Page 63 of Best Friends
We watch a game after dinner, snuggled on the couch. Malcolm nuzzles me constantly, as if he can’t get enough of my scent. Our team wins, and Malcolm shuts off the TV.
“When’s your next doctor appointment?” he asks.
“It’s in a few weeks. It’ll be the three month checkup.” I rub my stomach, sighing. “I’m looking forward to the first trimester being over. The nausea should disappear then.”
“I’m looking forward to your belly getting bigger.” He runs his calloused hand over my stomach.
I laugh. “Are you?”
“Yeah.”
I frown. “I’m not. What’s fun about pants being too tight?”
“We can get you those stretchy maternity pants.” He grins at my gasp of outrage. “What? Don’t all omegas wear them?”
“I will never wear those. I’d rather go without pants.”
He nods. “That’s a tradeoff I can get behind.”
I roll my eyes and we fall silent.
After a few minutes, he says softly, “How late into the pregnancy do you plan on working the streets?”
I wrinkle my brow. “What do you mean?”
He hesitates. “I guess when Chey said that perp elbowed you in the stomach today, it got me thinking. I know it wasn’t a big deal, but that’s mostly because you’re not very far along. If he’d hit you in the stomach when you’re maybe four months along, that could be more dangerous.”
I try not to bristle at the idea I need to stop actively patrolling the streets with Cheyenne. I know that he’s only bringing that up because he’s worried about my safety and that of the baby’s. Still, it’s frustrating. I love my job and I don’t want to push paper around and answer the phones all day. I didn’t become a cop to do that sort of thing.
“I’m not trying to control you,” he says softly.
I look up at him. “I know that.”
He lets out a shaky breath. “Okay, good. I couldn’t tell from your expression if you were mad or not.”
“I’m not mad.” I lean my head against his broad shoulder. “You’re just trying to protect me and the kid. I get it. That guy today, he caught me off guard. When he managed to land that hit, it was a bit of a wakeup call, if I’m honest. While I love my job, it’s not like I want to do anything that hurts the baby. My real job is to protect this child.”
“It’sourjob.”
“Right. It’s our job. But I’m the one who has to pull the trigger on when to stop patrolling with Cheyenne.”
“Yes.” He laces our fingers. “I trust your judgement.”
I smile because that means a lot to me for him to say that. In the beginning, Malcolm seemed to feel he had to micromanage everything about my pregnancy. It made me feel like he didn’t respect me or trust my ability to protect our child. Now I realize that was just his alpha traits taking over. We’re both at the mercy of our primal instincts much of the time. That’s something that has increased more and more since The Claiming and pregnancy.
“Maybe I’ll tell Captain Jones I’m ready to ride a desk starting in my fourth month.” My voice wobbles because it’s a difficult decision.
“You sure, C.?” His voice is carefully hopeful.
I nod. “Yeah. Once the baby is born and my maternity leave is over, then I’ll get back on patrol. My job will be waiting for me, so there’s no reason for me to be reckless with the safety of the baby.”
“You have many, many years ahead of you to be on patrol.” He squeezes my fingers. “I’m not the kind of alpha who’s going to insist you pop out a bunch of babies. If you just want this one, that’s fine with me. I just want you happy, C.”
I smile up at him, my heart squeezing at the affection in his eyes. “I want the same for you.”
He swallows hard. “I couldn’t be any happier. I’ve got everything I want right here in my arms.”
My eyes sting and I wipe roughly at them. “Fuck, this pregnancy is turning me into a sap.”
