Page 54 of Glitterati Omega

Winston seemed sullen after that, perhaps a bit sore that his mother—and his omega mother, at that—had so roundly shut him down.

They went to see the baby around mid-morning, since Mandisa said that was the best time. Rupert increasingly regretted the decision, but he didn’t want to make a fuss. Thomas had never wanted him to draw attention to it, and besides, it wasn’t like Winston would care much. He probably wouldn’t have any patience for Rupert.

After all, he was being silly. It was smarter for him to take all his organs out. Never have children.

Mandisa looked tired, as though she hadn’t slept all night; her complexion seemed dull, nearly ashy, as though she were ill. There was spit-up on her top; she hadn’t had time to change before they arrived.

The baby, by contrast, looked quite happy—big, dark doe eyes with long lashes, a head of dark curls, and the most cherubic smile and infectious laugh. “They are two months old today,” Mandisa said proudly, bouncing the baby on her knee.

“Mm,” Winston said.

Rupert waved shyly from behind Winston when the baby’s gaze landed on him, which elicited a smile and a giggle, followed by the infant kicking their legs and flexing their little arms with apparent delight. Rupert smiled back, which got more laughter.

Mandisa’s gaze landed on him, and he sat up, feeling censured. He folded his hands in his lap and looked away. Mandisa snorted.

“And when will you have one, brother?” she asked, turning to Winston.

“Never, if I can help it,” Winston replied stiffly.

Rupert looked pointedly at the floor. He wished he’d worn a ring or two so he could fiddle with them and look distracted.

Mandisa lifted a brow and tilted her head. “Never? Your blond friend there wants to disagree.”

Rupert jumped.

Winston said, “Rupert’s elected to have surgery to prevent that from ever happening.”

“Winston,” Rupert hissed, because that was nobody’s business but his own.

“And,” Winston continued like he hadn’t heard him, “I think that’s a very wise decision, one that you should probably think about yourself, because each time you go through this, you nearly die—”

“Oh, give it a rest!” Mandisa huffed at him.

Thandiwe was staring at Rupert now. “If you had surgery,” she said sharply, “how are you bleeding now?”

Rupert shrank back. “I, um,” he said, then glanced at Winston. “I … had to delay the surgery.”

Mandisa almost smirked at him. “Because?” she prodded.

“Because he was pregnant!” Thandiwe huffed, holding out a hand. “A fool could see that.”

Winston blinked owlishly. “What,” he said, rounding on Rupert.

Rupert laughed nervously. “I-I was meaning to say …”

“You’re pregnant?”

“I,” Rupert said, and Winston practically yanked him up out of his seat. Rupert stumbled. Winston pointed across the room, then stalked through the door. Rupert tossed a backward glance at the alpha’s relatives, then followed him.

“What do you mean, you’re pregnant?” Winston whispered furiously the second he was through the door.

“Well, I—”

He could practically see the gears in the alpha’s head turning as he sifted through the most likely scenarios: that Rupert had gone ahead and found a sperm donor and conceived on his own; that Rupert was sleeping with another alpha; and, top of the list, that Winston himself was the other parent.

“Abort it,” Winston said sharply, grabbing him by the shoulders. “My God, abort it.”

Hearing it was worse than imagining it. “I can’t,” he managed, already feeling his throat close up, tears pricking at his eyes.