Anxiety could inspire a painting all by itself.

I sat hunched over the toilet, holding a stick between my legs. A stick that could confirm my suspicions, which—if they were true—would be...well, awful. Because I was in my forties. And it had just been one night with a man I pushed away and hadn’t seen since.

Because I was in no condition to become a father again.

But the signs were all there, similar to how it had been after I found out that Jake would be on his way. For the past week, I’d woken up and barely made it to the bathroom before I puked up my guts. I felt nauseous at the best of times, and my hormones were all out of whack.

I’d been on suppressants. I knew better than to get pregnant, especially by my high school sweetheart. I knew how not to. I knew to be careful.

Then again, unexpected complications could always come true.

I groaned and combed a hand through my hair as I did my business.

I tried thinking of anything else other than the impending results of my pregnancy test. This would be my first time taking one, actually, because the nurse had told me the news when I woke up after the car crash.

I decided then and there that I didn’t like pregnancy tests, especially since you had to pee on them. How demoralizing.

And why did it have to be now when my nerves were at an all-time high to face the very real possibility that I could be a father for the second time? At forty?

It had been a little over a month since I’d spent the night with Rhys, a little over a month since we had made love, and a little over a month since I pushed him away out of fear of falling too hard too fast. I knew now that I had been a coward, and the thought of it kept me awake at night, especially since I’d been the one who ruined everything.

I hadn’t heard from Rhys since that morning as well. Maybe he had given up on us after I freaked out on him. Probably decided that an insecure omega like me would be too much trouble.

And now I could possibly be pregnant by him.

“Please don’t be pregnant, please don’t be pregnant,” I muttered as I pulled the stick up to look at it. How could two minutes seem to take forever? My heart pounded in my chest, ticking so much faster than the seconds of real time.

What would happen if I were pregnant? I’d have to face Rhys and see whatever he thought about it. Jake, being Jake, would be ecstatic to have a baby brother or sister, even though their ages would be twenty years apart. My painting dreams would have to take the back seat yet again. Tonight was the night I was supposed to meet Stephen’s husband and make my case for him to show my work at his gallery.

I couldn’t do that pregnant.

“No,” I said to myself. I’d figure out a way. With or without Rhys. Pregnant or not pregnant. I was still going to live my dream.

I remember you, Ethan.

Rhys’s words echoed in my ears. Well, if this were to turn out how I expected it to turn out, I’d have more than memories to remember Rhys by.

Why did I do this to myself?

The world stilled for me as the results faded into view. Two pink lines. I blinked at the test before letting out a disbelieving chuckle.

I was pregnant.

Well, that was an interesting development in the story of my life.

I sat back on the toilet and passed my hand through my hair again, thinking about all the implications that meant. I’d have to talk to Rhys about it—regardless of what happened between us, if he were still the man I remembered from high school, I knew that he’d want to be a part of his child’s life.

His child.

Our child.

My hand went to my stomach and felt for the baby that I wouldn’t be able to feel yet, and a sense of protectiveness came over me. Our child. So much for my body being like “nope” when it came to children.

After forty years old, I was going to be a father again.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Tonight, I would push this aside and meet Stephen’s husband. Do exactly what I’ve been working toward for the past month, if not my entire life. I had a baby to think about now and making a good impression was the first step in not repeating the mistakes of my past. Sure, there would be other mistakes that I would make. But I’d try to make it all right.

Tomorrow, I’d tell Rhys and face the reality of being a parent.

Tomorrow.

For tonight, I was going to be Ethan Rhodes, rub elbows at this gallery opening, and see if I couldn’t make a difference in our lives.

Anxiety could be inspiration for a painting. And the only thing I had to be anxious about tonight was the opening.

I could at least tell myself that.

I straightened my tie as I made my way down the walk to the gallery where my son was, in theory, waiting for the showing to start. After everything that had happened, I half-worried it was another set-up.

Worried.

Hoped.

Whichever.

But I wasn’t sure I could take another surprise, especially after what happened earlier today.

I was pregnant. With Rhys’s baby.

Armed with a USB drive of pictures I’d taken of my work and my best suit, I was ready for this. Or so I told myself numerous times during the short walk from my car. Why I had ever decided a noose around my neck in the form of a tie was a good idea was beyond me, but it was too late now.

In for a penny, as they said…

The gallery sat in my favorite part of the city. The energy of the unique businesses, cafes, and galleries bounced through the streets, and the hustle and bustle of the city seemed to slow down there so people could enjoy the true pleasures of life. Art. Music. Theater. It was an odd dynamic, and one that, if I’d grown up in the city, I would have been completely enthralled by.

