Chapter 23
Ian
We meet in the clinic parking lot for the prenatal appointment. Julia’s already there when I pull in the spot next to her. She looks nervous as she gets out of the car, smoothing her skirt. It’s raining, so I hold one side of my jacket over her head as we dash for the covered entrance.
Inside, Julia’s bustled off to pee in a cup as soon as we check in, and then we’re shown right to the exam room, so we don’t get a chance to talk.
I turn around while she takes off her underwear and spreads the paper cover over her lap.
When she says she’s done, I notice that they’re purple this time. The panties on the chair.
If she forgets them again, I’m not giving them back.
I miss her. I’ve managed to see her a couple of times this week by finding excuses to buy books, but that was just to catch a glimpse and a smile. I’ve texted daily, but only gotten one-word responses.
“Are we still pretending to be mated?” she asks, voice light. “Should we hold hands?”
“We don’t have to pretend,” I assure her, holding mine out. What I mean is that in my mind, we are mated. I think she understands it the other way, that we don’t have to put on an act for the doctor.
But she takes my hand just as Helena enters, squeezing it. I step closer so our arms touch, too. It feels like my heart might explode, being this close to her.
“Hi, Dr. MacDougal,” Julia chirps.
“Nice to see you two again. I hear we have some good news!”
Julia nods, going rosy. “You were right about my eggs.”
Helena grins, her tail wagging. “I always am! Well, that’s just wonderful. Well done, both of you. How are you feeling?”
“Great!” I say. Helena and Julia look at each other and crack up.
“I meant the pregnant person,” Helena says gently. “But I’m glad you’re feeling good, too, Dad.”
Oh, right. Julia squeezes my hand, still giggling. “I’m all right. A little tired and queasy, but that’s normal for me in the first trimester.”
Helena nods, typing notes into the computer terminal. “I forgot you’re an old pro at this.”
“Emphasis on old,” Julia jokes. “I’ve never been pregnant with a wulver pup before, though, so I wasn’t sure what to expect.”
“Well, I think you’ll find a wulver pregnancy is very similar to a human one, just a compressed timeline. It’s a whole pregnancy in a little less than three months, so things move quickly. You’ll be done with the nausea before you know it.”
“That’s nice.”
Helena nods. “The key thing is for you to make sure you’re getting enough nutrition to support the rapid fetal growth.
You’ll want to increase your protein intake in particular, and make sure you’re taking a good prenatal vitamin.
I’ll prescribe one, but there are some specifically for wulvers available over the counter, too, and they usually come in better flavors. ”
“How much extra protein?” Julia asks. I wonder if she’s thinking about her grocery budget and her husband’s rule about not paying for extra food.
“I’ll bring you whatever you need,” I murmur.
Helena catches my eye and gives a small, approving flick of her ear as she answers Julia’s question. “That depends on how many you’ve got in there! Why don’t we take a look? Might see a heartbeat at this stage. Ian, if you don’t mind stepping out?”
“Oh!” Julia holds onto my hand tighter. “It’s okay if he stays. He should see this, too.”
The doctor looks between us and chuckles knowingly. “I guess you’re a little better acquainted now than the last time you were here.”
You could say that. I know the color of her nipples and the sound of her sighs. I’m still greedy for more, though.
Julia gets into position while Helena prepares the ultrasound wand. I try not to watch as it’s discreetly inserted under the paper drape, staring at the dark screen instead. I am very conscious that I’m a guest in this room, and I’d very much like to stay.
An incomprehensible black-and-white image appears on the monitor. Loops and dots and swirls grow and shrink as the doctor moves the wand around inside Julia. “I’m just locating the uterus,” she says. “Ah ha, there she is.”
A fuzzy shape coalesces on screen, a dark kidney bean. Inside it is a small, white circle with a flashing dot at the center.
A pup. I knew it was in there, but it’s a whole different thing seeing it on screen.
“Oh!” Julia gasps. “Is that the heartbeat?”
“Yep. Nice and steady, right where we like to see it at this stage. We’ve got one…”—Helena moves the wand until the first kidney bean goes out of focus and a second one appears—”two…and three. I think that’s all, but sometimes we’ll find another one hiding at the seven-week scan.”
“Three?” Julia breathes.
Three. A pack of pups. I feel faint.
“Does Dad need a chair?” Helena asks kindly, nodding at one behind me.
I draw in a deep breath, steadying myself. I need to get my shit together for my mate. She’s probably freaking out. “No. I’m just happy. So happy. I can’t believe it.”
