him unzipping his pants—then she shut that image down. Gross. She just had to hope that was the worst of it.
Ten minutes later, another text:
Good job. Next time, more close-ups of face.
Gladys threw her phone again, and heard it bounce off the bedroom door. Maybe one of these days, she’d break the damn thing and be free.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The party sealed the deal—Bastian and Zachary wanted to stay in Stellar.
There were many more pros than cons. First of all, they knew they were in a wonderful close-knit community that didn’t care that they were gay and alpha/omega. They were still soaring from the goodwill they received at the party.
The elementary school on the third floor of Stellar Landing was surprisingly excellent, with skilled and passionate teachers (the middle and high schools were somewhat lacking, but hopefully that would be rectified in the next twelve or so years).
There was work for both of them: a fascinating subject of research for Bastian, and the breathtaking beauty of the Alaskan coast and forests for Zachary.
And one really big pro: inexpensive real estate. With their savings and the gift from the Kelsos, Bastian and Zachary would be able to afford a double-size condo on the top floor of Stellar Landing, specifically, that empty corner unit with the floor-to-ceiling windows. It was the place where Bastian realized he was falling for Zachary.
“We’ll need to update the kitchen,” Bastian said excitedly. “Put in updated appliances and more cabinet space. Imagine over here,” he whipped around to the large windows, “a sectional so we can stare out at the view all the time. The contractor said we can do motorized blinds for surprisingly cheap. Every morning, we can flip a switch and see the sun come up over the mountains. And—and—wait until I tell you about the bathtub I have planned for you—and—and–”
“Bastian, calm down.”
Bastian turned toward his husband, more slowly this time. The tone that Zachary used suggested that he wasn’t as excited as Bastian.
“I love it. You can stop the hard sell.”
“You do?!”
“What’s not to love? It’s perfect, and we can afford it.”
“I know! And come look at the baby’s room! I’ve got some great ideas.”
Meeting with the contractor and designer was fun, but that part was now over, and Zachary had temporarily moved into Bastian’s much smaller condo until the redo was complete.
The place was small. Too small. And Zachary was cranky and bored.
He was also incredibly sensitive.
Bastian would have never said as much to Zachary, but he felt as though everything he did was wrong. He chewed too loud, which Zachary said grossed him out. His cologne made Zachary nauseated, so he stopped wearing it, but soon it was Bastian’s deodorant that turned Zachary’s stomach.
“I can’t stop wearing deodorant, my love,” Bastian said patiently.
“I know, but can you find some unscented?”
Bastian cleared his throat thoughtfully. “Sure. I’ll have Carl order some.”
“And maybe some unscented toothpaste? It’s so . . . minty.”
“I—I’m not sure they make some. I could use baking soda instead?”
Zachary smiled with relief. “That would be great, Bast. Thank you.”
Bastian held in a sigh—he did that too loud, too—and nodded. He read quietly until Zachary lay down for a nap, then fled to James’s apartment.
He rapped on the door, unsure if he should have texted first. James opened the door with a smile, and behind him, a few residents sat playing cards. Bastian almost gasped with relief.
There are many differences between straight couples and gay couples. There are differences between regular gay couples and alpha/omega couples. But there’s one big thing that straight couples and alpha/omega couples have in common: the trepidation that both straight fathers and alpha fathers have regarding their childbearing spouses. It’s a unique feeling: worry and excitement, of course, but also a small bit of fear and annoyance, of biting one’s tongue over and over for the greater good.
“You gotta keep him happy, man,” Aaron said. “When Denise was pregnant, I did a lot of foot-rubbing and back-rubbing, and she made me use the bathroom down in the rec room.” Everyone laughed but Aaron just continued, “It’s true. And I did it because I loved her and our baby. It felt like a small price to pay.”
Carl nodded. “When my first wife—God rest her soul—was pregnant with our son Sweden, she only wanted to eat surstromming. Do you know it?”
The other men shook their heads, but were fascinated.
“It’s fermented fish, in a tin.”
An appalled groan went up.
“Yes, it is disgusting, and it smells like . . . well, like fermented fish in a tin. She craved it on brown bread. And if she didn’t have it, she would cry or yell. So I bought it for her. And then the other thing about pregnant women is that sometimes they get . . . you know . . . ”
Carl made a slightly rude gesture, indicating sex. The men laughed.
“So I had to make love to my pregnant wife while she smelled like surstromming. But I did it! Because she was carrying our boy. I wanted her to be happy.”
