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“Or it’s just enough,” he said, pressing the envelope back at me. “You two have a great time.”

It took every ounce of my self-restraint not to huff and grumble about stupid, sexy Chance hugging Arlo and giving him extravagant gifts. Arlo always refused to let me spoil him like that. Why was Chance allowed to do it?

After the presents were finished and Arlo was busy eating his third plate of lunch, I headed for the bar to pour myself a drink. Chance came over and leaned against the counter next to me where I was sulking over my glass of scotch. I glared at all his ink on display. He had the whole bad-boy vibe down pat. At least I’d put on enough muscle to compete with his bulk. Arlo sure had no complaints.

“I’m not his type, you know,” he said, too quietly to be overheard.

I shot him a look, not needing to ask what he was talking about. It was obvious. “No? But he’s your type, isn’t he.”

He shrugged, not denying it. “I think we can both agree, Arlo is pretty special. You can’t blame me for seeing that.” He grabbed the bottle and poured himself a glass. “But you never have to worry. I don’t want a man who doesn’t want me.” He held his glass out, and I slowly brought mine up to tap his.

I didn’t know Chance well, and I didn’t trust him at his word. But I trusted Arlo.

Someone turned some music on, and I turned around to find Cass up on stage. He was beckoning Arlo, and while I watched, my omega climbed up on the stage with his best friend, and the two of them began to dance. It wasn’t overtly sexy, their clothing stayed on—his grandmother and mother-in-law were here, after all—but there was no stopping the way my body reacted to the love of my life. His smile was so bright as he danced, his stomach out in front. When he caught me watching him, he gave me a wink.

I couldn’t wait to get home to try out those presents…

21

Arlo

Typically, spring was the season for change. The snow melted, green buds appeared on trees, and just like the flowers beginning to bloom, so did my burgeoning stomach. Seriously, it was massive, and I wasn’t even one of those omegas who still looked skinny except for their baby belly. I “blossomed” all over. My ankles and calves swelled up, my fingers seemed to turn into little sausages, and there was a lot more junk in my trunk than I was used to.

Lucky for me, Max seemed to appreciate that last one particularly…

When filming had wrapped up on The Forgotten Blue, Max had put everything on hold. He refused to take another job so close to my delivery date. I was particularly enjoying having him at my beck and call 24/7, but I knew it was too good to last. Eventually, the baby would arrive, and that was when the real fun would begin.

For at least one more day, though, we would pretend we were young and hot, painting the town red.

Tonight was the red-carpet gala for the release of Uncaged. I was too pregnant to fly, so the director had suggested a local theater for the venue. They knew how important I was to Max and that he wouldn’t want to leave me at home. That was the amazing thing about working with a small production company. Sure, their budget was likewise small, but it was like a family. They cared about each and every person who worked on their cast and crew. No, Max wasn’t making as much money as he used to, but he said he actually preferred it this way. He was learning to live a more modest lifestyle.

I stood in front of the full-length mirror and attempted to smooth the white fabric over my stomach. My shirt seemed determined to be untucked no matter what I did, so I hiked my fancy black paternity pants up even higher. “Does this make me look fat?” I asked Max, turning to the left, then right. I couldn’t even fit my whole body into the mirror’s reflection. The shadow under my massive belly extended all the way down to my feet.

Max, buttoning up his cufflinks, gave me a wary look. “Is there any answer I can give that will make you believe you’re not fat?”

“No, not really.” I sighed dramatically.

He came up behind me and rubbed my belly in slow, teasing circles, his fingertips like feathers, making goosebumps dance across my skin. “How about, when we get home tonight, I’ll make you some tea, rub your feet, then suck your cock until you forget all about it.”

“Ooh, that’s a good answer,” I purred, wiggling my ass back into his crotch. Maybe sex would induce labor, because man, I was so ready to evict this baby. Yes, pregnancy was beautiful, and the awe that was the creation of life, blah, blah, blah, but enough was enough. I wanted my body back.

We were running late, so the limo was outside waiting for us when I eventually waddled my way down the front steps of our cute little bungalow. Max opened the car door and held out his hand to help me in. “I almost rented a horse-drawn carriage again,” he said, grinning, “but I thought that might be a bit over the top.”

“I probably wouldn’t have been able to get up the steps,” I said, groaning as I sat back on the seat. It took every ounce of energy I had just to drag my legs in through the door. My back was killing me, but at least the leather seat was cushy under my butt. “I’m really sorry if I fall asleep during the movie,” I said, knowing there was no “if” about it. It was happening.

“Don’t worry, precious. I’ll wake you up if you start snoring.”

“Or drooling,” I added. “That is not the kind of publicity you need.” He laughed but agreed, no drooling allowed.

It was only a short ten-minute drive to the artsy part of town, and it was a good thing, because I was starting to get a bit queasy in the back of the car. We pulled up at the curb, and someone opened the door for us. Max got out first, then turned and offered me a hand. I had to rock myself a little front and back to build up enough momentum, and I almost worried he would have to get someone else to push from behind. It was a good thing he’d put on all that muscle for his role in Uncaged.

I almost had to hold my hand up to shade my eyes from the glare of the lights. The fact that the premiere was being held at the local theater hadn’t seemed to affect the turnout at all. I’d never been to a red-carpet event, so it wasn’t like I had anything to compare it to, but this crowd seemed impressive. There were A-list actors dressed to the nines in tuxedos and gowns, plus a decent number of photographers and critics.

As much as I was already dying to sit down again, Max was the star, so we had to put in an appearance for the photographers. We smiled and waved, posed for pictures, but with each passing second, I was getting more and more uncomfortable. Max did the best he could, rubbing my lower back, but there was only so much he could do at this stage of my pregnancy. I kept shifting, swaying back and forth, gritting my teeth and groaning under my breath. My feet were so swollen, I had barely managed to squeeze into my shoes. I couldn’t stand for long periods of time, and I was just about at my limit. I needed to get in so I could find my seat.

But when Max gave a final wave and turned to usher me toward the entrance, a face in the crowd caught our attention. Patrick fucking Carson. Oh shit, this was not going to be good.

“Max—” I started, but it was too late. He was already headed for the paparazzi.

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