As a young man, I dreamed of having my own show where all the people would come and see my work and get it. And now that I had a real opportunity to have the show, my biggest concern was far from if they got it or not.

No, I was more worried about whether I’d have enough pieces to make it worthy of the gallery space and advertising.

One thing I swore to myself when I decided to pick painting back up was that I’d never be that person who did it for money, even if the possibility of money was right in front of me, calling out to me.

Part of that meant only working on things I felt passionate about.

The only problem with only creating your passion is that sometimes the things that weigh so heavily on your mind are just a little bit too heavy to dwell on for too long. And it was that heaviness that had me putting down my paints at twelve o’clock in the afternoon with a deadline looming. I was done for the day. Or at least done until later.

My mind was too focused on the the doctor’s appointment Rhys and I had later that afternoon. Technically, it was mine, but Rhys offered to come, and I took him up on it without a second thought. I hadn’t expressed my concerns to him over our child’s well-being. He’d been so excited by the news, I couldn’t bring myself to tell him about all the ways being pregnant at my age could go wrong.

So instead, like any rational person, I held the feelings in and let them amplify with every Google search I made. Now, I stood in my house, covered in paint, staring at an unfinished painting, one that showed all of the turmoil that the what-ifs of my pregnancy had thrust upon me. What if I’m not really pregnant and this was age-related hormonal issues instead? What if the baby wasn’t viable? What if the baby was born with a disability or birth defect that had odds of increasing as I aged?

So many what-ifs. And no answers. Not yet.

My phone buzzed on the table beside me, and I looked down to see Rhys’s name. He had some spidey sense, knowing when I needed him most.

“Hello?” I answered.

“Oh love, you sound frazzled.”

I did? Inhaling deeply, I tried again, hoping to hide my concerns from him at least while he was working. “I just finished painting.” It wasn’t a lie.

“Excellent. I’m almost to your house. I have something to show you.”

“Then I best shower and change.” And magically make the circles under my eyes disappear.

“Are you full of little splatters of paint?” His voiced dropped low, they way it often did in the bedroom. How could he make asking me about my disheveled state sound like foreplay?

“Caught me.” I fidgeted with my t-shirt, noticing just how much paint I had on me. It was par for the course with my style of painting, especially when I got really into a piece.

“Then don’t change.” It was a command. A sexy in-the-bedroom command, even if we weren’t even in the same building, much less the same room. “You always looked so incredibly sexy when you work. Besides, I am at the light on Jolly.”

Jolly Street was only a handful of blocks away, and even if I wanted to defy his smexy orders, I didn’t have the time.

I just got my brushes in their jars to soak when he came in. That small act of him coming in with the key I gave him was somehow everything to me.

Rhys wore jeans and a fitted tee, his muscles brushing against the fabric enough to tease my senses, but not enough to be over the top.

I was one lucky omega.

“If you keep looking at me like that, we are going to be late,” he teased, stalking over to me with a look in his eyes that mirrored mine.

“You’re one to talk.” I wrapped my arms around his neck as soon as he reached me and pulled him in for a kiss. I had missed him. He’d been gone only one night thanks to an international web conference at work in the middle of the night.

“Missed you,” I mumbled against his lips.

“I’m here now,” he mumbled back before breaking our kiss, both of us with bated breath. “We should go. We don’t have a lot of time before the appointment with the doctor.”

“Are you going to tell me where?” I asked, already knowing that if he were going to tell me, he’d would have done so.

“Trust me.” His hand slid down, intertwined his fingers with mine, and we headed out to the car, his shirt now speckled with my paint, something he seemed to mind not at all.

Could he be any more adorable?

We drove toward the city, but instead of heading to downtown, we turned in the direction of the river. We chatted about silly inconsequential things, my eyes never veering from the road trying to figure out his surprise before we arrived. The gallery and the doctor’s were in different directions, and things were getting progressively more residential as we drove.

“Did you figure it out yet?” he teased as he turned on the blinkers into a neighborhood and off of the main street.

“No. And you were supposed to give me hints,” I faux-pouted.

“I did.” I turned to see his smirk. “I told you I hated not coming home to you.”

He had said that—more than once since we got back together, but this time he emphasized the word “home” differently.

“Really?” I asked as he turned onto a long driveway with a for sale sign alongside it.

