Page 51 of His Gift
“Hey,” I said into the phone, ended the call, then got out of the car and tapped on the window of Walt’s car. “We’re going to handle this together.”
Walt’s expression said far more than his gloomy, angry words ever could have. He was desperate and afraid. All of his sharp edges and snappish way of speaking on the phone or video calls were just defenses he’d put up to hide the fact that he was a scared, vulnerable, lonely omega.
Walt opened his car door, then scooted uncomfortably so he could stand with his enormous belly. “I’m going to need some help,” he said with a sigh.
“You can say that again,” I teased him, offering him a hand.
Shawn rushed around the front of his car to help, but by the time he reached us, I already had Walt on his feet. He was rounder than the last time we’d seen him. Honestly, he looked like he was about ready to pop.
“When is this baby due again?” Shawn asked, taking up a place on Walt’s other side as we headed to the Pullman Center’s main entrance.
“Early February,” Walt snapped. “And I don’t want to hear any jokes about how big I am or ‘I told you sos’ about getting into this condition in the first place.”
“Walt, you know I would never?—”
Shawn stopped as soon as we crossed into the large lobby of the Pullman Center to find Anthony talking to one of the building managers. He looked as elegant as ever, and even though he was an omega, the beta building manager looked at him with respect and deference as they spoke.
That conversation died as quickly as Shawn’s statement when Anthony glanced toward us. He almost went back to his conversation with the building manager, but went rigid insteadand jerked his head back to stare at us. Or more particularly, to stare at Walt’s belly.
“Oh my God,” he said, leaving his conversation to walk swiftly over to us, eyes wide. “Is this why you haven’t been in the office or visited any of us for months now?”
I had to hand it to Anthony, he was direct.
“Hello, Papa,” Walt said, hiding his panic behind formality.
“Don’t ‘hello, Papa’ me,” Anthony said coming to a stop in front of us and planting his hands on his hips. “Do you have something you’d like to tell me?”
Walt swallowed hard. Then he blurted, “Shawn and Enzo are dating. They’re living together, too. They were dating before Shawn hired Enzo to work for the company. Shawn hired his boyfriend.”
Shawn sucked in a breath. To me, the pinched expression that took over his face was more hurt and fear than anger. I frowned, but really, I wanted to roll my eyes. I wasn’t at all offended by Walt attempting to throw us under the bus because I knew it was done out of fear. If he’d known I was pregnant, too, he would have used that to try to deflect his papa’s anger.
What surprised me was that it worked.
“Is this true?” Anthony asked Shawn, looking equally offended.
“Um, well, the thing is,” Shawn stammered, looking about half his age as his papa stared him down.
I couldn’t take it anymore. “Why is any of this an issue?” I asked, focusing on Anthony. “It doesn’t affect the Christmas Eve supper or anything having to do with the reasons we’re here today.”
Anthony turned the same disapproving look he had for his boys on me. Ouch. Maybe I understood why they were so quick to deflect blame onto the other after all.
“Is it true that you’re dating my son?” Anthony asked, brittle with me where he’d been at least cordial before.
“Yes,” I said, showing as little fear as I could. I might have been a sub between the sheets, but I sure as hell knew how to hold my ground when I knew I was right. “Does that change the fact that I know what I’m doing and that I’ve committed to making this event as successful as possible for both the Wythe Foundation and the people who truly need the help and services we’re trying to provide for them?”
For a few seconds, you could have heard a pin drop.
Then Anthony grinned at me. He crossed his arms and stared at Shawn. “Why didn’t you tell me you were dating Enzo?” he asked.
“I—”
Before Shawn could answer, Anthony turned to Walt and said with even more feeling, “Why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant? You look like you’re at least seven months along.”
“Just over seven months,” Walt mumbled.
“I am your papa,” Anthony snapped, though there was more love than anger in him. “Don’t you think I would want to be involved in my baby having a baby?”
Walt had lowered his head, but he snapped it up now and looked at Anthony like he couldn’t believe his ears, and like he’d wanted to hear his papa say something like that for ages. “I thought you’d be disappointed in me, embarrassed. Dad is going to kill me. This just confirms everything he thinks about how useless and worthless I am.”
