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“Of course, of course.” Cleaver patted his hand and off they went, stopping only to check in on Andre, who was in the middle of making sandwiches and brewing tea.
* * *
Harrison’s office was empty when Perry arrived, so he settled in one of its armchairs and passed the time in quiet introspection. There was much to think about. Part of him still wasn’t sure that telling Harrison the truth was a good idea, since Harrison, as earnest as he could be, was sometimes careless about the things he said, and there was a chance he might let slip to the rest of the family that Perry was expecting. But it was a risk Perry had to take.
There was something wrong with him, he knew it, and if Everard was only willing to treat him with bed rest and beet juice, a second opinion was necessary.
Several minutes later the door opened, but it was Hugh Drake’s dark-haired secretary, Finch—not Harrison—who stepped into the room.
“Finch.” Perry suppressed his surprise with a smile. “How good to see you. How are you? Are you well?”
A dull look saddened Finch’s eyes. It was nothing like how Perry had last seen him when they’d gathered for the boys’ birthday party several months back, and it was alarming enough of a change that Perry sat at attention.
Something was certainly wrong.
“Did Harrison tell you, then?” Finch asked in a dreary tone.
Harrison had certainly not, but the dots were beginning to connect all the same.
“I would never do that,” Harrison said as he stepped into the room. “I may not have my M.D. yet, but I do know a thing or two about doctor-patient confidentiality, and I would never break it. I promise.”
Finch reddened with embarrassment. “I do beg your pardon.”
“Oh, it’s all right.” Harrison offered him an easy smile. “I’m not mad. It’s a very easy mistake to make, and I’m glad we were able to sort it out before any feelings got hurt.”
Perry’s attention drifted from Finch to Harrison, then back again. The last time he’d seen Finch, poor clueless Hugh had been courting him without realizing it. It seemed matters had progressed since then. Omega secretaries did not make a habit out of paying Harrison Lessardi-Drake house calls. Not unless they were consorting with dragons.
Whatever the case, the distress on Finch’s face was plain to see, and it felt terribly rude to be witnessing him uninvited during such a trying time.
“Would you like me to leave, darling?” Perry asked. “I had no idea you were visiting, and I didn’t mean to intrude. I can wait in another room until your business has been concluded.”
“No. No, it’s fine.” Finch looked miserably at Harrison, then even more miserably at Perry. “I suppose I should get used to talking about it, as word will spread soon enough, and everyone will know. Hugh took my heat and I didn’t catch. I’ve failed to give him a clutch.”
So that was it, then. What a miserable turn of events. Perry’s heart ached for him, for it was a pain he knew all too well.
“That’s not entirely true,” Harrison interjected. “Finch could be pregnant with a dragonet.” He gestured at Finch’s midsection. “I couldn’t detect eggs during his ultrasound, but a fetus would be almost undetectable at this stage. We need to do blood work to accurately conclude what’s happening. Or a pregnancy test, but blood work is way more accurate, and I’d rather do the tests myself than rely on something that’s been mass manufactured.”
The bottom dropped out of Perry’s stomach.
A dragonet.
Finch could be pregnant with a dragonet.
The conversation continued, but Perry heard very little of it. Awful, poisonous thoughts distracted him. In his mind’s eye, he imagined a babe harbored in Finch and saw the life she might one day have. The love, the laughter, and the joy. She would experience all the things his own dragonet children had never been able to experience, would make her mark on the world and be marked by it in turn.
What color would her eyes be?
Her hair?
Would she grow up to be timid and shy, or as bold and colorful as Hugh’s beloved Funfetti?
White-hot jealousy seared Perry from the inside.
If Finch were pregnant, he would get to know all those things that right now, he seemed so ungrateful for. When it came to Perry’s own child—so badly wanted, yet so much at risk—he might never know.
It was a hideous, yet unshakable thought. Hating Finch for being able to have what he couldn’t wasn’t right, but it was easy, and after hundreds of years of heartbreak, it was a hard emotion to shake. But nothing productive would come of being bitter. Thinking ill of someone else would not give Perry the baby he wanted. So he reframed his thoughts.
Finch, much like himself, had been raised to believe that no dragon wanted a human child, and that they were a source of shame. It didn’t matter if none of it was true—it hurt all the same. What Finch needed was support and, more than that, someone to listen. Not to judge.
