“Everyone, quiet! They’re about to announce the results,” I said, a little short of breath.

These days, I was on the brink of bursting wide open. Anyway, it felt like that. I felt a little nostalgic too, and sometimes, a wave of sadness would hit me out of nowhere.

The pregnancy was something that became a part of my new identity. That was something that was a little difficult to explain to anyone who wasn’t an omega. They couldn’t understand. But when your baby is connected to you in so many ways, you don’t want to have to change again.

The realization hit me a few weeks ago. I was going to give birth very soon, and once I did, the process would be over. Of course, I was excited and ready to be a father. The negative feelings weren’t about that. I just loved the whole pregnancy.

I looked down at my beautiful stomach and trickled my fingers across the tight skin. It felt right. It seemed so incredible to me. The body was such a glorious thing. I was also going to miss Tate’s tender affections, and the way he nearly always held my womb, but I knew what was coming after would be perfect.

My fiancé sat between Rowan and me, anxiously staring at the television screen. We didn’t have a fancy arena booked to celebrate the election results. We didn’t even lock in a stage at a nice hotel. That wasn’t the kind of guy Tate was. We wanted to view the election results at home, with our family and friends.

About a month ago, Tate humbly walked out to the front porch with Rowan. They picked up the toolbox and some pieces of wood and went to work on building their own stage. “The stage of the people,” as they called it.

Tate had made a promise to himself. If he became mayor of this town, he would do the job with honor and respect. He’d be Tate Highland, the happy husband of Elliot Marie. Tate would be the guy people could actually rely on.

No false promises. None of the BS. Our family was going to tell the truth and be on the right side of history.

That kind of idea had to start from the ground up, so they built their own stage. We used our house as the center of our campaign. Everything funneled back to the town itself. We were creating something better.

“We already know the results, dad,” Rowan remarked with a smile.

I smiled. “I know, but I want to hear them announced anyway,” I said.

First, the news broke on every station in the county. “Corruption at the highest levels,” reporters claimed. They showed the surveillance videos with Sid and the envelope of money. They interviewed Tate about the state of the Watson County. Every corrupt man in the county was arrested in one giant sting operation.

The story picked up steam. Soon enough, it was all over the internet. Every streaming site in the world showed the images of Sid Carwell, as federal authorities led them into their jail cells. It destroyed his father’s campaign.

But we hadn’t won yet. Tate shook his head as he watched the poll numbers shine across the screen. “Don’t be so sure we’ve won,” Tate said. “Sasha never dropped out of the race. He has loyal support from his base. I’m just the new guy.”

The polls on the television screen didn’t look favorable at all, but they weren’t terrible either. “The odds are fifty-forty,” Tate whispered.

“I can’t believe it,” Elliot said, “It is so obvious who should win this.”

All three of us glanced out of the window toward the front yard. A large crowd had gathered near the lake to wait for Tate’s long speech.

“Well, whatever happens, you at least tried,” I said. “If you didn’t try, you could say that you failed. But you gave this your all.”

Tate smiled and nodded, lifting his arms around both of our shoulders. “You’re right. If I lose this, I still have the best gifts in the world.”

I smiled, but when I felt a quick popping sensation, I jumped off of the couch and threw my hands over my mouth. I looked down at the wet carpet.

“Baby! Your water…” Tate whispered.

All I could do was nod with my eyes jolted open.

Tate jumped over the coffee table and picked me up into his arms. He ran me outside, waving to Rowan to follow. But when we were standing on the outside stage, the crowd was staring and waiting for a speech.

The people started to clap and cheer for Tate Highland, mayor of Watson County. Tate walked with me in his arms toward the microphone. “Um, hi,” Tate said, as the speakers echoed. “We actually didn’t come out here to give any speech. The results are still coming in…”

Someone in the audience let out a loud cheer. “You’re going to crush Sasha Carwell!”

“No, I’m serious, everyone. My omega, Elliot… well…” Tate stuttered his words.

“Just tell them, dammit!” I said, breathing in rapidly.

