Page 92 of Glitterati Omega

Seventeen

R

upert really wished mama thandiwehad waited five minutes for him to be out of the van, perhaps even into the house, before she said, “No wonder you were somoody.”

“Moody?” he huffed.

“Mm.” She nodded, then looked pointedly at his middle, then back up to his face, her eyes still comically wide. “I should have guessed. A good midwife would have known you were expecting.”

“But I wasn’t—”

“You’re a fine midwife, Mama,” Winston said.

She waved her hands, then turned inside. “Ndileka!” she hollered. “Ndileka, come here and see what your son has done!”

“Perhaps,” Winston said gently, sidling by Rupert, “we could come in and sit down?”

Mama Thandiwe startled, then eyed Rupert warily. “I suppose,” she said finally.

“Thank you,” Rupert murmured, thinking of how nice it might be to sit down on something other than the seat of the van that they’d had to drive out in. It had been a long trip, and as much as he wanted to get up and move, he was also too sore to keep standing. Nothing was comfortable at all. He wasn’t even sure lying down would give him relief.

He almost walked smack-dab into Ndileka, who put her hands on her hips and glared at him. “Who said you are welcome in my house?” she sniffed at him, her gaze narrowed menacingly.

“Mother,” Winston sighed as Rupert stumbled back into Thandiwe, who caught him by the arms, barely keeping him upright.

“Mother,” Mama Thandiwe scolded, “look at him. You’d be cruel to make an omega in his state stand out here while you decide if you can welcome him.”

“Hnnnn.”

“Mother.” Now Winston sounded like he was pleading.

Mama Thandiwe leaned over Rupert’s shoulder, shaking a finger at her wife. “Mother, you will let him sit down. I am not going to deliver your grandchild today.”

“I’d hope not!” Rupert cried, eyes widening. “I’m not due until January!”

Both Ndileka and Mama Thandiwe stared at him. “January?” Ndileka echoed.

Rupert nodded. Mama Thandiwe shook her head furiously, turning him around. “No, no, there must be some mistake.”

“January,” Rupert repeated. “January 11.”

She held him at arm’s length, looking him up and down. “No,” she said. “You’re farther along than that, you’ll deliver sooner.”

He shook his head.

“I have been a midwife for longer than you’ve been alive. You think I don’t know these things? They’ve made a mistake, you’ve been expecting longer than twenty weeks. You’ll have this baby—”

“I don’t seehow,” he interrupted, “considering I know the exact date they implanted the embryo.”

She was silent for a very long moment, her lips pursed. “Twins,” she said finally.

“No, not that either.” He felt his cheeks heating up. “I’m just—”

Thandiwe nodded her head. “Having twins.”

“No, no—”

“I’ll swear it!” she cried.