Page 48 of Fur-Ever Home

"I am not going to Chicago on four hours' notice. If you want to keep an eye on Brian so badly, go yourself."

I considered deleting the last sentence, but another wave of nausea bent me over my trash can, stealing my one last fuck about my job. I couldn't do this anymore. I loved working with numbers, but the office politics were too much for me. I needed to find a small business, or a handful of entrepreneurs who needed an accountant.

As soon as I could sit up again, I sent the email. I had written two lines of my resignation letter by the time Sid returned with the janitor.

When I saw her harried expression, guilt washed over me. "I’m so sorry for the mess. Well, two messes." I toed my trash can into the aisle. She tossed it into the open garbage bag on her cart, plastic bin and all.

"I'm so sorry," I said again. "Can I help you clean it up?"

She was a lanky brown-skinned woman with broad shoulders and a bit of a hunch. The way her corded arms hung at her sides reminded me of werewolves, and I wondered if she was a shifter.

Not that Connor looked anything like that … that was probably a wolf shifter stereotype. I felt like a complete asshole for even thinking it, which made me want to help her even more.

She leaned in and sniffed my hair. Then, she shook her head. "Not in your condition. Have you been drinking ginger water, or keeping some saltines in your desk drawer?"

I blinked up at her. "If I'm that sick, maybe I should have stayed home."

"You're not sick, pup. You're pregnant."

Pup? So maybe she was a wolf shifter … It wasn't a stereotype if it was true.

"Pregnant?" My brain finally caught up to the second word of interest.

"Yup." She pointed to her collar. "You're unmarked, though. If your mate's a good one, he'll mark you to keep the sickness and cravings at bay."

That was all the information I needed to type out the rest of my resignation email."I'm pregnant. I quit."

I left allmy office belongings except my little rubber plant and framed family photo. I wouldn't miss the strange conglomeration of team-building propaganda and motivational sayings I'd accumulated over the years.

In the parking lot, I started to second guess my decision. "Okay, so, not every pregnant omega quits their job," I muttered.

I could hear it now. Pops would tell me how disappointed he was that I couldn't have stuck it out for my pregnancy so my paternity leave would have been paid. On the other hand, my dad would gush and tell me that's exactly what he had done when he'd found out he was pregnant with my oldest brother. And then Pops would say, "See? You knew better than to do what your dad did."

The mental turmoil caused yet another bout of nausea. I got sick in the bushes beside my car. Finally, I made it behind the wheel, once more cleaned up with tissues from the box in my passenger seat.

I should have gone home, but I needed to see Connor right away. I had to know I'd made the right decision.

He and Pops were in a meeting on the top floor. I felt guilty for avoiding my brothers, but my stomach was starting to feel queasy again. I grabbed a lemon-lime soda from the vending machine outside the conference room while I waited. The cool beverage seemed to calm everything down.

Fifteen minutes later, the door opened and my beautiful alpha walked out. Sunlight lit him up from behind, burning the image of a halo and wings into my vision for a split second before he stepped forward and became Connor again.

Pops followed him out and clapped him on the back. "Nice work, Connor."

"Thank you, James."

It was weird to hear Connor call Pops anything but Pops, but it was good to see them on equal footing. Pops liked Connor, that much was easy to see, but it was more than that. He seemed genuinely pleased by whatever Connor had presented in their meeting, beyond familial indulgence because Connor was my boyfriend.

I'd always worried Pops would treat me like his omega son if we worked together. What I appreciated at home, I would hate in the office. With his parenting style, I assumed Pops was a micromanaging boss, but Connor gushed about how hands-off he'd been. It didn't make sense until I saw how different Pops, James, was here at work.

Pops was the first to see me, or smell me. "Benjamin? What are you doing here?"

"I need to talk to Connor."

"Hey, Ben." Connor's smile was pure sunlight as he stepped toward me.

I placed my soda can on the table beside me and hopped from my seat. I rushed him, eager to wrap my arms around his chest and squeeze him as tightly as I could.

He smoothed my hair and cupped the back of my head. "Let's get you cleaned up in the bathroom over here, and we'll talk, okay?"

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