Page 28 of Wrong Number, Right Valentine

“What I’m trying to say is the one trait every child needs is love. The rest will follow. And we will both make mistakes. That’s part of being a parent.”

“Well, this dad is going to fuck up more than most.” I couldn’t pretend to know what it was like to have a wolf inside me.

“You’ve given presentations at work.”

That was a huge switcheroo from discussing me as a parent.

“When standing in front of a group of people, are you supposed to know all the answers?”

Oh, I could see how his mind was working.

“We’ve talked about this. One of my mentors at college always drummed into us that we didn’t need to know everything.”People were terrified when presenting that they’d be asked a question they didn’t know how to respond to. But as long as you were well prepared in your subject area, sometimes an answer could come from your audience.

“That’s like parenting. You might have to ask me, or look up something online, ask a question in a dads’ group, or call the pediatrician.”

Reg made it sound so simple, but I’d rather give a thousand presentations as my palms ran with sweat and my knees knocked together than be feeling the way I did now.

“Perhaps seeing the baby and hearing their heartbeat might set your mind at ease.”

I was looking forward to our first ultrasound with the shifter midwife, but while thethump thump thumpof the baby’s heart would reassure me they were healthy, it wouldn’t answer the big question: how could I parent a shifter?

Expecting the shifter midwife’s office to be in the countryside on their pack land, I was surprised when Reg pulled up to a modern building with ten floors.

“Are you sure this is it?” I craned my neck, checking out the gleaming white exterior.

“That’s what it says.” He showed me the location on his phone.

The office was similar to any healthcare facility I’d visited which was reassuring. I’d sort of anticipated a place with animal statues and murals of forests and shifter ancestors.

We filled in the obligatory forms, but my name was called before I completed the questions I’d been umming and ahhing about.

Cynthia, the midwife, greeted us. She was warm and friendly, and we chatted about how long we’d been together.

“I’m sure you have questions about shifter pregnancies.”

“I’ve been reassuring him that he’ll be a great dad,” Reg blurted out.

And there it was, my insecurities laid bare. I hadn’t expected to get into that. We were here so the midwife could measure the baby, check the heartbeat, and make sure the pregnancy was progressing as it should be.

“Every parent-to-be worries they won’t be a good dad or mom.”

“But I’m human. How can I expect to know what’s going on in my child’s head?”

Cynthia smiled. “You’re not female either, but I’m sure you could be a girl dad.”

That kinda floored me.

“I can put you in touch with other shifter-human couples. Talking to them might relieve your concerns.”

“Thank you.”

Cynthia had me lie on the examination table and pull up my shirt. I’d been preparing for the cold gel on my belly, but Cynthia warmed it up. Reg and I had been poring over ultrasound images online so we knew what to expect.

But I was wrong. We both were. The grainy images were just that; a moving blob, but when the heartbeat resonated from the machine and the pounding filled the room, I became more protective of our little one than I had been.

My fears didn’t evaporate, but this baby was inside me, growing in my belly. I was keeping our little one safe while I nurtured them.

Reg was right. I clung to his hand and sniffed, not wanting to cry, but Cynthia handed me a box of tissues and both my mate and I grabbed a bunch.

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