The gallery welcomed me, its door propped open and gentle music flowing out into the street. A few steps in and I was awed by a photo of a brick. Somehow, the photographer captured something in that shot that drew me in.

A brick, of all things.

Art never ceased to amaze me.

“Welcome,” a short alpha with glasses and a welcoming smile greeted me, hand extended. “You must be Ethan. I’ve heard so much about you.”

“I’m not sure how to even respond to that.” I gave his hand a quick shake, trying to pull myself together and out of the nerve-induced meltdown I had begun to slip into. I had been doing so well until now. “Is Jake here?”

I hadn’t had a chance to tell him about the news.

“He was, but I sent him on a quick errand.” The warm smile he greeted me with never wavered. “He’ll be back before the official start.”

“Oh, sorry.” Leave it to me to show up too early on what could be a life-changing night. I had probably gotten the time wrong in between all my fretting about the baby. “I’ll come back later. I must have the time wrong…”

“Marko. Stephen’s husband.”

My eyes popped up to meet Marko’s. For some reason, I hadn’t put two and two together until now. In my mind, Marko had been this tall, handsome alpha who stole both men and women’s breath away with his sheer confidence and unapproachableness. Then again, I had no idea where that version of the man before me came from, but it was so wrong in the very best of ways.

Marko was much more approachable in his true life version than anything I had dreamed up.

Suddenly, my nerves vanquished.

I had this. I could do this.

For the baby. And for myself.

“Your timing is perfect,” Marko continued with a conspiratorial wink. “Jake said you were a brilliant artist and I simply must show your work.” That sounded like my son all right.

“He may be a bit biased,” I admitted truthfully with a shrug.

“True, but he has a great eye, so I trust his bias.”

In that, Marko wasn’t wrong. Jake had never taken up creating art in the same fashion I had, but he always saw the art around him, even where it was unintentional.

“I keep trying to snag him from all that computer mumbo jumbo,” I said, “but you know kids with all their practical dreams of actual careers.”

And I was talking nonsense.

Marko shrugged his shoulders before signaling for me to follow him. “Did you bring anything to show me?”

“Sort of.”

We stopped in front of a display with amazing lighting, so I took that as a sign to whip out my thumb drive, not that it would do any good there without a computer. Marko must have assumed I brought my portfolio along. Might as well show the drive in the best light, right?

“I took some pictures and put them on a stick drive,” I told Marko. “Hardly professional by any means, but they will give you an idea of what my work is like. I’m not what you would call traditional.”

I held the drive out automatically, and Marko gladly took it before starting to walk again, this time straight toward the reception desk.

“Most excellent,” he said without turning around. “I personally find ‘traditional’ boring.” He turned his head and called to the receptionist who, until then, I hadn’t noticed before. “Marjorie, please man the fort. I’ll be in the office with Mr. Rhodes.”

“Ethan is fine,” I said as we walked into the small office adjacent to the desk.

Marko grinned. “Well, Ethan, let’s have a look, shall we?”

He put the thumb drive into his machine, and I all but held my breath waiting for the files to load. This was my big chance, and the only thing that could make or break it was the talent and vision I had put into my work.

It felt so raw.

I had never felt more alive.

“Wait.” Marko’s head turned to me before all of the pictures had even loaded completely. “Are you Ethan Taylor?”

“Yes? I mean I was.” How did that come up? I hadn’t gone by that name in an entire lifetime—Jake’s lifetime, to be more specific.

“The Ethan Taylor?” Marko pressed.

I shrugged, not knowing how to respond to that. Surely there were plenty of Ethan Taylors, right? Or had my past come up as part of Rhys’s past? How embarrassing that would be. Not that we had done anything wrong, but still, if it came up, my past relationship with Rhys impacted Marko’s current husband’s last marriage.

I wondered that Jake had said to him. Maybe my past with Rhys hadn’t come up until just now when Marko put two and two together. Just like I did.

I was spiraling into worries I shouldn’t have, so I nearly jumped out of my skin when Marko’s hand touched mine, grounding me. “But of course you are. I thought you stopped painting.”

“Wait, what?” Painting? That wasn’t at all what I thought this had been about. “How do you know about me?”

“I’ve seen and tried desperately to buy two of your pieces. When I was turned down very firmly, I looked for more and never found any, so I assumed… well, nevermind.”

Marko shooed the thought away with a swish of his hand, as if none of it had any necessity. I begged to disagree, because at no point in time had I guessed my paintings were anywhere, except possibly someone’s basement game room.

