22. Davien

Chapter 22

Davien

"I don't know." Errol rested his hands on his bump. "They're nice and all and have great reviews, all five stars, but they're so bland."

We'd sat up late last night looking at cribs, and now we were in the baby section of a large department store. I agreed cribs were boring, but they all served a purpose and that was to keep our baby comfortable and safe when they were sleeping.

"We could jazz them up a little with decals."

Errol made a face. "Nope."

"Colorful bedding?"

"No."

"A lick of paint?" We had some left over from when I painted the nursery.

"It's not the lack of color. They don't have any personality."

That stumped me. I closed one eye and studied the cribs. Nah, I didn't get it. Closed the other one and took a step back. I got nothing. How did a crib get personality?

Errol clapped and the bored sales assistant jumped. "Grams!"

"Has she got a hidden talent I'm not aware of?" She enjoyed knitting and sewing, so maybe a frill here and a tassel there might give the cribs "personality," but that would pose a danger to our little one.

"She's a woodworker."

That was news!

"She made the coffee table in her living room and the bookshelves in her bedroom."

Grams was full of surprises. "Okay, so what are you thinking?" We'd looked at rattles made by a local craftsperson, but they were expensive. If Grams's rates were cheaper, we could put in an order for a wooden rattle engraved with a unicorn on the handle. She wouldn't question why we wanted a unicorn because she'd told him tales about the beasts from childhood.

"She can make a cradle." He pointed to a white one. "Similar to that, but think of how special it would be if she handcrafted her great-grandchild's bed."

Grams had masses of energy, and her hands were always busy making something, but a cradle was a huge undertaking. I worried that it might be too much for her but that she'd say yes, not wanting to disappoint Errol.

"Let's ask her." He called and said we'd be at her place in twenty minutes and were bringing cake, but she said she was busy.

Errol stared at the phone. "She hung up on me."

Grams rarely refused either cake or a visit from Errol. Something was up. Forgetting about the cake, we jumped in the car and almost broke the speed limit getting there.

"Grams!" Errol searched the rooms, but she wasn't there. "Her purse and phone are here." He checked the medi-alert app on his phone. "It says she's here."

I suspected Grams had removed the bracelet. Either that or she was hiding under the bed.

"If she's out, she's wandering around with no way to contact us and no money."

We'd convinced her to wear the medi-alert bracelet so my mate could track her if she became confused again and wandered off.

Errol rubbed his bump and fisted the other hand. "What if she gets hurt?" Tears streamed over his cheeks, and I told him I'd go looking for her if he phoned the local hospitals.

But as I headed for the front door, the back door opened and Grams walked in.

"You decided to check on me, Grandson, even though I said I was busy." She folded her arms. "I love you, and I understand you worry about me, but I'm fine."

"Where were you?" Errol sat his grandmother on the sofa.

"I was working on something, and it's a surprise."

My mate's face brightened. "For the baby?"

"Maybe."

Grams wasn't giving much away.

"Can you give us a hint? Is it big or small?" Errol wasn't giving up.

She shrugged. "That depends."

"Grams!" My mate wanted answers, and his grandmother wasn't giving him any.

"Your turn," my mate said to me and jerked his head toward Grams.

I had a head start because I could smell the sharp almost citrus scent of wood. And there was sawdust on the bottom of Grams's trousers. Her eyes locked on mine, and the message I got was, "Don't tell."

"How about we let Grams keep her secret for a while longer?" But if she was making what I thought she was, we'd need to know before Errol bought a bland and boring version.

Errol poked out his bottom lip. "Don't want to."

"When can you spill the deets?" I asked her.

"Deets?" She rolled her eyes. "In two days."

I helped Errol off the couch and said we'd put off buying any baby-related items until then.

"But two days is so long. I wanna know now!" he cried as we walked from Grams's place next door to our home.

Tell him what Grams is doing . My beast hated seeing Errol upset, but I didn't want to spoil the surprise.

"How about we do something fun?"

"Like what?" He hugged a cushion against his big belly.

"We can go to the movies."

He pointed to his huge bump and swollen ankles. "No can do."

"I can do. Right here. I'll make a huge-ass pile of popcorn and hot dogs with your favorite mustard and sauerkraut. How about it?"

"Maybe. Will the hot dogs have salsa?"

"Absolutely."

"Better get to it while I choose a movie."

I saluted and raced into the kitchen. The popcorn was easy, as I'd bought a machine. I gave Errol a huge tub of popcorn and juice—soda gave him gas—while I fashioned a hot dog the way he liked it.

"Ta-da. What do you think?" I presented it on a silver platter with a linen napkin. No movie theater provided that service.

"Yum! You're a hot dog maker extraordinaire."

We snuggled and munched through a lot of food. Errol fell asleep halfway through the movie, and after I got him into bed, I took out the trash. There was light coming from the shed in Grams's garden.

I'd never known her to spend much time there, and having never been in the shed, I'd assumed it was for storage. She must've been working on Errol's surprise—at least I hoped so. Easing open the garden gate linking our two places, I crept over the grass and peeked in the window.

Though I couldn't make out what it was she was working on, it was wood, so I left her to it.

Two days later, my mate was home from a late session at the gym. While he couldn't demonstrate most of the skills at his work, he was still working with valued clients who had been with him for years.

"Grams says she has something to show us." He fumbled with the phone, and it would have smacked on the floor if I hadn't caught it. Shifter reflexes for the win.

"Hurry," he yelled as he tried and failed to put on his shoes. "Ahhh, I don't need shoes since we're just going next door.

I doubted the surprise was going anywhere and neither was Grams, but I got myself out the door and held my mate's hand.

Grams was in the living room, and the coffee table had been moved to make space for the special something in the middle of the room, covered in a large sheet. She instructed us to sit.

"I made this for your first child, and if you have more, they will use it too. Long after I have left this earth, I hope their children and their children's children will make use of it."

Errol sniffed. "If you were hoping to make me cry, you succeeded."

"Sorry, my love." Grams whipped off the sheet, revealing a wooden cradle. At both ends, she'd carved a unicorn, one that was identical to my mate's tattoo.

It looks like me .

You'll be with our baby for all time .

Stop , he pleaded, or I'll cry too .

Errol hugged his grandmother—we both did—and we took pics of Grams and her creation and the three of us.

I lugged the cradle home and placed it in the nursery. "Why do you think she carved a unicorn into the cradle?"

Errol shrugged as he ran his hands over the wood. "She knows I'm obsessed with them. Heck, she was the one who made up stories about unicorns in the garden."

His head jerked up. "You don't think she saw your… grandfather in her backyard, do you?"

There was no way to answer that.

"It's so beautiful. We'll treasure this present forever."

It definitely wasn't bland and boring. We stood, our arms around one another, adoring the precious gift Grams had given us.

"I'll be sad when the baby grows out of it."

"But there might be another baby and another."

My mate waddled into their bedroom and lay down. "And who will be carrying these babies for nine months?"

"Only if you agree, babe."

"Let's get this one out first."

I couldn't wait to be a father.