Bastian had to laugh. At least the worst thing that Zachary smelled like was Gladys’s tomatillo salsa, which didn’t smell bad at all, and Ben Gay.
He drank a bottle of beer with the men as t
hey continued to swap horror stories that were really love stories, and he felt considerably better by the time he left. His precious omega was still asleep when Bastian got back, curled on his side with a pillow between his knees and his arms wrapped protectively around his belly.
Bastian opened up his laptop and quietly started to search for scent-free toiletries.
Chapter Thirty
Zachary was happy.
Mostly.
Well, that’s what he tried to project. He tried so hard but it wasn’t always easy.
He and Bastian finally started to move into their new condo. With the renovations over, Zachary felt as if things were finally settling down and coming together smoothly—dream alpha, dream home, living the dream.
That was, it would all come together as soon as the baby arrived. Zachary had always enjoyed his inherent omega-ness, but this part of the experience—in the middle of his third trimester—was by far the worst; he felt like a stranger. With his ankles swelling and his stomach bloating, he no longer looked like himself. With the stupid pregnancy hormones surging through him, he didn’t sound or think or act like himself either.
His pregnancy seemed to bring out the inherent alpha-ness in Bastian, who was afraid for Zachary to go out even on the safest of trails without him. Zachary couldn't wait until he could go back outside into the Alaskan wilderness and capture its beauty, in peace and quiet and solitude. He really longed to be alone.
Zachary knew that Bastian was just being a good alpha and a good father, looking out for the safety of his omega and their child. And Zachary knew how lucky he was to be having a child with this man, but he just wished it would all move more swiftly along. He wanted everything back to normal. He liked who they both were before.
"What are you thinking about?" Bastian crooned into Zachary's ear, as he looped his arms around Zachary's neck. Bastian had been nothing but adoring to Zachary and their child, and Zachary sometimes felt guilty for feeling this way about the pregnancy.
"Nothing much. Just excited for this step in our lives." Zachary looked out the huge living room window at the beautiful view of the forest and mountains. The first snow arrived a few weeks ago, and it was still shimmering and pure. He’d never get used to the view.
Zachary was not going to tell Bastian about how he really felt about the pregnancy because he didn't want to upset him. Bastian talked to whomever would listen about how excited he was to be starting a family, how eager he was to meet the little one. It was an endearing trait in an alpha. He didn’t want to bring Bastian down, even though it felt like his moods were doing that on their own.
"Which step? The marriage or the baby or the condo? I can't decide which one I'm more excited about," Bastian joked, murmuring it softly into the back of Zachary's neck.
"Very funny. I, for one, can't wait until this baby finally comes out." He laughed a little, hoping that Bastian wouldn’t worry about his tone. He sounded just a bit too bitter.
Bastian pulled away a bit and gave him a puzzled look, but didn’t say anything. He turned and grabbed a small toolbox off of the kitchen counter.
“I’m going to help Aaron take apart the bookshelf in the old place. You’ll be okay here?”
“Oh yeah, I’ll be great. Sitting here, thanking my lucky stars that I’ve got the perfect excuse not to have to help you move.” He swirled a hand around his tummy with a comically evil grin.
Bastian smirked and blew him a kiss before heading out the door.
The new living room was empty except of one hideous, bulky, but incredibly comfortable old couch that was going to have to do until their new stuff arrived from Anchorage in a week or so. Zachary plopped onto it with a satisfied groan, and rested his hands on his swollen middle. The kid kicked Zachary in the bladder.
“Hello to you, too,” he said in a sarcastic tone, as if talking to a rude roommate instead of a tiny baby.
A tap on the door made Zachary groan again—he’d just gotten somewhat comfortable—and he yelled over his shoulder for whomever it was to enter.
“Zachary, honey! I brought ya’ll some lunch! How’s my chubby little puddin’ today, huh?” Dear, sweet, Southern Holly sure knew how to make a man feel loved and like a complete fat-ass.
How it happened, he’d never be able to explain, but he went from feeling mildly annoyed at the world to sobbing in the middle-aged woman’s welcoming embrace.
And Holly, bless her, acted like it was the most normal thing in the world for a man she’d known for less than a year to be sobbing in her arms over his pregnant belly.
“There, there, honey . . . is it the hormones?”
Zachary nodded, because there was absolutely nothing real to complain about.