“Me either,” Julia says wryly.
“So…about that protein,” Helena jokes. “You’re gonna need it.”
We leave her office overwhelmed, armed with a binder of tips for dealing with morning sickness and other pregnancy symptoms, fetal development facts, a nutrition guide, a raster of forms to fill out regarding the birth, pediatrician choices, and postnatal support.
We pause by the exit. It’s still raining, so once we leave the building, it’ll be another dash back to our cars with no opportunity to talk.
“How are you feeling about everything?” I ask, biting back my own excitement.
“Hungry,” she says, grinning and rubbing her belly.
“No, really,” I press.
“Glad it’s not four, I guess?” She’s still smiling, but her forehead creases with worry.
“Three is a lot,” I acknowledge. It’s a very average litter for a wulver pregnancy, but for a human, it’s a lot. “They’re smaller than human pups—babies, I mean. It’ll be easier than you think.”
“I guess we’ll find out!” she says too-brightly, avoiding eye contact. She’s putting on a brave face, but judging by her scent, she’s terrified. “So…see you next week, same time and place?”
I shake my head, not ready to give her up just yet. “Let me take you to lunch.”
She lifts her eyes to meet mine, nibbling at her lower lip. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Ian. We should probably limit our time together to pregnancy-related stuff only. That’s a healthy boundary.”
“Lunch is healthy. You need the protein,” I wheedle. “The pups need it. It’s essential prenatal nutrition.”
She caves, laughing. “Okay. Lunch. We can fill out forms.”
Yes.
“What do you think about getting Korean food? I’ve never had it,” I confess. “If you’re up for being my teacher, I’d like to learn more about it, so I can introduce the pups to it someday. But if you’re craving something else…”
“No, that sounds good. I’ve been wanting that,” she says, blinking quickly. Are her eyes misty? “It’s okay if you don’t like it, though. It’s not for everyone.”
“I’m going to love it,” I assure her.
I drive us to a Korean barbecue place she recommends. It’s amazing. We eat. We laugh. We pick a random wulver pediatrician whose bio mentions support of interspecies families.
It’s a great fucking day.
When I drop her off at her car, I want to kiss her so badly. I want to thank her for making three beautiful pups for me whose blinky little heartbeats might as well be stars in the sky as far as I’m concerned. I want to take her home. To our home.
“Drive safe,” I say instead, gripping the steering wheel with both hands.
“You, too.” She starts to get out.
“Hey,” I say. She pauses, glancing back at me, eyebrows raised. “If I bug you too much, just tell me? Like too much texting or whatever.”
She nods. “I don’t mind giving you updates, Ian. They’re your pups, too.”
Warmth spreads through me. “Thank you.”
For everything.
I message Julia every day that week. Sometimes to say good morning, others to say goodnight.
I try not to do both. Her responses are usually short but informative, letting me know that her nausea is subsiding, her exhaustion forcing her to take naps.
She doesn’t mention her husband, so hopefully that means all is calm on that front.
I buy another book on baby names, and she looks tired but happy to see me during the brief interaction before her manager swoops in to ring me up.
After our next check-up with Dr. MacDougal, which Julia passes with flying colors, I take her out to a fast-casual place that specializes in gimbap, the sushi-like slices served in picnic-print paper boats like an order of fries. Julia eats two boats of them. I have three.
“These are delicious,” she says, her cheeks chipmunked with food. “I’ve never been here before. This is such comfort food for me. Reminds me of the lunches my mom packed. I always looked forward to gimbap.”
I file that away for the future, when I’ll be packing three lunches every day.
“Ahh. So like turkey legs for me.” My mouth waters at the memory of the smoky meat with its crispy, salty skin.
Ripping the meat off in big chunks, gulping it down in time for recess.
How satisfying it felt to gnaw on the bare bone when my adult teeth were coming in.
“Your mom packed you whole turkey legs for school lunch?”
“Pups need a lot of protein,” I remind her, nudging the tray containing her last few pieces of gimbap toward her.
She laughs, obediently eating what’s left of her rolls. “This was fun,” she says, when we’ve finished eating and chatting and are clearing our trays.
“It was.”
“Richard is gone again.”
I’m not sure why she’s telling me this, but I nod cautiously. “Okay.”
“That’s all,” she finishes hurriedly. “See you next week.”
But I don’t. Because the night before our next prenatal appointment, Conall and Meg’s pups are born.