“All right, guys,” I said, sitting up and turning to the eggs.
I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to, but it felt right, so I did. Half the time, I couldn’t tell if Gertrude was teasing me. But if incubators did it with animal eggs, it couldn’t hurt. I was extremely cautious, though, and never picked the eggs up high enough to risk dropping them more than a fraction of an inchand that small distance was smack dab in the middle of their cushy beds.
If the timing was what I thought it was, we were going to have three babies any day now. My mate was currently in the nursery, cussing a little too frequently as he tried to piece together some cribs I’d ordered online. Apparently, “easy to assemble” had been a bold-faced lie. And that was with a mate who was great at building things. He said there were pieces he didn’t even recognize and that the “special tool” included to screw everything together was worthless.
I got constant updates via my phone, so it was probably for the best that I was stuck in the closet instead of out there trying to help. With my skills, I’d only have made things worse.
Eventually, I conceded. I hated to do it, but I had to get up and pee. I’d been getting better about it—mostly because my mate made me watch a video about bladder infections from holding things in too long, and I wanted no part of that. Still, I waited longer than I probably should have.
I sent him a message letting him know I needed to get up, and he was by the nest a few seconds later, his face beaming.
“They’re done,” he said proudly. “If you can stand to be away long enough, check them out after you take care of business.”
I gave him a thumbs-up and bolted to the bathroom, relieved myself, and, as hard as it was, forced myself to check out the nursery. My mate had worked hard, and I wanted to see it too. That didn’t make it easy to walk farther away from the closet, but I managed.
The room was perfect—absolutely perfect. Better than I’d ever imagined it. There were probably more things to worry about, like placement of the cribs and if we needed a bigger nightlight, but those decisions would have to wait. I needed to get back to my eggs.
As I stepped into the closet, I saw it. One of them moved. Or, at least, I thought it did.
“Was that…” I squatted down next to my mate.
“I think so. It happened so fast.”
The two of us watched. One minute went by. Two. Three. Nothing.
“Maybe I pounded too hard when I ran,” I said.
“I don’t think so. There’s plenty of padding here with your quilt collection.”
I was pretty sure he wasn’t going to let me live that down, but I didn’t care. I loved each and every one of those quilts and, if we chose, they would be a good addition to the B&B. And, even if we never used them again, they were there for our eggs, and that made them worth their weight in gold.
Then it happened again. This time, only two minutes passed before the next movement. Then one minute. Soon, they were moving frequently, but it was hard to keep track because the others started moving too.
And then I heard it. A crack.
I didn’t know which egg it was. I wanted to look so badly, but my mate had told me that as much as we might want to help, we just had to watch. It had been the only part of all this he’d repeatedly said. At the time, it was annoying, but now I saw why. All I wanted to do was help usher our little ones into this world, to make their entry easier.
We held each other’s hands tightly as a little flake came off one egg then another and then another. Out came our first dragon—the exact color of his father.
I scooped him up, and he shifted into his human form, where I was told he would stay until puberty. He was absolutely perfect, and I held him close as the next baby came.
Our second dragon was teal, and when Cyrus picked her up, she shifted into our sweet daughter. The two of us held our babies as we watched the third one struggle to get out.
The challenge was real. I wanted so badly to help—just to move the shell a little—but I didn’t. I stayed firm. Finally, our yellow dragon emerged.
My mate held his arms out, and I placed our son into them before picking up the dragon. She shifted for the first time into our second baby girl.
“We’re dads,” I said, breathless. “Dads of three.”
“That we are.”
We moved to the bed and lay down, letting the babies snuggle against me. Two of them had their first meal while the third dozed.
We’d call the others soon to meet the babies, but, for now, we wanted to savor these quiet first moments together as fathers with our three babies: Amber, Aster, and our firstborn, Blaise—named after my father, the one who taught me to love dragons and follow my dreams.
Epilogue
Cyrus