“You just have yourself a good cry. I cried more when I was pregnant than I had before or have since. Of course, I had a good-for-nothing husband, not a winner like your Bastian.”
That made Zachary cry even harder.
"I feel so guilty. Some days, it feels like I'm more excited for the baby to just be out than for the baby itself. I don’t feel like myself. I’m like a . . . an incubator, you know? I just wish it was over.”
“I think you need a reminder of who you were, and who you’ll be after the baby comes. Maybe you just need to take some pictures, honey.”
Zachary nodded. He’d never been a crier. It was embarrassing, but he knew Holly of all people didn’t think any less of him for the little breakdown.
“I tell you what. You tell that husband of yours that Miss Holly is taking you for a drive sometime this week. Whatever day works best for you. Have you been to Ferris Lake? It’s already frozen this time of year, but the winter birds hang out around the edge. You’ll get some lovely photos. Make sure you bundle up.”
By the time Holly left, leaving behind a casserole dish filled with what she called “three-cheese Mexican macaroni,” Zachary felt much better. It was certainly that the hormone surge had passed, but he had to give Holly credit—she was like human Valium.
Zachary dug out his favorite camera and started to get it ready for their trip to Ferris Lake.
Chapter Thirty-One
The research was going so well.
Of course, Bastian knew that the sunlamps were going to be effective—that research was already well-established—but his was the first study done with people living in such an enclosed community.
The Stellar Landing residents that had previously shown signs of seasonal affective disorder were reporting improved mood and showing improved cognition. Both adults and children were doing better on the timed tests, and everyone said they were feeling more positive. The teachers even said that the kids were better behaved in the classroom.
There were two sides to being a psychologist, or any scientist for that matter. There was the part that they all said drove them, helping others, helping the world. But equally as strong was the drive to discover something that had never been discovered before, one’s own personal nerdy Everest.
Even as Bastian checked on his subjects, made sure no one was seriously clinically depressed or in need of medical care, and monitored the community health of Stellar Landing on a daily basis, he also fantasized about the day when his research and discoveries would contribute to Big Science in a big way.
And apparently, the chance was there. The head of the department that Bastian worked for sent him information on a simulated Mars colony in Hawaii. Bastian was familiar with the colony. It was on the side of a dormant volcano in Mauna Loa, and astronauts in training spent a year or more there, working in isolated conditions so that they could mentally and physically prepare for living on Mars. Scientists from all over the world observed the participants to learn what they could and help prepare for future needs on the Red Planet.
It seems the head scientists at the colony were paying attention to Bastian’s recent work as well. He had the application for the position and the grant on his desk, hidden inside a manila folder.
He said nothing to Zachary. There was
nothing to say yet, right? Why excite or upset him when there wasn’t anything concrete yet?
The real issue, though, was that Bastian knew that Zachary was feeling dissatisfied with life in the slow lane of pregnancy. That would get better, Bastian was certain. But until then, how would Zachary react to the thought of Bastian’s life getting more exciting?
And an even bigger “what if”—how would Bastian going to Hawaii, even for the short-term of the Mars study, affect their decision to work and raise their child equally? How would Zachary feel about being relegated to the stay-at-home dad position after all?
Bastian realized he was holding his breath as he flipped through the grant paperwork. He forced himself to breathe, and then put the papers back into the folder, and into a drawer. The forms weren’t due for eight weeks. He’d figure it out by then.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Zachary had grown to love young Dr. Thoreson. The new doctor was so excited to be handling his first omega pregnancy, and his enthusiasm was infectious. After each appointment—now every two weeks, as was standard with late-term male pregnancies—Zachary felt a much-needed burst of positivity.
“He’s probably only thirty years old,” Zachary told Gladys, who was his wheels for the day. “But he’s very knowledgeable. His focus in med school was omega pregnancy. He just hasn’t done one on his own. Until now.”
“How do you feel about that?” Gladys asked. “It seems a little . . . scary to me.”
“After Nick Nichols? This guy is a dream come true. Someone who actually cares about my wellbeing for a change.”
Gladys was silent. Zachary figured that she might not understand what it was like to be taken advantage of by a bad doctor, and she likely didn’t realize how hard it could be for pregnant omegas to find a good doctor.
“Thanks again, Gladys, for bringing me today. I don’t like to bother Bastian for the little stuff.”
“No problem at all, Zach. Though I’m sure Bastian doesn’t mind being bothered.”