“When can you do a show?” Marko pressed. “Name a month, and we will make it happen.”

“Wait. I don’t understand. Where were my paintings? Which ones?”

Marko began to type away on his machine before pulling up two pictures. Sure as the day is long, they were mine, with an estimated value slapped across them, the numbers of which floored me. There was no way my pictures were worth that… except they were, since someone paid for them. “Here… these are them.”

“And where are they now?” Not that Marko would know, but maybe since he tried to buy it, he did. And at this point, I’d already asked, so who cared?

“That’s from Rhys’s collection.” Marko pointed to a new picture I had somehow not noticed was pulled up. Sitting next to my painting was a Rembrandt.

A freaking Rembrandt.

“But that’s a Rembrandt next to it.” I pointed to the spot on the screen as if the owner of a prestigious art gallery didn’t know which painting I was talking about.

“Indeed it is.”

“But my painting is next to a Rembrandt.” My voice gave away the awe I felt. My painting was next to a Rembrandt. Rhys’s Rembrandt, so I had an edge up in the matter, but a Rembrandt still the same.

Somewhere in that big house I’d spent the night in, my paintings were hanging next to a Rembrandt. And if I hadn’t been in such a hurry to leave, I might have been able to see it.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“They are.” Marko clicked a second picture and sure enough, the second painting was sitting on the other side of the Rembrandt.

This could not be reality.

It just couldn’t.

“I saw your work in his conference room,” I babbled, hoping to move the conversation past the one I really needed to be having with Rhys. How had he gotten my paintings, and did he really pay those insane prices? If so, that was another whole why question unto itself.

On top of being pregnant with his child.

Oh my goodness, this was going to be quite the chat I’d have to have with Rhys. So many things to talk about and I didn’t even have a phone number for him.

“I heard,” Marko said with a nod. “A little birdie told me you were a fan.”

Jake.

Jake has gone and spilled the beans that I’d been gobsmacked by Marko’s work.

“It was breathtaking,” I said. “The layers. I could have spent an hour there just exploring the details.” I knew I sounded as amateur as I felt, but the piece had hit me so profoundly, I couldn’t stop himself.

“Jake and Stephen told me that Rhys said you liked it.”

I just shook his head at the entire sequence of events. Today turned out not at all as I had envisioned.

First, I found out I was pregnant. Second, I found out that I had a fan. Who was a great artist in his own right.

Marko grinned. “I’m humbled by your appraisal. It’s my favorite piece.”

I could have sworn I saw the man blush. Interesting.

“I can see why,” I agreed.

“No, not because of that.” And that was when his blush deepened. It was adorable. “It brought me my Stephen.”

“Love,” I all but sighed. “The very best reason there is.”

“You’re as sappy as Rhys,” Marko faux-scolded before retrieving my thumb drive and shutting down his machine.

“Thanks?” I couldn’t help my grin through, and Marko matched mine.

“Dad, are you back here?” Jake called, startling us both.

“We’re here, Jake,” we both responded at the same time, causing both of us to chuckle. What an odd meeting this was.

“I’m not interrupting, am I?” Jake came busting in, carrying a few small bags.

“Absolutely not,” Marko brushed his concern away as I now saw was his habit. “Did you get me the new cords?”

“Three stores, but I got them.” Jake handed the bags to Marko.

“Excellent. I need to go and get the tech working. It was great meeting you, Ethan.”

“You too.”

Marko flitted out before I finished saying good-bye. The night of a gallery opening must be really busy when you’re the owner. I couldn’t believe that Marko liked my work. No, not just liked.

Had desperately tried to buy. At ridiculous prices.

“Soooooo …” Jake so nonchalantly nudged.

“So, it went really well,” I answered. “He likes my work.”

At that, I finally let out the big grin that I had wanted to give for the last fifteen minutes. I felt fantastic. Marko loved my work. Rhys somehow owned a bit of me, even though we hadn’t seen each other in years. How he got to own those paintings, I would figure out later, but for now, I was going to live on the high that having your work hanging next to a Rembrandt brings.

No, scratch that. The high having your painting hanging in the collection of your first love brings.

Your first love who was also the father of your unborn baby. My hand went protectively to my stomach, but Jake didn’t notice then, as he was too exuberant at the meeting with Marko.

“I knew he would.” Jake reached out and hugged me. “Ready to go mingle?”

“Absolutely.”

I’d have to avoid champagne without drawing too much attention as to why, I reminded myself. Hopefully that wouldn’t be a question that would come up.

Hopefully I could pull this off.