“My fiancé’s water just broke, so now I have to make a quick detour to the hospital. I’m sorry, but I won’t be here for the next day or two. I need to be there for my lover,” Tate said.

Even though my water just broke, I still had a sense of humor. The whole situation was just too comedic for me not to laugh. The crowd cleared the way, and our family piled in the old car.

“Jesus,” Tate muttered, putting the car in reverse. “The timing on this thing!”

Tate held my hand, even while driving out to the highway. I wasn’t in that much pain, but the pressure inside of me definitely felt… off. For that ten-minute car ride, I just closed my eyes and pictured all of the good things in my life.

I thought about the first time I saw Tate smile and blush. I remembered first meeting Rowan and how sweet he was to me. And then I thought about what our new baby would do for us. I was so full of fear, but I was also completely overjoyed.

Tate and Rowan rushed me into the hospital, as I tried my best to put myself at peace. Of course, peace never comes in the form you expect it to. We met with a nurse in the front reception area, whom, after searching the computer and phoning another wing of the hospital, confirmed that our doctor was on vacation for another two days.

Two days. Fuck. Our beloved doctor, the guy who told us not to worry about everything, was now gone. “But don’t worry,” the receptionist said with a smile. “We have doctor Grant here, and he’s very nice.”

“Nice?” Tate growled. “Do we look like we need nice?”

“Well, I—” Tate cut off the receptionist, yet again.

“No, we need someone who we trust!” Tate’s voice rose. I carefully watched his fingers tap quickly against the counter. “We want our damn doctor!”

Rowan tugged on his dad’s shirt. Tate turned around angrily, but immediately calmed down when he saw his son’s face. “Dad, please. They know what they’re doing. I know you’re stressed, but look at Elliot,” Rowan said.

I must have looked downright frightening because Tate immediately backed down. “Are you okay with this?” he asked me.

I nodded quickly. “I don’t care, dammit. I just want to talk to a real doctor,” I said.

Tate apologized to the receptionist, who then, in turn, called the doctor. We were escorted into a safe room, but not before being accosted by press near the lobby.

“Tate Highland! They’re about to call the election results. Do you have anything to say to your opponent?” A reporter asked. A group of five or so pointed their microphones against Tate’s mouth.

“Yeah, I do, actually,” Tate said with a slight smile. “I want to say that I love my family, and they always come first. My omega here is having a baby. The results can wait.”

Rowan blocked the cameramen. “No more questions, please! The future mayor of Watson County would like to spend the rest of this time with his family. Thank you!”

Rowan had to wait in the lobby because of hospital policy. Plus, I didn’t really want him seeing what really went on behind these doors because it was not the prettiest sight.

Doctor Grant introduced himself to us, and as soon as I saw him, I felt completely relieved. He was a docile, younger man, most likely in his mid-thirties. He was clean cut, and his presence was warm.

“I know I’m not your primary doctor, but I’ve been doing this for seven years now,” he said.

Tate eyed him carefully. “How many accidents? He asked.

“Zero, actually,” the doctor replied.

Tate scratched the back of his head and took a deep breath. “Jeez, I’m sorry Doctor Grant. I’m just a little stressed, I guess,” Tate said.

“Don’t worry.” The doctor laughed. “You’re about to become a father and a mayor. I know I voted for you.”

“Just make my omega feel safe and comfortable. That’s all I ask,” Tate said. “And thank you for sticking with us. It means the world to us.’

“I’ll give this my all,” the doctor responded.

Doctor Grant checked me out, alongside his nurses. The whole pregnancy had been invasive in so many different ways that none of this seemed all that bad.

“This baby is coming faster than expected, but we still have some time for the pain medicine if you want it,” the doctor said. “It’s not specified in the system, or in any of the doctor’s notes, so it’s up to you.”

The pain was starting to increase. I gripped Tate’s hand. I could taste the perspiration on my lips. The sterile smell of the hospital room turned my mind hazy. But even with all of this coming at me, I had made up my mind.

“No,” I said. “I’m going to do this without any drugs today.”

Both Tate and the doctor looked at me with surprise. “You’re… sure?” the doctor asked. “You know, it’s not a big deal. It won’t harm the baby.”

