Chapter 16 #2
“That’s pretty,” Oliver agrees. “I have a great aunt with that name.”
“Do we hate her?” Isolde asks pensively.
“Yeah, she was a twat and enjoyed pinching my cheeks too hard,” Oliver admits.
“Not that then,” she decides.
“What about Clelia?” I ask.
“I’m not naming her something that reminds me of a clit,” she grumbles, making me clap my hand over my mouth to keep from falling out.
“Fuck,” I say, my voice muffled as I struggle to breathe. I can’t wake the baby up. Fuck.
My face is red as I remove my hand from my mouth, but I’m still struggling not to laugh.
“That was mean,” I accuse her.
“It’s the savage truth,” she shrugs. “I have no regrets, Alesso.”
I love the way my name rolls off her tongue.
“Your turn,” Oliver says. “What is her name?”
“Leila,” she rasps. “I don’t know why, it feels like that could be her name.”
“Spell it,” I insist, needing to ‘see’ and hear the name.
“L-e-i-l-a,” she says.
“Yes,” I nod. “This I like.”
“Yeah,” Oliver agrees. “It works for her.”
Pulling out my phone, I blow out a breath and call Grant. He said that he would be more available than Lucas today. Isolde looks exhausted.
“Do you want me to take her, and then you can lay with us both?” Oliver asks. “You need to sleep before you head back, Kitten.”
“Mmm. That sounds nice,” she rasps.
Isolde can’t be this tired and stay alone with the bambina. This works best.
Oliver carefully picks up Leila so she’s curled in the crook of his arm, and it’s hard to deny how tiny she is like this. I can’t imagine that she’s more than two months old.
Oliver eases back until he’s against the arm of the couch, and Isolde is crawling toward him to lay down when Grant finally answers.
“Hey, have you heard from her?” he asks.
“She’s home,” I say. “There’s a development and I need Lucas for this. I’m going to request a video call. Is he available?”
“Shit, he just went into a closed meeting. I could drag him out, but it’ll cause some delays in getting home as soon as possible,” he admits.
“I need Lucas to figure out a solution to forced heats,” Isolde mumbles, her head on Oliver’s chest as she gazes at Leila. “That can’t happen more so than ever. For me and her.”
She twitches hard from exhaustion, and I wince. I’ve been there when I’ve worked for hours on end. Add in the emotional distress of finding Leila in a burning building that shouldn’t have had a baby, and she’s wrecked.
My heart stops and I can’t breathe as her words finally hit me. Oh fuck no.
“You need to stay in Indianapolis,” I growl. “If you think the information I have for you is going to alter that in any way, I won’t fucking tell you.”
There’s silence for a moment before Grant takes a very audible breath.
“I have to reserve judgement on that,” he rumbles. “Tell me.”
Requesting a video call, I watch as Isolde’s lids get heavier. Grant accepts the video call, and I can see that he’s wearing the same black suit he left in and he is standing in an office with the door closed.
“Don’t freak out,” I hiss, giving him the Italian look to not be an asshole.
“My patience is fraying, asshole,” he growls.
See, what did I tell you?
“Our girl is almost asleep. She wanted to show you the extra passenger she picked up,” I say cryptically turning the camera while Oliver smirks.
He has both our girls in his arms, he has every reason to be smug. Fuck. Ours. In for a penny, in for a pound. We have a baby now.
“Is that… Why is there someone so tiny in our house?” Grant asks, shocked.
Maybe I’ve been wrong. Maybe Lucas and Grant do see this as our home. We haven’t been living together for long enough for me to know how anyone feels about the logistics of our pack. Are pack meetings a thing?
Can I call one?
“Earth to Alesso,” Oliver laughs. “Isolde is fast asleep and Grant looks like he’s about to shit his pants.”
“I may already have,” Grant says weakly.
“When our girl went to work today, she found a stowaway,” I explain, trying to make sure I don’t mention the fire. “There weren’t supposed to be any people this small in the building.”
“I hope to hell not,” he snarls. “Bring me in closer. What’s her name and how old is she?”
“We don’t for sure know either thing,” I reply. “Isolde named her Leila just now. No parents to speak of. At least, none that deserve her.”
“She can’t be any older than a couple months old. She’s a tiny peanut,” Oliver says. “Girl has some pipes too.”
“To be fair, she was hungry and wet. I don’t think I’m a picnic to be around while hangry either,” I say.
“So. Are you calling me to tell me we’re…parents?” Grant asks.
“Yeah, I am. Isolde wants her. She said that if we weren’t comfortable with it she’d understand and release us.”
“Well fuck that. Isolde is mine. I don’t care about fancy bonds and shit, this is how it is. I didn’t even know she’d want kids. Okay… I’ll break it to Lucas. What was she saying about forced heats?” he asks.
“I think she’s worried about that ever happening to Leila—”
“Over my fucking dead body,” he snarls.
Well, I guess another one’s bitten the dust. That didn’t take long.
“Developing this may take awhile. Lucas won’t be able to handle not coming home, guys. I can’t keep a baby from him,” Grant confesses. “However, I can not mention it for a little while.”
“That’ll work,” I say. “She’s beautiful, right?”
“They both are,” he says. “Send me a photo of them with Oliver. I need one of my girls. Thanks for calling.”
Grant is typically very suspicious, I've realized. He’s either playing this cool until he can research this for himself, or he means every word.
Saying my goodbyes, I hang up, snap a photo and lean back to stare at them. Leila has tiny fingers, sock covered toes, and blonde hair that curls. She’s absolutely perfect.
“Leila doesn’t have clothes for this weather, though I suppose babies stay inside for the most part, right?” Oliver murmurs.
“If Isolde is moving between houses, I think warmer clothes will be important,” I reply. “They can’t wear coats in a car seat, right?”
“Do some research,” he suggests. “Have the clothes sent here since I still don’t fucking know where she lives, and Grant is stubborn on the matter. I know she’ll need a crib or bassinet too.”
“Something portable,” I grunt.
Before I know it, I’m grabbing my computer and filling the next hour with shopping and research.
And you know what? It’s all terrifying because there are so many conflicting opinions. Welcome to parenthood, I guess.