3. Stellan
STELLAN
Before I opened my eyes, I was greeted with a sweet aroma, and my nose twitched.
Ahhh, lemon frosting. It was Indigo’s favorite and mine too. She was arguing with herself, accompanied by metal being plonked on a hard surface and something clattering into the sink.
“No, the blue ones go on top. Blue is my favorite color, and it’s my birthday, so I get to decide.”
Is she talking to her beast? Did her bear appear on Indigo’s birthday? My beast was eager to have someone else to shift with.
I doubt it because the apartment would be a wreck. And it looked much the same as always as I pried open my eyes further.
Oh, well, she’s not wrong. The birthday girl gets to choose.
Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I stumbled into the kitchen. Indigo was teetering on a chair, which she wasn’t supposed to do in the kitchen, and rearranging a box of cupcake toppers. She didn’t react when I came in, and that combined with her furrowed brow suggested she was concentrating hard.
My baby was nine years old. How did that happen? When she was born, she was the length of my forearm.
I grabbed my daughter’s waist and put her on the floor. “Off the chair, my birthday girl. Not with the stove right there.”
Indigo rifled through my PJ pockets and lifted my arms before making me take off my slippers.
“Where is it?”
I folded my arms and pretended I had no clue what she was talking about. “What?”
“My present. I’m nine, Dad.”
I tapped my lips. “Hmmm, I thought being overrun with eleven or twelve children later was present enough. But you say you want more?”
Indigo folded her arms, imitating me. No one could mistake us for anything other than father and daughter.
I strolled toward the ancient filing cabinet in my office nook, but Indigo tore past me and flung open all four drawers. She squealed when she peered into the bottom one and pulled out her present wrapped in blue tissue paper.
“Dad, I love it.”
“You haven’t unwrapped it yet.”
“But I know I’m going to love it.”
I wished I could be as enthusiastic about life as Indigo, but I’d lost that zest somewhere along the way.
She ripped the paper and held up the wooden keepsake box I’d made with her name carved on the lid. She flung her arms around me and then raced into her room with the box, saying she had tons of stuff to put in there.
Ahhh, peace reigned and I made a coffee. I’d need more than one to prepare for the onslaught of kids we’d invited.
By noon the apartment was filled with eleven shifter children, while the adults dropped them off and scuttled out the door, probably thankful to have an afternoon of quiet.
I did my best to corral everyone toward the food and the games Indigo had organized. Balloons burst when someone’s claws appeared, and I put in earplugs so my bear wasn’t freaked out by the constant popping.
The doorbell rang. That would be the twelfth and last child, and when I opened the door, the girl who waltzed in was the infamous I met my beast child who’d spent a day being grilled by the principal.
“I’m not going to shift,” she announced.
“Excellent. Enjoy birthday cake instead.”
The partygoers moved into my daughter’s room, but when someone knocked at the door, Indigo ran past me and flung it open.
“Uncle Bernie.” She threw herself into his arms, and he lifted her up and gave her a bear hug.
“Who is this nine-year-old? I don’t recognize her.”
Indigo giggled and took the present he offered. “Thank you.”
Nita followed Bernard into the apartment as yet another balloon burst. She rolled her eyes and studied the living room that had been transformed into a disaster area.
“You said twelve kids was manageable.”
“In theory,” I tossed back at her.
She pulled me close and kissed my cheek as she used to when we were cubs running around the den. It’d been a month since I’d seen them, and I was struck by a pang of guilt that it’d been so long.
The den was only an hour out of town, but I was the only adult in the household, and every weekend there were Indigo activities or birthdays. Besides, I usually avoided den land itself and we met at a local café for lunch.
Jon arrived and congratulated the birthday girl.
He left a wrapped box containing a whistle and rope in case they had to shimmy down the side of the building.
That entertained the guests as they tried to figure out if he was joking or whether he was overly safety conscious.
I confiscated the rope, but after the kids blew the whistle nonstop, I took that too.
When the last of the exhausted children had been collected and Indigo was starting to come down from her sugar high, she hugged me and thanked me for the party. That was followed by a yawn, and I insisted she brush her teeth before climbing into bed.
I ignored the paper strewn over the living room, and Bernard, Nita, and I settled on the couch and in a beanbag.
“She’s grand, your daughter.” Nita’s gaze was on Indigo as my daughter went into her room.
“You did that.” Bernard raised his beer.
“You helped.” Though I was the only one who’d put Indigo to bed for the past eight and a half years.
My friends shared a glance, and I braced myself for the question I knew was coming.
“Does she ever ask about him?” Bernard rolled up some of the discarded paper and aimed it at the waste paper basket.
There was no need for a name because I understood who he was referring to.
Nobody at the den ever said the name around me. Their refusal spoke more than if they’d hedged around the subject and said “omega father” or “other parent.”
“Sometimes but less than she used to.”
My friends looked at one another again, and I sighed because they were deciding whether to give me some news.
“Arthur saw him at the spring gathering, and he asked about Indigo.” Nita avoided looking directly at me.
“Ahhh.”
“But he didn’t mention you.” Bernard put a hand on my shoulder. He’d always been protective of me, but more so after Indigo and I were left alone.
Don’t think about him, my bear urged. He made his choice.
Kipp. His name popped into my head. Indigo and I were his past, and neither of us was included in his future. But he’d stood in a room full of people we’d known since we were cubs and asked after the daughter he’d left behind. But didn’t inquire about the man who was raising her.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up.” Nita glanced away.
I looked down the hallway. Behind that closed door was my nine-year-old who had no memory of the omega father who’d given birth to her. Some days I was grateful for that and others I raged inwardly at how Kipp had stolen so much from Indigo. And it was my fault apparently.
Kipp wasn’t my fated mate. I’d believed he was, and so did everyone around us.
But what I thought and reality were not the same, and the den Alpha didn’t have sympathy for me getting it wrong.
Fate overrode everything, including the child that came from what turned out to be an ill-fated relationship.
“It wasn’t fair.” Nita clenched her hands in her lap.
Everyone at the den told me I should have understood. Kipp couldn’t go against fate, but I couldn’t forgive him, not that he found somebody else but that he left four months after our daughter was born.
Most people in the den were baffled at my anger.
They expected me to shrug it off as if we’d had an argument, and they told me I was unreasonable.
That was the real reason I rarely ventured onto den territory.
And the fact that I might bump into Kipp, though he didn’t live in the den either and his place was an hour in the other direction.
“You can’t fight fate,” I said bitterly.
“Maybe not, but you don’t leave the child who was a product of that initial relationship, a baby that was beloved by both parents.” Nita sniffed and wiped away her tears.
Bernard slapped his thigh and said we should talk about something else.
“Like the cake smeared on the carpet.” Nita made a face.
“Ewww. You’re going to clean that up right?” Bernard looked at me with horror etched in his expression
“Nah. I thought I’d leave it till her next birthday and save myself the trouble.”
Nita rolled her eyes, and when they left, they told me not to be a stranger.
I walked downstairs with them and tossed out a bag of garbage.
Something made me glance up at the once-empty apartment.
A light streamed out, and I wondered if the new guy had settled in or if he’d left a light on when he brought his stuff.
When a new tenant arrived, we all tried to guess what type of shifter he was, and I was surprised Jon hadn’t come around with a list. He must have been too busy with Mrs. Munro’s cat who I’d heard got stuck in the tree again.
Indigo was asleep when I checked on her, and I sat by her bed like I used to and watched her breathe.
“Happy birthday, kiddo.”