22. Damon

I took in my nest in all its glory. It was everything that it needed to be and so much more. Not that I had a layout of what a nest should have or anything like that. I came into it knowing that I didn't want to be in a cave and no twigs. That was about it. But this? This felt right.

It was ready for me.

But also, it was a reminder that I was going to be pushing out not one, but two eggs, and I wasn't sure exactly how that was going to go. Getting them inside me had been easy… and fun. But now that they had grown? My belly was the size of a small state, and I had to push them out of me. Just thinking about it had me unlocking new levels of anxiety I didn't know existed.

More than the worry of how to get them out physically, was my worry about a birth plan—egg plan? The plan for the day they came out of me, not the day they were born. Hatched? This entire thing was so confusing.

My parents and brother had hinted about wanting to be there for the birth. That wasn't happening. Even if this was a normal birth, that wasn't what I'd have wanted. But this wasn't a normal birth. I was going to lay eggs, knowledge my family wasn't privy to. I kept putting them off and would eventually play the "midwife doesn't think it's for the best" card if need be. They'd be mad at first, but would melt as soon as they saw our babies' sweet faces and all would be well.

And that led to George. I wasn't sure how much I wanted George to be a part of the actual laying. I knew that plenty of people gave birth to their children in front of their other children. Conceptually, I understood that, but I also wasn't sure how this was going to go. If it was scary, I didn't want that for George. But also, I didn't want him to be left out.

It had been on my mind for a couple of days now, and I kept circling around the nest, staring at it as if it held the answers. Of course, it didn't. The one who did have answers, possibly, was the midwife. It was time to have that conversation, before George got home from school. I had a feeling we were near the finish line, decision made or not.

I went out to Nicholas's office and peeked inside. He was typing away on the computer, but from what I could tell, he wasn't on a call or Zoom.

"Hey, got a minute?"

He turned around and opened his arms, and I walked, I mean waddled, right into them, hugging him close.

"I need to talk to you."

"Here?"

"No, I think near the nest," I said.

Before I finished my sentence, he was already shutting everything down. I loved how he instantly decided that whatever I had to say was worth more than whatever was going on with work. The alpha knew how to make priorities, I'd give him that.

We went back to the nest and climbed inside together.

"What's going on, my love?" he asked, kissing the top of my head and hugging me.

"I'm just... I don't know what we should do about George. Should he be there for the clutch laying? If he shouldn't be, where do we send him? I don't want it to be like those old movies where the omega is inside with the midwife and everyone else is outside listening to them scream, terrified that each one would be their last." I knew it was television and not reality, but the visions from the screen kept popping into my head.

"I don't want that for him. But also, I don't want to ship him away like the babies are going to take over, you know. There's just so much..."

"I have a radical idea," Nicholas said. "And feel free to shut this down. But what if we asked George what he wants?"

"Just like that? Just ask him?"

"Yeah. We can't really plan out as well as we'd like because we don't know what day they're coming. And I don't think you want your parents here, looking at your eggs. But if you do, that's a whole other conversation we can have." And one that would require exposing my mate's dragon. I loved my parents. I did, but that was a far cry from wanting them to carry a secret this big.

"No, I don't want that. And you're right. We'll talk to him when he gets home."

A couple of hours later, George walked in to find us both in the nest. The school bus had dropped him off. He had a large plastic portfolio in his hand from his specialty art class that he took once a week.

"I brought home art!" he said proudly. He was very careful to say "art" because he never wanted us to know if it was a drawing or a painting or colored pencil or pastels of some sort. He wanted it to be a surprise.

"We'd love to see it, but we have something to ask you first," Nicholas said.

"Okay." He set the portfolio down.

"You're always so observant, probably why you're so good at art. You see things in a way that others don't." I was getting it all wrong. "Drad and I have a question for you."

"Okay."

"Do you want to be here when the eggs come? Or do you want to maybe stay with your grandmothers? Or do you want to think about it?" At least this time I got to the point.

"You mean, do I want to see them come out?" George shook his head. "No. But I want to be here, like in the house, in the room. I want to be with both of you and my siblings."

"Absolutely," Nicholas said. "And if you change your mind, we can figure it out."

It was such a relief having a plan, as non-structured as it was.

When I started to have contractions a few days later, I called the midwife and had her fax over my paperwork to the library. They were super old-school and still actually used fax machines. It was time for my paternity leave to begin, and if I called them, they might hear me contracting and that would be bad… very, very bad. It was way too early for that.

Bed rest and nest rest—kind of the same thing, and I didn't feel bad about the little fib. Big fib. The fib.

The midwife was there on time for the eggs to come. They weren't as easy to push out as I'd hoped they would be. For some reason, I thought, "Oh, they're coming before the babies would. It's not gonna hurt as bad."

Crap, I was so beyond wrong. It hurt. And it required pushing, pushing, and crying and pushing and screaming. Maybe it was less than a human birthing twins would've been, but it wasn't easy. That was for sure.

George stayed with me but made sure that when it was time to see the eggs actually come out, he was looking toward my face and not where I was delivering. He had been a rock star. Both he and my mate stood by my side the entire time, telling me what a great job I was doing and offering me sips of water. And what I feared would scare my son, he called cool. It worked out exactly as it should.

First one, then the other came. With George, I'd known instantly he was fine as the sound of his crying filled the air. With eggs, there was no such comfort. I had to rely on the midwife's assessment, and she was well pleased.

The midwife stayed long enough to help us clean up and said she really didn't need to be there any longer. Now all that was left was for us to wait. We promised to call if I needed anything and thanked her over and over again.

My clutch was here.

After the midwife left, the three of us crammed into the nest, just watching the eggs.

"I can't wait to meet them," George said, reaching out tentatively. "Is this okay?"

"Yeah, go ahead," Nicholas assured him.

George raised his hand and touched one, then the other. "I'm gonna be the best big brother ever."

"Yeah, you are," Nicholas said. "They're lucky to have you."

"I think I'm the lucky one." George closed his eyes and started to doze. It had been a long day. A long, beautiful day.

"You don't have to stay out here with me," I said. "Why don't you go to bed and be comfortable?"

"No. I'm right where I want to be, with the man I love and my family. I love you."

"I love you too, Drad." I pressed my forehead to his. "I love you."