17. Stellan
STELLAN
Marmalade was agitated.
She’d been weaving around Miles’s ankles all morning. And while she did that countless times a day, there was something different about her movements. They were jerky, and she kept sniffing my mate. We’d gotten over the other tenants doing that, but they’d passed their irritating habits to the cat.
In the afternoon, she climbed onto his lap and tapped his belly with one paw before laying her head on the bump. And while she wasn’t growling as she did at Blizzard that one time they met, the sounds out of her mouth were ones I’d never heard a cat make.
“Marmalade, no.” I reached for her, and she glared at me. I allowed my bear into my gaze, but that didn’t faze her.
“We’ve talked about this.” Miles took her in his arms. “No claws around the bump.”
“No claws around any of us ever.” I glanced at the scratched legs on the kitchen table.
“Ohhh.” He hugged the cat. “Ohhh, Marmalade, maybe you’re on to something.”
“She’s a very smart cat,” Indigo called from the bedroom where she was doing her homework.
“Ohhh what, Miles?” I sank onto the floor beside the couch. “What is it?”
“Indie’s right. She is smart.”
I banged a fist on my brow. “Will someone tell me what’s happening?”
Miles released his grip on the cat, and she placed a paw on his bump. My mate’s breathing had changed. It was a little deeper and faster, but not quite a pant.
“I believe that was a contraction.”
I didn’t question it because animals sensed things people couldn’t, such as storms, tremors, and changes in a sick body. The cat looked at me and her expression said, Finally you’re paying attention.
Indigo was at the door, and I was on my feet. We shared a glance, and my daughter raced into the kitchen and grabbed ice chips while I fumbled with my phone and found our birthing playlist.
Well, really. How did the cat know before I did and before Miles? My bear harrumphed. His kind often picked up the first signs of labor, and he was furious the cat had beaten him to it. I’ll never live this down.
I told him to cut it out as I took Miles’s hands and asked him where he wanted to be.
“Right here. It was mild, and I’m intrigued by the latest soap opera I’ve been watching.”
Indigo was beside me with her overnight bag and the cat carrier. “Come on, Marmalade. That’s the signal for us to skedaddle to Rudy’s.” She hugged Miles and said she couldn’t wait to meet the baby and put the cat in the carrier.
“Love you, dads.”
“No kiss or hug for me, kiddo?”
She ran back and wrapped her arms around me, and the cat complained because she was getting squished.
“Just one contraction? And if there were others, how far apart are they?”
Miles was holding the remote control and hit pause. “My love, I don’t know. This is my first time. You’re the expert.”
Being present when Indigo was born didn’t make me knowledgeable about birthing babies. Besides, each birth was different.
My mate turned on the TV and patted the sofa beside him.
While he watched, I ran over how long it would take to get to hospital if there were complications.
I’d done a test drive—well, a lot of them—at different times of the day and timed the journey in peak-hour traffic and in the middle of the night.
But I didn’t understand why my mate was so calm, because our baby was coming.
“Ouch.” Miles dropped the remote and leaned forward. “Okay, I didn’t like that. It was owie.”
There’ll be more owies to come, and they’ll be painful. My bear remembered some of Indigo’s birth.
I can’t say that. Though Miles was aware, as we’d attended birthing classes for shifters.
“Help me up, Stellan. I need to walk.”
We paced from the living room to our room, from there to the kitchen, and did another turn around the couch. The contractions were coming fast, and each one was more painful than the last.
Miles leaned on me between cramping. “This baby’s in a hurry.”
“Would you like a warm bath?”
He nodded, and when the tub was full of warm water, I helped Miles in and sat behind him.
“That feels a little better.”
With my hands on his bump, I felt his belly tighten as it contracted. We breathed together using the technique we’d been taught. But the water started to get cold, and Miles wanted out, but he didn’t know if he wanted to be on the bed or do more walking.
“What’s wrong with me?” He wept against my shoulder.
“Nothing. Your body is doing something momentous, but you’re in pain and the baby’s on their way, so your emotions are discombobulated.”
He managed a giggle. “I love that word.”
We paced, and Miles squatted, and I fed him ice chips. He moaned and wept through the contractions until he said, “Ohhh,” again.
What now? my bear wanted to know.
Miles tugged my shirt. “I want to push.”
The baby was closer than I thought, and I waited until he told me where he wanted to be.
“Maybe squatting. That gave me some relief earlier.”
I grabbed the bedding and plastic we’d prepared and placed it on the floor. With me behind him, I lowered us to a squatting position.
We breathed in tandem as he gave a gigantic push.
“Nothing happened? I know it takes more pushing, but somehow I thought one push and the baby would be here.”
“Soon, babe. You’re doing great.”
“How would you know? I need to get this baby out of me,” he yelped. “Oh, here’s another contraction.”
He pushed again and cried that his body was being split in two. “Is there any sign of the baby? Maybe I don’t really have a little one inside me.”
How I wished I could transfer some of his pain to me. My beast and I would bear it.
Using one hand, I felt for the baby’s head. Oh my gods, Miles was doing so well. Our little one was almost here, and they had a lot of hair.
“I felt the head. It won’t be long. You’re doing so well.”
“You said that already,” he grouched. “It’s annoying.”
He pushed again and again, and the baby’s head emerged. I knew once the shoulders were out, it would be very quick.
“Be there for our little one, Stellan.”
With one hand securing Miles, I placed my hand on our baby as my mate pushed the little one out. A boy. We had a son, and Indigo and Marmalade had a brother.
It’s a little boy. My beast came as close to crying as a shifter beast could.
There were no words to describe the birth of my second child and how much I loved my mate for carrying and birthing our baby. With me hugging the baby close, I lay Miles down and placed our son on his chest.
My mate stroked the baby’s damp head and kissed him. “Look at you, little man. You’re just perfect.” But then he hugged our son and sobbed harder than he had during labor. The baby mirrored Miles, and they both howled.
“Babe, you did it. You brought our son into the world.”
“Y-Yes.” His chest heaved. “But I couldn’t have done it without you, and I love you so much. But why is he crying?”
“The world is loud and very bright compared to where he’s been cocooned inside you. I’d cry too if I were him.”
I lay beside Miles and covered the three of us with a blanket. I hummed a tune that I’d sung to Indigo after her omega father left. It wasn’t a lullaby but a song that had been popular at the time, and the baby quietened.
“I should tell the big sister she has a brother.” But I didn’t move to grab the phone. A few more minutes cuddling my mate and son wouldn’t hurt.
“Big sisters,” Miles corrected me. “Don’t forget the orange one.”
I thought back to the days and weeks after my daughter’s birth when I had no idea my mate was going to leave us. This time fate had intervened and there wasn’t going to be a repeat performance.
After dressing Miles in a robe and putting him and the baby in bed, I reached for the phone and typed, Come and meet your little brother.
Indigo charged through the door with the cat, and I made room for her in the bed. Marmalade sniffed the newcomer and licked his head.
“She likes her new brother,” Indigo said.
“Like she had a choice.” I put a hand on the baby’s back, enjoying the warmth of his body.
“What shall we name him?” Indigo wanted to know.
“How about we wait a few days until we get to know him and see what suits him?” Miles suggested.
Voices outside the apartment drifted into the bedroom.
“I forgot to tell you. There’s a line of people waiting to meet the baby, and Jon put up that sign, Welcome Summer.”
Miles flung the quilt over his face and stifled a giggle. “Don’t make me laugh. It hurts.”