Chapter Twenty-One
Foster
We had a hard time setting up the surprise shower.
Because it was at the studio, the only space big enough for everyone who wanted to come, and my mate, at nearly nine months pregnant, still went in every day at least to teach a class or two.
In Oliver Creek, where young couples were growing their families at a remarkable rate, there had been a call for classes for pregnant omegas in all the disciplines he offered.
Although Jonathan was filling in for most of his sessions, my mate wanted to cover the new classes himself.
The only day he did not have anything specifically his was Wednesday evening, not the most common choice for a party, but what we had available.
Everyone from every class planned to attend, as well as their mates and many of the restaurant owners, shopkeepers, and, of course, Quinn.
He took full credit for my improved health, since I had actually followed his directions finally.
I knew it was due to my omega’s influence as well, but he wasn’t the type to want credit anyway and gladly gave it to the healer.
“Do you mind if we stop by the studio?” I asked. “I left my…my wallet there yesterday.”
From the odd look he gave me, I probably should have rehearsed this. But he only said, “All right. I might survive without ice cream for a few more minutes.”
“Thanks, baby. You’re the best.”
“I know,” he grumbled. “Since it’s your offspring demanding extra sprinkles and whipped cream.”
He always blamed the baby for his pregnancy sweet tooth. To be fair, he’d always had it, liked honey best, but just had better control before our little one took up residence. “Yes, dear.”
“You’re the deer,” he snarked.
Briar’s easygoing personality had held true through his pregnancy until his due date approached and his ankles swelled.
He took it personally, insisting that his studio work should keep him from such things.
Quinn told him to cut down on salt. He was also peeing so often, he swore he was going to set up a bed in the bathroom.
I parked behind the shop, in the owner’s spot, and climbed out. “Why don’t you come in with me.”
“Why? You’re just getting your wallet, and standing up sounds hard.”
“Well”—thinking fast—“I’m not sure exactly where I left it, so I might be a minute.”
“Just go,” he grumbled. “Don’t worry about me. I’m too swollen to fit through the door anyway.”
He wasn’t at all, actually having maintained a healthy weight despite the ice cream and sneaking bags of chips at night.
“All right. I just thought you might need to pee.”
His eyes widened. “I told you never to say that again. The very word triggers me. Now, I do have to go.”
Mission accomplished.
He led the way inside, informing me that I had better find my wallet fast, or he was getting double hot fudge and an extra scoop of peanuts on his honey vanilla, and it would all be my fault.
As he disappeared into the bathroom, I sauntered into the darkened front room and joined our friends who were lurking in the shadows.
Muffled giggles and demands to “shh,” fell into silence that made the pipes’ sound of the flushing toilet and the sink running audible. “Alpha? Are you still in here? Did you find your wallet? I want my—”
The designated person, Quinn, reached for the switch and flooded the room with light. “Surprise!” everyone called, and I had to grab for Briar before he tumbled over in shock.
“What is this?”
I guided him over to a chair in the center of the room. It was decorated like a throne and surrounded by mountains of gifts. “You’re smart enough to guess, I think.”
“A shower for us?” My balanced omega burst into noisy tears. “You’re all…you’re too much.”
I agreed with that 100 percent. The zen atmosphere of the studio had been altered beyond recognition.
Balloons and streamers and folding tables and chairs.
Paper tablecloths printed with baby animals nearly obscured by bowls and platters of food prepared by restauranteurs and other guests alike.
A huge cake topped by a baby deer and bear.
Briar gaped at it. “Quinn, is there something you aren’t telling me?”
He laughed aloud. “No, but since we don’t know which you’re having, your friends wanted to cover all the bases.”
We ate and drank and played games, and the healer never told Briar to eat less sugar or salt. Not on this occasion.
Then, as the first guests were starting to leave, my omega let out a gasp and I followed his gaze to the floor. He stood in a puddle. “Alpha?”
“Quinn?” I called. “Is the healer still here?”
He was, and it took him only a moment to decide we had no time to move Briar to the birthing center.
So it was that our little girl came into the world on a yoga mat in the studio where her alpha daddy had learned how to live instead of just struggle, where her omega daddy had found the right kind of success, and where she might possibly have been conceived one night when our private tantric-yoga practice got a little out of hand.
Most of our friends were still present for the birth because Briar insisted that they would all be godfathers and had the right to stay.
Holding her close, wrapped in a receiving blanket we’d opened not even an hour before Briar’s water broke, I vowed to our little girl that I would not be an absent workaholic daddy.
Seventy or more hours a week, even working from home, was not going to happen.
I’d figure something out. I just didn’t know what.