“I know,” I said. “But I want to be as present as I can.”

Tate leaned down and whispered, “Baby, this is what you really want? It’s not going to be a fun time.”

“Tate, life has been hard for us. We’ve gone through hell and back. Do you really think I won’t be able to survive if I don’t take away the physical pain of this? No, I want to do this without the drugs,” I said.

The answer came to me in that hospital room. I was going to go through all of the hell, but at the end of this road, I was going to hold, feel, and hear my baby. That in itself was a pain reliever.

“Well. Okay,” the doctor said, biting the inside of his cheeks. “We’ll get everything set up then.”

The whole process took hours, but time didn’t really feel the same as it usually did. Each minute that passed felt like days, even years. At the same time, each minute felt like a second.

When you’re going through labor, nothing else matters except getting your baby out safely. Everyone told me to breathe, to just keep breathing. That was the main advice. Oh, and to hold your husband’s hand.

While all of that helped, there was only one cure for me, and Tate knew precisely what it was. “Think of every good memory you have ever had,” Tate whispered. “Picture those happy moments. Everything bad will pass, but those moments are forever.”

“I believe that,” I said. Strangely, my voice was calm.

Then, it all hit me. My baby was coming, and he was coming fast. “Push!” Doctor Grant said.

I held onto Tate’s hand and pushed with all of my might. Throughout it all, I kept thinking about every good memory with Tate and Rowan. I thought about how I grew up, and how every single moment led to this one decision to have a baby with the man standing behind me, comforting me whenever he was able.

Life was so miraculous and beautiful. On the outside, it felt like pure luck, but once you zoomed out a little bit, you could see how the whole puzzle fit together. There was no chaos, nor was there darkness. There was a slew of all colors, shapes, and outcomes. And all outcomes led to Griffin, our baby.

“Push!”

The crying started. Tears poured down my face as the stress and pressure became insurmountable. The voice in my head was angry. “You should have taken the drugs, dammit!”

I couldn’t stop the tears or my loud crying. When I opened my eyes, however, I realized that what I was hearing was not my own cries. It was…

“Griffin,” Tate whispered. “It’s Griffin, daddy. Look.”

Shaking and a blundering mess, Tate cut the umbilical cord. The nurses cleaned Griffin’s body off carefully. The doctor made sure everything was safe before we could hold our baby. And then they left us to finally start our family.

Griffin was eight pounds and three ounces. He was a wriggling pink baby with the loud cry of a banshee. He was as beautiful as any baby could be.

Tate set Griffin in my arms, and he quickly stopped his short cries. He latched onto me, and his face took a different turn.

Our eyes met. I couldn’t explain the feeling, but I could try. It was something akin to the Big Bang, only a million times more profound. His eyes glowed, reflecting the entire universe. I couldn’t stop staring into them, and the happiness that I felt was pure.

“Tate,” I said, crying. “I know him. I’ve known him my entire life.”

Tate lowered his body next to the bed. “What do you mean, darling?”

“Griffin’s eyes. He has the same eyes as my father,” I said.

Tate’s mouth hung open slightly. “My gosh. He does!”

We both kissed our baby’s cheeks, head, and body. The love we felt was so inescapable, so palatable and real, that we couldn’t resist showering him with it. As exhausted as I was, I wanted to stay awake every hour talking to Griffin.

Rowan finally entered the room, holding a bouquet of flowers. He stopped walking, and he stood rigidly by the blue metal doors. He dropped the bouquet, soundlessly, and pointed.

“That’s… that’s…” Rowan turned around and walked out of the room.

Tate chuckled. “He’s trying his best not to cry,” Tate said.

Rowan walked back in. His shirt was soaking wet from trying to dry his tears. “My brother,” he said. “Hi, Griffin.”

The four of us together felt strong. It was stronger than anything the police department had. Our bond was more resilient than any small town criminal like Sid. We could take on anything, and today we proved that.

“You won, dad,” Rowan whispered. “You’re the mayor of Watson County.”

“Come here, son,” Tate said with a smile. “We’ll talk about that later. Right now, all I want is us.”