“Only if you want.”

“My home is good.” It was definitely not what he was used to, but it was well-kept and almost paid for.

“It is wonderful. I just thought maybe you might want to look at something a little closer to my work and your school.” He pulled up to a Frank Lloyd Wright-inspired home.

“This? This is the home you are showing me? This is a—a—”

“The house you said you always wanted when we had that architectural drawing unit in school?” He tapped my nose and climbed out of the car just as a Lexus drove up. Why did realtors always drive a Lexus?

I climbed out just as Rhys was shaking hands with the realtor, a young woman in her thirties. She seemed a little flustered, like this meeting was completely out of the ordinary. Then again, how often did she show a home that was practically purchased before the potential buyers ever showed up?

I followed the two of them, careful of the bulge in my stomach, and held out a hand for the realtor. She warmly took it.

“You must be Ethan Rhodes.” At my nod, she beamed. “My name is Chi Sanders. Mr. Collins here has said told me that you have been interested in this house for a long, long time.”

I licked my lips and nodded, at a loss for words. “Yes,” was all I could manage.

Her grin widened even further, and I decided that I liked her. “Well, then, let’s take you for a tour to see if it fits your growing family.”

She led us up the steps to the house, talking about everything the home had to offer. I could name the particulars about the house from memory, as it was a house that I had been fantasizing about since I was in high school.

“It was built in 1908, in a distinctive prairie style. The first floor is approximately 1900 square feet, and the second floor is about 1600 square feet.” She unlocked the grand oak door and opened it. I was almost breathless as I stepped inside, awed at the interior. The exterior was gorgeous, but this…

I held Rhys’s hand tight in mine, and his thumb stroked the back of my hand.

“There are five bedrooms, three bathroom, a well-appointed kitchen,” Chi continued, following Rhys and me into the home. I gaped up at the foyer, seeing all the way up to the second story, where twin staircases led upward. The floor was made with a hardwood pattern that must have taken years to lay.

In a daze, I looked around the house, stepping into rooms I’d only dreamed of. The kitchen was expansive. The master bedroom was next to what would make a great nursery for the baby. There was a room that would be perfect for Jake when he spent the night. A guest room. An office for Rhys. And…

I gasped as we stepped out into room that wasn’t quite a sunroom, but it also wasn’t quite a sitting room. It had an open, airy feel with skylights and floor-to-ceiling windows.

“Ah, this is a more recent update to the house,” Chi said. I turned to her as she flipped a switch, and I realized that there was something akin to a garage door mechanism as the windows flipped up and slid along the ceiling, completely opening up one wall to the elements. “It’s indoor/outdoor living at its finest.”

I couldn’t stop staring.

“I thought this would make a perfect studio space for you,” Rhys said softly.

I was simply speechless as I looked around the room. He gave my hand a squeeze, as if to tell me that this was real life.

“I’ll leave you two alone to discuss,” Chi said brightly. She backed out and closed the door behind her, leaving Rhys and I alone in a dream.

“Do you like it?” Rhys asked. He seemed almost breathless himself, like he was nervous about what I thought.

As if I could think anything that wasn’t rainbows and unicorns. Because stuff like this didn’t happen to men in their forties. This didn’t happen to people like me.

“I love it.” I glanced up at him, and a small, secretive smile played about his lips. “I don’t think it’s real.”

He pressed a kiss to my brow. “It’s real, omega mine. It’s yours. If you want it.”

“I…” I cleared my throat, because I needed to gather my thoughts, which spread out before me like scattered marbles. “Are you sure?”

“I’m absolutely certain.”

“But what about your own house?” The one where my paintings are hanging up with a freaking Rembrandt.

“This will be my house, too.” He cast his gaze around the studio space. “Our house. With our baby.” He grasped at both my hands, holding them as he looked deep into my eyes. “I hate going back to my place and you’re not there. I want you to know that I’m here for you. I’m here for the baby. And this is a start.”

He placed his hand on my belly, his expression soft and reverent.

“Please tell me you’ll take it,” he whispered. “That you’ll take me.”

I placed my palms on both side of his face and gave him a long, deep kiss. “How could I say no?”

His expression was as bright as the sunlight coming through the open windows.

“Looks like we’re buying a house, then,” he said. “Welcome home, Ethan.”