"Your cub is strong and healthy." Samson's smile widened. "And definitely a shifter. I can sense their wolf already sleeping until your little one reaches adolescence."
Parker's hand flew to his belly. "Really? Our baby's a shifter?"
"Without question." Samson looked up at me. "Congratulations. Your cub is going to be powerful."
I pulled Parker close and whispered in his ear how much I adored him. He leaned into me, seeking my warmth, a gesture that had become automatic and I loved it. My wolf preened. Our mate was carrying our shifter cub who would grow up knowing both worlds.
"Here." Samson took Parker's hand and placed it on his belly, then reached for mine, guiding it to rest beside Parker's. "Feel that? That's your family."
Under our joined hands, I felt it. Not a kick, but a warmth. Our cub, nestled safe inside Parker, was already showing signs of the wolf they would become.
Parker's eyes were wet. "I can feel our little one."
"They know you," Samson said softly. "Both of you. And they're excited to meet you."
After Samson stepped away, Parker leaned into me. "I'm still apprehensive," he admitted. "But less than before. Knowing there are others who understand has reassured me our baby is fine." He cradled his small bump. "Thank you for bringing me here."
"You're part of this pack now." I pressed a kiss to his temple. "And when the cub comes, you won't be doing this alone. We'll all help. Samson, Tony, the others. That's what pack does."
"Pack." Parker tested the word. "I like that."
The drive home was quiet but comfortable. Parker dozed in the passenger seat, one hand still resting on his belly. When we got back to the house—our house now—I carried him inside, though he grumbled that he could walk perfectly fine.
"I'm pregnant, not broken," he muttered, but he didn't push me away when I set him on the bed.
"I know. But my wolf likes taking care of you."
"Your wolf is very bossy."
"You have no idea."
I helped him out of his clothes and into sleep pants, then crawled into bed beside him. In the darkness, his hand found mine, guiding it back to his belly.
"Our little one is really in there," he said. "A shifter baby."
"Yeah." I splayed my fingers across the small bump. "Our cub."
"What do I say when our kid asks, 'Dad, I want to shift?'"
"Tell them to wait for me before they get furry. Or they might just do it. Teens don't always ask permission. But you're going to be a great father."
"How do you know?"
"Because you care enough to worry about it. That's what makes a good parent." I kissed his shoulder. "Besides, the cub will teach you. They'll shift when they're ready, and we'll figure it out together."
We lay there in the darkness, my hand on his belly, feeling the warmth of our cub growing inside him. Parker's breathing evened out, and I knew he'd fallen asleep.
But I stayed awake a while longer as me and my wolf were content to be beside our mate. Parker was safe and our cub was strong. And for the first time in my life, I understood what it meant to have everything I'd ever wanted.
And it all started with a grumpy meteorologist falling for a sunshine morning show host who interrupted him.
Life, I decided, had a strange sense of humor but I wouldn't change a single thing.
FOURTEEN
PARKER
At thirty weeks pregnant, I'd reached the stage where simple tasks like putting on shoes had become a challenge. My black oxfords that I wore for every broadcast seemed to mock me. I shoved one foot in, willing the shoe to magically increase in size. I huffed and puffed as I struggled but finally got one foot in the damned shoe.
