Page 44 of Wrong Number, Right Unicorn

On the drive home, Errol cradled his belly and asked how I could introduce our child to the big wide world if they were a unicorn shifter.

“I’ll lead by example and guide them to trust their instinct.”

We entered the house and were confronted with the mess we’d left behind, but after shifting, I was energized and told my mate to relax while I set a timer and went through each item before putting most of it in the garbage.

“We’re starting a new chapter.” Errol was in bed reading when I crawled in beside him. “Not only us as a couple with a baby on the way and a new home, but you and your unicorn too.”

Being in a different house, one that was ours rather than what I’d inherited, was exciting but tinged with sadness at saying goodbye to the home I’d shared with my grandfather. But I was looking forward, not back.

Except for one thing; the landline.

Transferring the number to the new place was proving to be more difficult than I imagined. But this was non-negotiable.

Someone, not a mate but a stranger in trouble, might call in the middle of the night, needing help, and I wanted to be able to give it to them.

Chapter 21

Errol

Everything went really quickly after we put an offer on the house. Davien’s house sold remarkably fast, and as soon as that closing happened, we were able to close on ours. There were a few things that had to be done before we could move in—painting, a couple of electrical updates, a new sink—nothing too big. And since we both sold our houses and his home had been mortgage-free, we were able to cover all the costs without going into debt.

We were starting life in the perfect way financially, which was amazing because it wasn’t too long ago that I was borrowing $500 to bail my grandmother out. It was hard to believe how different things were in just a few short months. Thank gods for a wrong phone number.

Today, we began moving in. Between me being pregnant and our items in multiple places, we were moving in chunks. First, we emptied the pod and got all the furniture into place—kitchen items and things we hadn’t used in months were in boxes in their corresponding rooms. That part was pretty easy since everything had been ready to go.

The hard part came with the things we had at Grams’s house. It wasn’t a case of moving things out of storage and inside. We needed to decide what to pack from her place, what to leave there, and what to get rid of. From there, we needed to pack, carry them next door, and put her things back in place. She insisted on helping, which actually slowed things down a bit, but that was okay because she was happy. My mate was happy. I was happy. And honestly, at this stage in my pregnancy, I couldn’t really do as much as I wanted, and it was nice to feel like I didn’t have to.

We planned to stay at Grams’s house again that night because there was no way we were going to get everything unpacked and ready to go in one day. I was glad for that—it took a lot of stress off my shoulders, and after the long day we had, I fell asleep almost instantly.

The next morning when I woke up, I was all alone. My mate wasn’t in my bed, and when I wandered through the house, Grams was MIA, too. There was a sticky note on the microwave letting me know that one of them had made me breakfast. It was super sweet and also told me not to rush.

Normally, I would’ve been like, “Nope, I can do this,” and hurried over to the house, but the day before had worn me out. Muscles I didn’t know I had hurt, and I could still use another hour of sleep.

I took a shower to help wake me up, ate my French toast, and then waddled over. I wasn’t fully in the “waddle stage” of pregnancy yet, but I sure felt like it. My pre-pregnancy pants had stopped fitting already, and as often as I could, I donned my mate’s sweatpants and an oversized hoodie that was three sizes larger than I usually wore. When I was at work, I wore paternity clothes, of course, but they flew off the second I gothome. If I was going to grow an entire being, I was going to be as comfortable as I could.

“I’m home,” I called as I walked through the front door, surprised to see that the living room was already completely put together—lamps, curtains, everything.

“You guys have been busy,” I said, but no one answered. “Guess it’s hide-and-seek time.”

It took me a bit to find them. They were upstairs, putting a handlebar up in the bathroom.

“What’s that for?” It was one of those grab bars, the kind you hold onto when you’re older or have mobility issues. No one here fit that bill, not even Grams.

“Oh, you’re going to thank me,” Grams said. “In another month, maybe two, you’re not going to want to climb over into this tub. It’s extra deep.”

She was right. It was one of many things we loved about the house. The downstairs shower was in a shallow tub. It would be fine for giving our baby a bath and for showering, but it was useless for adults who wanted to soak away a hard day. This one, however, you could sink into it, have the water cover you, and just relax. I was really looking forward to it.

I didn’t argue with her that the bar was not needed, because at the rate I was growing, she might be right.

“Guys, what time did you get up?” They had accomplished so much while I only managed to eat French toast and bathe.

“I take the fifth,” Grams said, which meant it was before dawn.

“You didn’t need to do that, you know. I can help.”

“I don’t need to do anything,” she said, planting her fists on her hips. “I wanted to. Now come see what I did to your bedroom.”

There was no arguing with her, so I took my mate’s hand, and we followed her. Davien and I had purchased new furniture for the bedroom. Even though we each had our own beds before, it just felt better to get something that was ours. The last time I had been in the room, it felt almost like a hotel room—but not anymore.

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