“You would do that?” I asked. An alpha not immediately laying claim to his mate’s child? What?
“It’s your body. Your career. I’d like to think we’d be amazing parents, and I’m all for starting a family now. But if it’s not something you’re ready for, then I’ll support your choice,” he replied.
Oh.
“Would you want to be a father and have children with me?” I tried to gauge if any of what he said was becausehewasn’t ready.
“I’d love to. Whenyou’reready and not a moment before,” he assured, the bond flooding with love. “It’s okay to feel conflicted. I don’t think anyone else in the pack has figured it out yet.”
It shouldn’t surprise me that Dusty would say and mean such things.
“You’re welcome to discuss anything you want with me. Ultimately this is your decision, and don’t let anyone ever think otherwise,” he added.
My chest felt really tight. Could I really be pregnant? It made a lot of sense…
Also, the way he phrased it was funny. Fiona didn’t knock me up. He did. I was carrying Dusty’s baby.
I was carrying BroKen’s chaotic spawn.
Shite.
My breathing grew hard. Dusty stood, picked me up, and sat back down in my chair, with me on his lap, as he wrapped his arms around me tightly.
And I let him.
“Breathe. I know. I can feel it all. I’ve got you. I’ve got you harder than I’ve ever had anything in my life.” His voice went rough, as love and devotion continued to bombard me.
With every day that passed I felt something grow between us. I’d meant it when I said that if I let myself, I could love him.
And I did.
I turned, so I could press my face into his shoulder, and I clutched onto him, letting his balsam scent wrap around me, and his emotions overpower me until my breathing slowed.
He didn’t even say anything, just stroked my hair and held me.
“Are we even ready to be parents? Do you know what kind of kid we’ll have?” I looked up into his eyes.
“A musical, fun, and resilient one. But again, it’s okay not to be ready. We can wait, or have kids unready. Plenty of people do. Whatever you want,” he assured.
I exhaled heavily. “We should probably do a test.”
“We can do that. Do you want to finish eating your sandwich or would you like me to pack everything up?” he asked.
I thought for a moment. “Can we just pack everything up?”
Yes, I needed to see the data before I completely spiraled.
“I’ll get a sack. Do you want another pickle?” he asked.
“Yes.” I nodded.
He gave me a kiss, placed me back on the chair, and went over to the front counter.
I finished the rest of my pickle that I’d abandoned on a napkin.
He came back with a paper sack, and something wrapped in foil. Dusty gathered everything up.
We left the deli and walked down the street, his arm around my waist. I leaned into him, taking the comfort he offered.
