Chapter Thirteen

We'd discussed the two of us going to my brothers before now, but with the babies on the way, plans had to be altered. I was hardly going to take my pregnant mate go flying around the country in all weather with no idea where he'd lay his head or our eggs. And while he tried to be as helpful and positive as possible, I knew any omega dad would have to put the children first. And this omega human was showing me how to get things set up in a way I'd never seen before.

As a human, he probably would have expected to carry his child, usually just one, for a full nine months, but having mated with me, a dragon, everything was very different. And having grown up with otters, I was not much help with what to expect. Fortunately the little old lady who sold jam was also the local midwife. Her name was Parma.

We arrived at her home on a very warm afternoon. Her jam stand was on the honor system, and people were supposed to take a jar and put money into a little box. It struck me that folks in the area must be very honest if they could be trusted to do this and not just steal all the jam and all the money others had left.

"Come right up here," she called from her front steps. "I don't have time to wait for you to dawdle when your appointment time is almost past."

"Does that mean we're right on time?" Arvin whispered.

"It means what I said it means," she growled, and I caught a glimpse of her other side. The midwife was a coyote of all things, not what I'd have thought of as a nurturing type of animal, but maybe I was just relying on stereotypes and folk tales. "Come in before you end up laying those eggs in my yard."

Inside the home was much more welcoming than I'd expected from her greeting. Parma had us wait in the front room for a few minutes while she got ready for us, making me wonder why she'd rushed us if she wasn't "ready for us." But she soon came bustling out and guided us into the next room, which held a surprisingly scientific type exam table, a sink, and lots of other things that looked seriously medical in nature. "Now, you can go behind that screen and change," she told my mate, "while I wash my hands."

It seemed unnecessarily modest for a shifter practice, and if the screen didn't look like a part of the room, something always there, I would have thought she just did it for the sake of my mate's human sensibilities. When he was dressed in the provided white cotton gown, she had him climb up on the table and lie back.

"I feel very strange," Arvin told her. "My belly is so hard."

"And how else would eggs be?" Parma looked up from the little stool she'd wheeled over to the foot of the table. "If they aren't hard, how will they protect your little ones?" She busied herself, examining my mate, hemming and hawing under her breath. Standing, she felt all over his belly, pressing around the egg and nodding. "You are doing very well, Arvin. Even dragons have a rough time when they get this close to laying their eggs. Is your nest ready?"

"My what?" His cheeks lost all color. "We need to have a nest for…the eggs?"

"Well, yes, of course." She tsked. "Where did you plan to lay them? In the compost heap in the garden?"

"We don't even have a compost heap." He moved to sit up, but Parma gently pushed him back down. "Should we have one?"

"No," I told him softly. "We just need a nest." Unfortunately, I had no idea how to build one. It was the job of the omega. I didn't know a lot about being a dragon, but even I knew that. And since my mate was the furthest thing from being a dragon, I blamed myself for not realizing that. How would he know about building a nest? "We will take care of it as soon as we finish here and have lunch."

Arvin shook his head. "No lunch. We have shopping to do, and it can't wait."

"I don't want you missing a meal, omega."

"And I don't want to lay our eggs in a compost heap." His gritted jaw and fisted hands were in contrast with the awkward position, feet in stirrups and wearing only the white gown, but I knew serious when I saw it. Unfortunately, the nearby town did not have any drive-thrus, or I would have suggested we grab a bite there.

"We don't have a compost heap," I reminded him.

Huge mistake. He burst into tears. "I can't even do that right. How can I be a dad without a compost heap? We want our children to eat their vegetables—and we can't even grow any."

We were going way off track here, but I wasn't sure how to get that straightened out. I wasn't going to let my mate go hungry. Lately, if he did, he got dizzy, and I had no intention of seeing him faint while shopping for nesting materials. In a quandary, I caught the midwife's eye, hoping for a little help here. Why didn't I bring along some granola bars or cheese and crackers? It was all on me!

"Boys, I will fix you some sandwiches for the road." Parma straightened from where she was bent over my mate's belly. "And then you can shop for that nest." She washed her hands again and left the room. After Arvin had dressed behind his screen, and we were ready to go, the midwife returned with a brown bag and a sheaf of printouts. "Nice roast chicken on sourdough, some apples, and although I don't recommend too many sweets for my patients, I included a couple of brownies. They're very high protein and made with beets."

"Thank you." Arvin took the bag from her. "I've never had brownies made that way, but I am sure they're delicious. Then his expression became very concerned. "I don't suppose they are still chocolate?"

"Cocoa and chips," she assured him, passing the papers to me. "Just some tips for the next little while, a few nest ideas from Pinterest…things like that. If you haven't laid the eggs within two weeks, come back, and we'll make sure everything is still going as it should. All right?" She didn't wait for an answer, just led us out onto the porch, closing the door behind us.

"Well, that was interesting." Arvin rested a palm on his bump. "Roast chicken, she said?"

For a guy who didn't want any lunch, he did justice to everything she'd made, including half of my sandwich and both brownies, which he pronounced very good despite the vegetable content. Then he flipped through the nesting printouts and got out his phone to find more ideas. Our town might not have fast food franchises but what it did have was a terrific bed-and-bath store.

As soon as I parked in front, he was out of the car and marching into the shop, determination in every fiber of his being. He'd been waddling lately, but there was nothing like that happening as he pushed a cart up and down the aisles then sent me to get a second one and filled that as well. He bought pillows and blankets and quilts and bolsters and some things I didn't quite have names for, but he seemed to know what he wanted, and I was only glad I would have no trouble buying them for him.

After taking the first two carts to the front of the store and returning with a third empty, I found him staring at a big turquoise pillow in his hands. "Mate, are you all right?"

He nodded slowly. "The pillows in the dream… This was one of them."

"Wow." My mate was human, but he had quite the gift of dreams. "Maybe we need a clothesline, too."

We bought one, just in case and loaded it into the car along with all the other things we'd bought, many of which he recognized from the dream. Then we headed back to the cabin, where I made the mistake of suggesting he rest after all our exertions and start again in the morning. But no way was that happening.

I carried it all in and he then had me move the dresser from our room into the guest room to make enough room for all of our purchases. He constructed into the most beautiful nest, all the colors of the rainbow and every shape and size folded and stacked and combined into a nest worthy of our eggs. Our twins.

And now we had to wait.