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“I’m a smart guy.”
“Yeah, you are.”
“Now I need to get one for your mom.” Byron laughed out loud. It was music to my ears, and food for my soul. I rested a hand on his distended belly.
We’re almost there, kid. Almost there.
Chapter 9
Trevor
Again, I found myselflooking all over for my mate. It was almost time. It could be any day now, any minute, really. I had recently taken leave from work to be by his side for the big event, but today I had gone into the office to have a meeting with top management and make sure the ship was moving steady. Now that I was home, I needed to check on Byron.
“Honey?” I called, checking the human bedroom in the main mansion first since he was sleeping or resting a lot lately. The bed was empty.
I strolled down the football field of a hallway to the library, where he spent a lot of his time when awake, because he was such a brainiac.
“Babe?” I poked my head in, but the only one there was one of the workers, who popped their head up with a quizzical expression on their face. “No worries, just looking for Byron. I’m guessing he’s in the Tall House.” I backed out of the room and went downstairs, to the new bedroom I built for giraffe-sized him to be more comfortable. I’d taken to calling it the Tall House as a joke, but the name stuck.
Inwardly, my leopard was pacing. Something was going on with him, I could feel it. If my mate was having our baby, I needed to get to him immediately.
Bryon was, indeed, in the tall house. He was stretched out on the bed, in human form, his forearm over his eyes. Mom sat on the edge of the huge bed next to him, speaking softly to him.
“Sweetheart. There you are.” I kicked my shoes off and climbed onto the bed with my suit still on.
Byron held out a hand for me, and I was quick to settle in next to him. He wrapped an arm around my waist, repositioning himself so his head was in my lap.
“How are you feeling?”
“Weird.”
“Weird how?” I looked over at Mom, desperate for some kind of clarifying information.
“He says he’s been feeling some pressure and some contractions. I don’t think these are those Braxton-Hicks practice ones. I think these are the real deal.”
“They don’t hurt?” I asked, stroking Byron’s hair.
