2. Kade

2

KADE

I line up all five of my makeup bags along the floor at the foot of the bed. They are bright colors, like our chicks will be, even if they are a little small to carry a penguin in. Next to the makeup bag, I set out the mittens. They're soft and stretchy—much better than the mitten I was stuffed inside of when Otis walked off.

At knitting class, I can make more.

I do a full face of makeup and tie my handkerchief on before I leave for class. None of my old jeans fit, so I pull on the horrible paternity jeans Otis insisted I buy last week. Instead of a button, there's this panel of stretchy fabric that covers my baby bump.

I can't believe it's come to this. I snap a photo of my fabric-encased bump and send it to Ansel.

My current situation.

Ben introduced me to Ansel over a month ago, and talking with him was so easy. Almost like we'd always been friends. A lot of my friendships with polar bear shifters feel that way. I fit in so much better with them than I ever did with other penguin shifters.

My phone buzzes.

Ah. Dad pants. The ultimate sacrifice a man makes for his children. You have my deepest condolences.

He sends me a photo of his shoulder, where his white sweater has what looks like gray vomit on it. Next to the stain is a fuzzy penguin chick who looks at the camera innocently as if to say, "That wasn't me. I am too cute to ever do something like that."

Another sweater bites the dust.

I stare at the penguin chick. Soon, I'll have two penguin chicks of my own. The doctor said I was carrying twins. I rub my belly. Back before I met Otis, I didn't want children, but these days my arms ache to hold my babies.

Sometimes I wonder if my omega dad ever felt this way when he was pregnant with me. Or was he scared, like I was the first few days of my pregnancy? My omega dad wasn't lucky like me. He didn't have a beautiful home to lay his eggs in. And he didn't have Otis.

He didn't have anyone.

The longer I carry my eggs, the more I realize how awful that must have been for him.

On my way out the door, I send Ansel another text.

Your kids are adorable.

He answers immediately.

I know.

I can't help but laugh. Ansel's a good dad.

Maybe with enough help, I can be a good dad too.

While I'm at it, I text a quick "hello" to Jason, who hasn't spoken to me hardly at all since I told him I was keeping the babies. He rarely answers my texts, and he won't take my calls. I try to not let it bother me. But I miss him.

The drive to the yarn shop isn't long. I should probably walk, but I love my new car, so I don't. When we first got back to Anchorage, Harry bought me this huge black car without knowing that I couldn't drive.

I passed my driver's test last week, and now "the beast" takes me everywhere. Ben thought up that nickname. I like Ben. He hasn't been around other penguin shifters long enough to dislike me because I'm a Little Blue.

I park the beast in the back of the yarn shop, "Knots." The back entrance is better anyway. That's where they keep all of the rope. Knots doesn't just sell yarn, although that's their main focus. They also sell lots of pretty bondage rope in every color of the rainbow.

The aisle of rope opens up into a cozy store with shelves of yarn along the walls, and a collection of chairs at the center where people gather for the knitting classes. No one is sitting there now. Instead, there are five canvas bags on the chairs with knitting projects and yarn inside. Everyone probably went next door to grab some coffee.

Those are such nice bags. Sturdy, soft, spacious. You could carry a lot of penguin chicks in bags like those.

And they have half-finished mittens inside…

I think they belong at the foot of my bed.

Before everyone gets back from the coffee shop, I grab the bags by the handles and make a break for the back door. I'm very pregnant and carrying my weight in yarn, so I'm not fast, but I almost make it before Taylor, the owner of Knots, comes in the front door with his coffee.

"Hello, Kade. What are you doing with our knitting bags?"

I ignore him and escape out the back door.

"Kade!"

I waddle toward the beast as quickly as I can. Only a few more feet…

The back door opens, and Taylor rushes toward me. "Kade, wait."

I open the driver's seat, throw the bags across the console, and climb inside.

"But our knitting. Why would you take our knitting?"

I slam the driver's door and lock it.

Success.

I wave to Taylor as I back out of the parking lot. He doesn't wave back. He just stands there, confused.

Oh well. I'll come back to class next week, after these lovely bags are safe by my bed.