Page 55 of Galaxy Between Us

“Right away, Mr. Beckett,” Raul hustles to get the monitor set up.

“He’s really excited to be a father,” I explain as Knox stands jittery beside me.

“They’re always like that with the first…and the second. And the third,” Raul grins.

I giggle and lie back on the exam bed while Knox squeezes my hand. He lifts my gown without being prompted and kisses my belly. I roll my eyes but pat his head affectionately. Big, happy Alpha.

“Alright, we’re almost set. Just go ahead and rub this gel on his stomach,” Raul hands the bottle to Knox who excitedly accepts the task, zoning in on my stomach with unnecessary precision.

“Ooo, that’s cold,” I mutter as he applies it gently.

“I’ll warm you up later, baby.”

“Knox!” I warn him to behave, but Raul is smiling fondly at our interaction.

“That looks good. Now, if you look up at the screen, I’ll guide this camera across his abdomen until we find where the little one is hiding.”

Knox and I nod at the instructions, eyes glued to the black and white monitor. It’s so weird that that’s the inside of my stomach!

“It’s dark in there,” I frown dramatically. “Poor baby.”

Raul chuckles, focusing on dragging the camera around the goo on my belly until he lands on the perfect spot.

“Oh! There it is!”

“Holy shit,” Knox mutters in complete awe. “That’s our baby!”

Tears of joy burn our eyes as we observe the curled figure sitting in a pouch that contracts with the rhythm of my heartbeat.

“I can’t believe we made that,” I whisper with gratitude.

My whole life I’ve been conditioned to think that I can either be a traditional Omega or a rebellious one who wants to work. Now look at me balancing both lifestyles! A few weeks ago, I was a participant in a world-changing space project, and now I’m mated and pregnant with my first child. Omegas can do fucking anything!

The stage lights are burning my retinas, but I try to hold my composure. Now is not the time to make Omegas look bad. I wish my pregnancy symptoms would chill out a little and give me a break. At least while I’m at work, addressing an audience. The nausea has eased up tremendously, but now I’ve been rather irritable in place of it.

Yesterday, Knox made one comment after work about his back hurting, and I had snapped at him. He said he understood, but I cried in his arms anyway, muttering my apologies. He’s been so patient and resilient through this whole pregnancy. I haven’t been. My stomach is big and heavy. My lab coat doesn’t fit. I want this thing out.

Knox swears that it’s sexy seeing me waddle around, sweating down to my ankles, but I think he’s only saying that so I don’t cry. Which I do a lot.

Like when I saw a stray dog eat a butterfly last week and couldn’t handle it. The dog was so cute and hungry, but the butterfly was so pretty and dead. Life is so fragile.

Standing beside me on stage, Knox reaches over to squeeze my hand in encouragement, sensing my discomfort through our bond. I try to focus on his touch and not the overwhelming scent of the damn carpet in the large conference room. It’s like I can smell every nasty, stained fiber. Whose fucking feet made it smell so bad?

Forcing a smile, I gaze across the audience, listening to the speaker wrap up the conference. I still can’t believe that Comet XI is engineering an Omega program. Not only are we getting an Omega section in the library, but there will also be a new job opportunity for Omegas to work in the cleanrooms as entry-level assembly operators.

Again, it’s not the highest position, but it’s one step above cleaners and assistants, which is huge progress. Inspired by my innovation on the TIS telescope, the board of Comet XI decided that educated Omegas will be suitable operators due to our quick and tiny hands. Pretty soon, they’ll be able to see that some of us could become technicians, and then engineers.

I’m so proud of Knox for being a part of that meeting and giving Omegas a voice. I may have also been able to weasel my way into the board meeting for a few minutes. With Knox looking them in the eye with a dangerous threat in his gaze, they were each willing to listen to me and my opinion on the matter. We agreed that I will be like a supervisor for the first wave of Omega operators to give them a warm welcome to Comet XI, unlike the cold welcome I received on my first day.

One of the board members questioned how my pregnancy status will interrupt my work. I pointed out that I was already standing there on the top floor talking to her whilst pregnant. What difference would it make if I was standing on the bottom floor, talking to a group of Omegas while pregnant?

“We now open the floor for questions,” the speaker announces, stepping away from the podium.

Knox nudges me encouragingly. I glance at him over my shoulder. He wants me to be the one taking questions? Reading my gaze, he gives me a sharp nod, eyes shining with love and respect. Smiling at my mate, I take the mic as cameras flash like a lightning storm. The warmth of Knox hovering over my shoulders gives me encouragement.

Hands shoot into the air, begging for me to pick them. My cheeks heat, faced with such an odd sensation of authority.

“Um, you may begin,” I point to a friendly-looking Alpha up front. The room quiets and a microphone is shoved in her face.