Page 32 of Not Ready

Our government really should do more, but sadly, outside of the corrupt OPA, they leave it all up to the family pack to ensure the safety of their omega children. To those of us not born into a pack, it leaves us at a disadvantage in life.

“Right, but you aren’t getting rid of me. I want you and the baby with me from here on out.” Sincerity echoes in his words.

My eyes fall shut. “I don’t want to apologize for getting pregnant. Mostly because I can’t regret her. I’m far too attached for all that, but God…” My voice breaks. “I was so afraid to tell you about Aurora?—”

“You picked a name?” he asks.

I nod. “Yeah.”

“It’s beautiful.”

“Thank you, but I need to get this out. I don’t even know what I’m saying. Everyone warned me over and over again not to get attached to you, but I already was. Then again, it was only a digital relationship, and we never had any conversations about exclusivity?—”

He cuts me off, saying, “Gorgeous, enough. You don’t owe me any explanations.”

My head tilts as something I should’ve thought of long ago crosses my mind. “You’re single, right?”

He swats my ass kinda hard, and I squeak.

“I was very single until I asked you if you’d be open to courting. No recent exes. I’ve been focused on you and work for so long.” His head shakes. “No. Anything else you’d like to know?”

“The courting thing means our relationship will be real, but for the others, it’s just for show?”

“You’ll have to speak to Mercer, but I’d warn you that he’s very analytical and often comes off as cold and disinterested in, well, everything. That’s just advice, because I know you’ll be interacting with him as well. He’s very blunt. Don’t let it hurt your feelings. He has no tact, but he is a good man.” He smiles, shaking his head. Those little crinkles appear, and it makes me think he’s recalling a memory that he’s not sharing. “Holt is a good friend. Loyal to a fault. I’ll put it this way—I wouldn’t be upset if you decided to build relationships with them. They’re as close to packmates as I’ve found, but I wouldn’t feel comfortable speaking for either one of them. I know how I feel about you and where I stand, but the omega builds their pack. If you three don’t click, then once Aurora is born, we can go from there.” Hearing him say her name and being so sure about the future makes me emotional. “Now, come on. This carpeting is hard as shit. It’s killing my old-man hips. How do you feel about moving to my bed?”

“Yeah, let’s do it. To be honest, I may need a little help getting up.”

“Aww, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

Chapter Thirteen

Mercer

I’m not sure I’ve ever suffered indigestion to the level I’ve experienced since Vale came to stay with us. Perhaps that’s why I’m trying to recreate my mother’s warm milk and honey tea recipe.

It’s that late hour when the house is completely quiet. I believe Holt is in the gym, but I haven’t seen Vale or Bishop since much earlier this evening.

I’m bent over in the pantry, trying to locate the damn honey, when I hear the fridge open and close. My faith that Holt will go along with my outlandish proposal is currently very low. Essentially, I’ll believe it when the forms are filled out and fully submitted.

An adorable little squeak fills the air behind me. The back of my head slams into the shelf above the one I’ve been browsing as I stand and turn around.

Vale is in a pair of cotton long-john pajamas with yellow rubber ducks in various patterns. The set likely fit prior to her pregnancy, or possibly during the early months, but several inches of the bottom of her stomach escapes the confines of the material.

“Looking for a midnight snack?” I ask.

She gives a nod, making her long waves fall around her shoulders. “I woke up starving.”

I chuckle and gesture to the overly stocked pantry. “Anything in particular you’re craving?”

“Do you have peanut butter? And maybe some crackers? I’d kill for a chocolate peanut butter cup candy, but I know that’s probably a long shot.”

I wave a hand for her to come in and close the door enough to access the shelf that’s blocked when it’s open. “It looks like we have whipped peanut butter, no sugar added, and someone has extra crunchy honey roasted. Do you have a preference?”

“The creamy one, please,” she says, pulling at the bottom of her shirt. It does succeed in covering her lower stomach, but her breasts pop out the top. I grab the jar she asked for, spin around, and aim for the bread and crackers.

“Honey wheat or something that sounds truly awful—cheesy garlic parmesan.”

“Honey wheat is perfect.” She laughs. “Yeah, I avoid anything with garlic these days. The heartburn isn’t worth it.”

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