4. Otis

4

OTIS

T hree weeks later…

Polar bear shifter alphas traditionally build the cribs their children sleep in. I have to admit that a few tears slipped from my eyes while I was carving, sanding, and staining the wood. After everything that happened, I never thought I would get to build my own cribs. Some think it's an outdated practice, but two days before Kade is due, I finish constructing them.

I would have finished sooner, but I made the mistake of buying a tool box made of fabric, and a certain fairy penguin shifter made off with it and hid it amongst the mounting piles of bags around our bed.

Most of the bags have papers with the names and numbers of their unfortunate owners. But some of them don't, and I have no idea where Kade got them. The mitten situation is even worse. There are at least fifty pairs of mittens under the bed without contact information. And many of them are only half-way done.

Kade made two more clandestine trips to Knots to steal knitting projects before I took his car keys away. I've taken care of some wild boys in my day, but this is ridiculous.

I leave our bedroom and head into the kitchen to check on Kade. In an effort to prevent him from getting arrested for stealing, I've kept him locked in the house for the last three days.

I've taken care of him during those three days, of course. Making all of his favorite foods and cuddling him while watching The Wizard of Oz , which we eventually managed to finish on around our tenth attempt. Even if I wasn't keeping him at home for the protection of all bags in the neighborhood, I don't think I would have been able to let him out of my sight right now.

He glows with happiness, and I never want to stop touching him.

There's still meditation music coming from our room. Some random combination of singing bowls and piano. Kade's been playing it since early this morning. When I asked him about it, he said it was a "fairy garden" playlist on Spotify.

I don't know why he's playing fairy garden music, but as long as he's not stealing mittens or bags, I'm not going to question it at this point.

The doorbell rings. Ben mentioned that he might drop off the kids at some point today while Cy is out of town with Ansel. Maybe that's him.

After I dry my hands, I head for the door, hoping he didn't bring Scooch too. But Ben isn't at the door with the kids. It's a delivery.

Of twelve huge boxes.

Kade appears next to me. He has a bright blue lightning bolt painted over his right eye like David Bowie, and he's wearing a pair of costume fairy wings.

Other than that, he's completely nude.

He's adorable and sexy as all hell. But I have no idea what's going on.

Ed warned me that things would get weird a few days before the birth. Little Blues are a burrowing penguin, so they build an enclosed structure in addition to their nest. But that doesn't account for this.

"They came!" Kade squeals and almost rushes out the door before I stop him.

"What came? Did you order something?"

"Yes. We didn't have any fairy houses, and you wouldn't let me leave the house."

Fairy houses? What does that mean?

I grab for the first box and rip it open to find a ceramic mushroom with a door in the stem, and several windows on the red and white spotted roof.

"These are all fairy houses?" I ask.

Kade holds out his hand. "Let me show you."

I let him guide me away from the front door and through the kitchen to our bedroom.

The fairy garden music is still playing as we enter. The main light is off, but twinkling strands of white lights are hung all over the walls like glowing ivy. The mittens—both the half-finished and complete variety—have been threaded together in a makeshift blanket, which has been suspended over the bed like a canopy. The bags cover every inch of the ground.

It has an otherworldly feel to it. Almost as if I've stepped into the setting of a children's book.

"See? If we have the fairy houses, our babies will know that fairies are safe in this place—that they're wanted."

Ed said things would get weird. He didn't tell me how sweet Kade's burrow would be. I built our children cribs, and he built them this perfect little haven.

"Would you let me help you set up the houses? I want to welcome our babies too," I say. Taking care of my boy right now is just as fulfilling as building the cribs. Even when we have children, I'll still be his Daddy.

He smiles. "Thank you, Daddy." He's thinking it, too.

I bring in the boxes, one-by-one, and Kade finds a place for all of the little ceramic fairy homes. Some are shaped like tree trunks, others spaghetti squash or upside down planter pots. Kade sets them up on our night stand, dresser, and along the edges of the floor.

All the while, I see the slick that's started to run down his legs—I smell it too.

He isn't going to give birth in a few days on his due date. It will be much sooner than that.

I clear out the boxes and plastic wrap, until we're in a fairy land with a cobbled road of bags and a fort of mittens, lit by artificial stars.

He steps closer to me and brings my hand to his belly. "Our babies have to know that they're worthy of love."

"I think they will, Kade."

His eyes fill with tears. "It is for us. It is ."

I don't know what he's talking about, but I can see it's important to him.

"Yes. You're right."

He releases my hand and climbs onto the bed. The twinkling light flickers through the hodgepodge blanket of mittens, and he looks more magical than ever.

"You must bring the pillows now," he says.