Page 81 of Omega in Hiding

“Sully is a doctor. He’s the one told me I was pregnant. I fainted at work, and Sully was there.” I sighed. “He’s a really good alpha. Some omega will be very happy someday when he claims them.”

Paolo doesn’t seem impressed with what a wonderful person Sully is. “That omega won’t be you,” he rumbles.

“Of course not.” I smile up at him. “I found my alpha. My fated mate alpha.”

Paolo gets a smug look on his face. “That’s right. And you can’t fight fate.”

****

(Two Months Pregnant)

Paolo and I are lounging in bed one morning after some steamy sex. I’m happy to say the morning sickness is gone, but just like Nico promised there are other issues cropping up all the time. One of them is weird cravings. I’ve had a hankering for strange things like cheese and jelly sandwiches, and marshmallows with hot salsa. None of these are things I’d have even thought about eating in the past before I got pregnant.

My stomach growls, and Paolo laughs. “Can I go downstairs and get you something to eat?” he asks sweetly.

“I don’t want to bother you.” To be honest I was almost hoping he’d offer. But I do feel guilty about making him go downstairs just to get me food.

“It’s not a bother, Connor. If you’re hungry, I’m happy to go get you something. It can’t be anything too fancy simply because I don’t know how to make anything.” His expression is sheepish. “And it’s Maria’s day off.”

“You’ll probably think I’m weird, but I’d love a peanut butter and pickle sandwich.” I watch him, waiting for his reaction.

Paolo’s gotten very good at not reacting because he takes my request in stride. “You got it, babe.”

I laugh. “Really? You not to give me a hard time?”

“What I do that?” He smirks and gets off the bed. He pulls on his pants and a T-shirt, and he leaves the bedroom.

I go into the restroom and brush my teeth and shave. I turn sideways viewing myself and the mirror. From the side I havethe tiniest of a bump. It’s nothing big, but enough to make my pants too tight. However, I’m stalling about wearing maternity pants as long as I can. Mostly I wear sweatpants because they’re more comfortable.

I’ve finished my grooming and I’m sitting on the bed waiting, when Paolo returns with my sandwich and a glass of milk. “Your peanut butter and pickle sandwich is ready for your consumption, your Majesty.” He smirks as he sets the plate on my lap.

“Thank you, serf.” I examine the sandwich, poking my fingertip against the soft white bread. “It seems nice and fresh. Good work.”

He bows exaggeratedly. “My pleasure, your Majesty.”

I pick up one half of the sandwich and nod. “I see you put plenty of peanut butter and pickles. The ratio looks just right.”

“I’m so happy that your Majesty is happy with my efforts.” He perches on the side of the bed looking expectant. “Go ahead, take a bite. I want to know if I did a good job.”

I lift the sandwich to my lips and I take a big bite. It would be pretty hard to ruin a peanut butter and pickle sandwich, considering there are basically only three ingredients. I nod as I chew, enjoying the sweet less of the peanut butter. “Yummy.”

He smiles, looking very pleased with himself.

I suddenly feel as if my tongue is burning, as is the roof of my mouth and my throat. I set the sandwich down and take a big gulp of milk. Sweat breaks out on my face as I swallow the bite in my mouth. I hate to be negative because Paolo was trying so hard to please me, but something is most definitely wrong with my sandwich. I drink some more milk, trying to quench the fire in my throat.

When my eyes begin to tear, I clear my throat and politely ask, “Paolo, what type of pickles did you use?”

He frowns. “What type? You mean there are more kinds of pickles than one?”

I laugh because I think he’s joking. But he’s not. “There are sweet pickles and there are dill pickles. To be honest there probably lots of other types of pickles too, but those are some of the most common.”

He frowns. “Hmmm. Let me think. You know I don’t remember. Should I go check?”

“Sure. Hate to bother you, but I’m just curious.”

“Does the sandwich not taste good?”

I’m not sure how to answer that because it’s not really that it doesn’t taste good, so much as it’s like eating fire.

---