Page 33 of Wrong Number, Right Santa

I set it down. “Sorry, I’m just… my mind’s back home.”

“It tends to be that way when you’re about to become a dad,” he said with a smile. “Why don’t you take the afternoon off? Go be with your mate.”

“Because I, quote, am ‘always underfoot.’”

“Are you?”

“Yes. I am.” And I’d be lying if I said that it would be different today. I wasn’t sure if it was the Santa side of me or the alpha side or even the father-to-be side, but something had me acting less rationally than normal. If it had been Dario acting this way, the elves would’ve called it hormones, but I didn’t have that excuse.

“It’s hard not to be. They say the omegas nest, but alphas? Alphas know when babies are coming too. They just react differently.” Ryfon spoke as if it were fact, and it probably was. Just not facts that I’d known, and hearing the words from him helped calm me. This was normal. Everything was normal. All was right in babyland.

“Thanks. Did you come in here for a reason or were checking up on me?” Ryfon had been picking up extra work, trying to help me get ahead so that when baby came, I could relax at home with my family. I appreciated him more than he could know.

“Yeah, there’s a new toy, one of the ones Sprinkles designed. He thinks it’s going to be the next biggest hit.”

“Excellent.” I stood up from my seat and walked around my desk, ready for the distraction. “I can’t wait to see it.”

And, as it turned out, Sprinkles actually had a really good idea, and we spent the next couple hours talking about logistics and how to fit it in with this year’s line-up on such short notice.

I went home, excited about the progress I’d made and ready to tell Dario all about it. I also had a box of cookies Wyn said my mate needed, along with a baby blanket that they had crocheted for our little one. I’d been expecting a lot of things when I got back. But not to hear my mate’s blood-curdling scream.

“Sugar plums!” His pain was palpable.

I dropped everything and ran into the room to see him hunched over, holding his belly.

“What’s wrong?” I rushed to his side.

“I thought it was those fake contractions, but this last one... I don’t think it is. I think it’s time to call the midwife.”

For our midwife, we had a reindeer shifter who lived at the North Pole with his mate. He was more doula than midwife, but Dario felt comfortable with him, and he was close by. It wasn’t as if we could randomly blink people up to the North Pole. They would notice the change in scenery for sure.

We did have a plan in place, if a doula turned out not to be enough. If anything went wrong and we needed a human hospital, I’d blink us down to the hospital. Easy peasy. Dario said it was better to have a plan we didn’t need than not have a plan when we did.

It made sense. That didn’t mean I liked thinking about the what-ifs.

“I need to get him. Are you fine while I go?”

“Go,” he said through clenched teeth.

It was easier and faster for me to get Buck than to call and wait for him to come on his own. I blinked over, and Buck answered the door on the first knock. He asked me to wait a couple of seconds while he grabbed his bag. I wasn’t sure what he needed in the bag.

Bag in hand, I blinked us back to our bedroom. Dario had pulled off his shirt and was staring at his belly in the mirror. He was no longer crying out in pain, but something was wrong.

“I think he’s backwards.”

“Backwards?” Buck crossed over to him.

“I think his foot’s in the wrong spot.”

“Okay, let’s get you on the bed, and I’ll feel around and see.” Buck pressed on his belly while I held my mate’s hand. Thehuhsounds Buck made didn’t sound too promising.

“So, the baby’s not breech, but... but I think he may be partially shifted. Or fully shifted.”

His words didn’t fully register with me, but they sure did with my mate.

“I can’t give birth to a reindeer!”

“No, no, and you won’t.” Buck righted himself. “This sometimes happens. It means that you’ve got a ways to go.”

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