Page 114 of Knot on the Market

"I'm going to build them the most amazing nursery," I say quietly.

"I know you will," she murmurs sleepily. "You're going to be an incredible father."

Father.The word still feels surreal, but in the best possible way. In seven months, we'll have a baby. A tiny person who's part of all of us, created from love.

I fall asleep with my hand on her stomach and my heart full of plans for the future we're building together.

Chapter 37

Lila

Two weeks later, the claiming bites have settled into silvery scars that catch the light when I move my head just right. Three crescents mark my throat, declaring to anyone with eyes that I belong to them completely. The possessive satisfaction I feel every time I catch one of them staring at the marks never gets old.

Neither does the way my hand unconsciously drifts to my stomach, where our baby is growing. Twelve weeks now, officially into the second trimester, and I'm finally starting to feel more like myself again. The exhaustion that had Callum so worried has mostly faded, replaced by an energy that makes me want to nest and organize and prepare for what's coming.

The Berry Festival transforms downtown Honeyridge Falls into something from a storybook, and walking through it with my two alphas feels like showing off the perfect life I never thought I'd have. Baskets of fresh strawberries and blueberries create colorful displays on every corner, the smell of berry pies and fresh jam fills the air, and families with children move through the crowds with the unhurried happiness of people who belong exactly where they are.

"There he is," Julian says with quiet pride, nodding toward the fire safety demonstration happening near the bandstand.

Dean stands in front of a group of fascinated children, wearing his dress uniform and explaining fire safety with the kind of enthusiastic competence that makes my chest tight with love. He's demonstrating stop, drop, and roll, getting the kids to practice the motions while their parents watch with amused affection.

The sight of him in his element, protecting people, making safety fun instead of scary makes something warm settle in my chest. This is Dean being exactly who he's meant to be, and the kids are eating it up.

"Who can tell me what to do if your clothes catch fire?" he asks the crowd of small faces.

"Stop, drop, and roll!" they shout in unison, several of them immediately throwing themselves on the grass to practice with the kind of enthusiasm only children can muster.

"That's right! And remember, if you see smoke, what do you do?"

"Get low and go!" comes the chorused response, accompanied by several kids demonstrating crawling under imaginary smoke.

"Perfect! You're all fire safety experts now," Dean says with that warm smile that makes him impossible not to love. "Remember to practice with your families at home."

When the demonstration ends and the children disperse with their parents, still chattering excitedly about what they've learned, Dean catches sight of us and his whole face lights up. He crosses to us with that easy stride, still in uniform and looking unfairly handsome in ways that make me want to drag him behind the nearest building.

"How'd I do?" he asks, though his grin suggests he already knows the answer.

"Perfect as always," I say, rising on my toes to kiss him. The kiss is soft and brief, appropriate for a family event, but when I pull back, Dean's eyes are warm with the kind of love that makes me grateful we found each other.

"Lila, honey!"

Maeve's voice carries across the crowd, and I turn to see her approaching with a basket that probably contains enough baked goods to feed everyone at the festival. She's wearing a cheerful floral apron and the kind of smile that suggests she's in her element as unofficial town hostess.

"You look radiant," Maeve says, pulling me into one of her warm, maternal hugs. "Positively glowing. There's something different about you lately."

I exchange glances with Dean, Julian, and Callum. We'd planned to keep the pregnancy quiet for a few more weeks, but Maeve has always been perceptive about these things.

"Actually," I say, making the decision in the moment, "there is something different. We're having a baby."

The silence that follows is brief but profound. Then Maeve's face transforms with pure joy.

"A baby!" she exclaims, pulling me into another hug that's even tighter than the first. "Oh, my dear girl, that's wonderful news! How far along are you?"

"Twelve weeks," I say, my hand moving automatically to my stomach. "Due in early spring."

"An early spring baby," Maeve says with wonder, tears actually forming in her eyes. "I'm going to be a great aunt! Oh, this is the best news I've heard in years."

Her excitement is infectious, and I find myself grinning as she immediately starts planning.

---