It wasn't a life like anything I’d ever planned for, but except for the hours spent trapped in the apartment by myself, it wasn’t really any different than it would have been if I’d been a stay-at-home type of omega.

Damian came to stay as often as he could. We started looking at houses online and I quickly grew obsessed with the relative merits of granite countertops versus spending that money on a fancier bathroom, while Damian egged me on and laughed at the reams of notes I was taking.

For the first two weeks, I jumped him every time he came through the door and we spent most of our waking time working through my repertoire of skills from Silver, until I knew exactly what I needed to do in any situation to bring him to his knees before me.

As the end of my pregnancy grew nearer, though, our bedroom antics had to slow down. I developed a pinch of some sort in my back that would drop me to the floor. Shortly after that, my body discovered the joy of naps. Anywhere. At any time. Basically, whenever I stayed still for more than two minutes.

I hoped it wasn't trying to tell me something.

One evening, on the third delightful night in a row that we'd managed to scrape together, there was a knock on the door. I tensed, but Damian patted my shoulder and shook his head. "Oscar said he'd probably drop in. Sorry, I should have mentioned it."

I sighed. We'd been wonderfully Oscar-free for the past three weeks—I should have guessed it wouldn't last. "I'm not moving," I said. I was stretched out on the couch with my head in Damian's lap while I showed him the houses I'd found and we'd squabbled about which ones we wanted to go see first once the baby was here.

"I have to go let him in. I hit the maglock."

"Ugh." I lifted my head and let him get up, cursing his forethought. While he crossed the room to let my nemesis inside, I stared at the ceiling and debated whether I needed to get up with an offer of tea. Damn. It was only polite, so I swung my legs off the couch and started the long, awkward process of getting me and my massive belly vertical again.

"I thought you weren't moving," Damian said with a tongue-click of disapproval.

"I'm going to put tea on."

"Oh, okay."

Oscar grabbed a chair in the kitchen, spun it around and straddled it backwards. "I'm surprised you don't have Damian waiting on you hand and foot," he said. "I know our women usually do by this point in a pregnancy."

I threw him a look and he grinned. "I'm pregnant," I said pointedly. "Not disabled. I can make a pot of tea." But as I reached up to get the tin of teabags down, my womb tightened up in one of those random contractions that had been happening more and more often lately.

Oscar was at my side in an instant, almost shouldering Damian out of the way. I swatted his hands off me. "I'm fine!" I insisted. "This has been going on for days."

"You didn't say anything to me!" Damian said, his tone hurt.

"It's not labor. Not yet. Just getting in shape for it." The contraction let off and I went about my business like usual and soon had mugs of tea in front of us all. "Cookies, anyone?" I asked brightly. "They go good with the tea." I didn't wait for an answer, just got down a plate and arranged a half-dozen of the little beige circles on it. "Sit, Damian," I told him fondly. "Really, it's okay." I pushed him down onto a chair and put his tea in front of him, then plopped down into the chair closest to his end of the table.

Oscar played with the handle of his mug but didn't drink. "That's something we're going to have to figure out," he said to me. "Where are you planning to be for the birth?"

I stared at him blankly. Honestly, I hadn't even thought about it. "I don't know. Here, I guess." Where else would I go?"

Oscar looked over at Damian. "You want your husband here on his own having this baby?"

"No." Damian frowned down into his tea. "Can he go back to Nevada Ashes? Or to your friend?"

"Nevada Ashes is probably out. Quin... I'll see. Probably." He shot me a stern glance. "If I get the shit kicked out of me again over this, I may start to rethink this arrangement."

I gazed at him calmly. "Don't worry, I'll protect you."

"Salem!" Damian hissed, but Oscar was laughing as he pulled out his phone.

"Yeah, you got yourself a spitfire there. I don't envy you at all."

Damian sent me an exasperated look, but grinned over at Oscar. "Oh, I don't know. He has his moments."

I punched him in the side, making Oscar shake his head as he spoke to whoever it was on the other end of the line. I ignored him and fed Damian a cookie dipped in tea. Whatever happened, I'd have to deal with it. Though I couldn't deny that knowing the baby was coming soon was making me a little apprehensive. Or that I'd be damned to the Barrenlands before I let Damian know I was worried.

"It'll be fine," Damian whispered. "You've got me." He kissed my forehead. "I helped raise all my brothers and sisters, so I know a thing or two."

I took some comfort from that, but if he thought we were raising our pups Montana Border style, he had another think coming.

Oscar turned back to the table. "Mercy Hills has a house in Memphis, you can stay there until the baby comes. We'll have to get you paperwork for it, too, I suppose." He sounded disgruntled, and I cheered silently inside, though I kept my expression serious. He was helping us out.

Which meant... I suppressed a sigh. "Thank you, Oscar. I know it's been a lot of trouble for you."

Oscar and Damian exchanged glances, then Oscar shook his head and got to his feet. "Well, I kind of did set the whole thing in motion. Though, if you—" He pointed at Damian. "—had half an ounce of sense, you would have wrapped your dick before sticking it in him."

My cheeks went bright red, all my good intentions gone, but Damian got up and manhandled Oscar to the door before I could let fly on him. It would have soothed my now cranky soul if Damian had been angry, but it sounded more like the half-aggressive joking that alphas got up to when they really liked each other.

What an odd thought. I watched them more closely as they spoke in the doorway. He does like Oscar. As much as possible, since Oscar's a human. But if Oscar was a shifter, they'd be really close, I'd bet. That put a new spin on things—I was going to have to rethink how I behaved toward Oscar in the future. I might not understand the relationship, but I had to respect it.

My womb tightened again and then relaxed. I hoped I was right about this just being practice. There really didn't seem to be much direction in them.

Damian came back from locking the door behind Oscar and went to one knee in front of me. “Do you want to go back to Nevada Ashes? We can make it happen. Oscar is a genius at getting the guys who make the decisions to go along with whatever he wants.”

I reached for his hands and spread them out on my belly, a sweet little habit we’d developed in the short time we’d had together. “No, it’s okay. It would be nice to have Ma there, but she’s not expecting me to come back for this. We can send her pictures, or maybe…” I hesitated to ask, but he turned his hands over and gripped mine in encouragement, almost as if he knew what was on my mind. “I’d like to take the pup to meet my family sometime, if it can be arranged. I know it might not be possible, but…” I bit off the rest of the sentence as too sad and bitter a thing for me to toss into the space between us. We’d both made the best choices we could; I thought we’d done pretty well, under the circumstances. “Anyway, that’s for the future.” I eyed him speculatively. “Since you’re staying here tonight.”

He shook his head, already knowing what I was hinting at. “Go lie down on the couch, I’ll get the massage oil.”

I leaned in to kiss him. “Thank you. I promise I’ll do you later.”

“I don’t need a massage,” he said, pulling me up to my feet.

I turned on my public house expression and freed one hand so I could grab a good handful of his fantastic ass. “Who said anything about massage?” And then I sauntered away, the heel of one hand jammed in my mouth so he wouldn’t hear me giggling.