Page 157 of The Don’s Omega

“Yeah, I know. Everyone likes that about me.”

He chuckles, but then says, “I was glad Salvatore wasn’t there.”

I grunt but say nothing. I try not to think about Salvatore. He’s retreated to his estate. He rarely goes to the club anymore and doesn’t attend many functions. Some people are confused about the change in him, and I’m sure it’s awkward for him. He can’t very well explain what happened.

On the few occasions where he is at the same party or meeting I’m at, he makes himself scarce. Smart man. What happened with him is not a black-and-white issue for me. A part of me wishes he was dead so I wouldn’t have to think about him anymore. But another part of me feels sorry for him. The lie my father told made things worse, not better. But Salvatore was still responsible for his actions and that’s what makes it complicated.

What occupies the majority of my thoughts is Elio and the pregnancy. He’s now twenty-four weeks and life is filled with doctor’s appointments and shopping for baby stuff. The nursery isn’t done yet. We can’t decide if we want to know the sex of the baby or not. I don’t think we want to know, even though it would be more practical. But practicality has never been something I concerned myself with.

Elio is in the kitchen when I get home. He’s wearing one of my dress shirts, the sleeves rolled to his elbows, the tail hanging past his thighs, his sweatpants pushed low under the bump. He’s leaning against the counter eating crackers from the box and reading something on his phone.

I stop in the doorway and watch him. He has earbuds in so he didn’t hear me come in. There’s something about seeing him in my clothes that gets to me. Something possessive, tender, and deeply primal. I like seeing him wrapped in my clothing. I like the idea he likes wearing my clothes. Elio has tapped into a more sentimental side I didn’t know I had. I don’t dislike it. It’s weird but nice to feel emotions I’ve never felt before.

He looks up and smiles, tugging one of his earbuds out. “You’re finally home.”

“Yes, I am.” I cross the room and kiss him, tasting salt from the crackers. My hand finds his rounded belly and I sigh contentedly. “How are you feeling today?”

“Fat. Uncomfortable. Your child won’t stop kicking my bladder.” He sets the crackers down. “How was the meeting?”

“Short and uneventful. Just as I predicted.”

“That’s good, right?”

“Of course.” I kiss him again. “Looking forward to the scan later today?”

“Yep.” He glances down at his belly. “I know the baby is fine. Healthy. I can sense it.”

I laugh. “Is that right?”

“Yep.”

I smack his ass. “Well, you better go change. You can’t wear my shirt and sweats to a doctor’s appointment.”

“Okay, okay.” He shoves another cracker in his mouth and then closes the box. Then with a salute, he heads upstairs.

We arrive early to Dr. Vasquez’s office. The waiting room is empty today, which I don’t mind. Sometimes there are omegas there with their other kids. For some reason the kids always seem to have runny noses and coughs. I don’t need Elio catching a cold while pregnant, so I always give the kids dirty looks to keep them at bay. It doesn’t always work though. Half the time they just giggle because they think I’m playing.

The nurse calls us back. The exam room hasn’t changed since the eight-week visit. The watercolor of the coast on the wall, the paper-covered table, the ultrasound machine in the corner. Elio changes into the gown and lies back, and I pull the chair close and take his hand. His fingers are cold.

Dr. Vasquez comes in with a file under her arm. “Good morning. How are we doing at twenty-four weeks?”

“Good,” Elio says. “Tired. The baby has decided that three a.m. is party time.”

“That’s common. Your daytime movement rocks them to sleep, so they wake up when you stop moving.” She opens the file. “Any pain, bleeding, unusual swelling?”

“No. Just the usual stuff. Heartburn, back aches, needing to pee every forty-five minutes.”

“Wow, you make it a whole forty-five minutes? You’re one of the lucky ones.” She smiles. “That’s all normal, by the way.” She looks at me. “And how is Dad?”

“I’m Elio’s rock,” I say, smirking.

“He’s being sarcastic, but he really is my rock. He rubs my back almost every night.”

I meet his gaze. “Awww. Thanks for making me look good in front of the doctor.”

He just laughs.

“Glad to know you can lean on your alpha, Elio. That’s important.” She sighs. “Okay, as you well know, the echocardiogram is today. We’ll take a look at the baby’s cardiac structures. Given Fabio’s history of hypertrophic cardiomyopathy, we want to look at the ventricular walls, the septum, and the outflow tracts. At twenty-four weeks, the heart is developed enough to get a clear picture.” She meets my eyes. “Most cases of HOCM don’t present this early, but the echo will tell us if there are any structural concerns we need to monitor. Sound good?”