Page 44 of Knot Our Omega

“That’s the small one,” I explained. “The full-sized version is yours. When you show me where you want it, we’ll build it. It can be your studio, a place to paint your rocks, where the light comes in from every angle. I didn’t know you when I made it, but I figured maybe you’d want to make teas or something—but now… I think you need an art room.”

She threw her arms around me and held me tight.

“I suppose I should probably give you your present now,” she said with a mischievous little smile.

“It’s not our birthday,” I teased.

“That’s true. But this is a pretty good present. I didn’t want to wait until Christmas. Pretty sure I couldn’t actually hide it that long.”

She reached into her dress pocket and pulled out a long piece of plastic.

It wasn’t until she turned it over that I knew what her gift was. It had two blue lines.

“Are you…are you having our young?” Wilder’s eyes never left the pregnancy test.

“That’s good, right?” she said.

My heart nearly exploded.

“Oh my gods,” I whispered. “That…it’s everything.”

All three of us wrapped our arms around us, tears flowing freely. We were going to be fathers.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Rumor

“I think you’re a mermaid,” I whispered, twisting the rock around, making sure I got it right. Right. I slowly rotated it, and, when it was finally facing the correct direction, I realized I was right. This rock was meant to be a mermaid.

I put it down on the table and got my paints to create my palette. My stomach tightened.

I’d been really lucky this entire pregnancy. No morning sickness, no backaches, no swollen feet. But today, my stomach was off. Like someone was squeezing it.

“Maybe you’re a mermaid tomorrow,” I told the rock, patted it, and walked out of my art studio—the one Vargas had made for me—and waddled back toward the animals to see what Wilder was up to.

And yes, I was at the point of waddling.

I still had two weeks of this pregnancy left, at least if I went to my due date. I didn’t know how it was going to go. My mom went early because she had twins, and that was all I had to go by. And it wasn’t like I could call her and ask. That part of my life was over and done with.

Most of the time, I didn’t care. I was happier here than I’d ever been there. But sometimes, like this—when I needed maternal advice—it hurt.

Wilder was collecting my quail eggs when I got there. He insisted I not do it while I was pregnant. I didn’t think there were technically any rules about pregnant women and eggs, but in his mind, if we couldn’t be around cat messes, we shouldn’t be around chicken messes either. Or quail. Or any other critters. So he took over that task. I stopped arguing after two days. It wasn’t a battle I could win, especially not when he had my other mates on his side.

We’d built up a really good customer base of people who wanted the little eggs. I liked them, always had. They were delicious and added something special to a lot of different meals. I just hadn’t realized how popular they were.

“Hey, mate. You having a good day?” I leaned against the fence.

“I am, except for Wilder the quail. He’s kind of being a pain in the ass.”

Wilder liked to escape. And was quite good at it.

“Need my help?”

“No, I’m good. How are you? You look… I don’t know, not uncomfortable, but maybe—”

“No, it’s uncomfortable. My stomach’s not great. I think I might go in and lie down.” I could use the nap either which way.

“If you wait a second, I’ll walk you in,” he offered.

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