Page 24

“How about a milkshake?” I asked once we left the office and were walking home.

“How did you know? I was just thinking about a cookies and cream frosty milkshake. Not the healthiest, but I want it so badly.”

“Then you shall have it. Anything for you, omega.”

We went home and after drinking the shake, my omega needed a nap which I happily joined him for but not much sleep was had.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Rue

We’d come a long way in a relatively short time. My little home was under construction, with the addition coming along and my mate spending all the time he wasn’t helping at the shop and watching over me like a mother hen supervising the workers. I’d suggested we hire a general contractor, but he’d just laughed and pointed out how much time he had on his hands.

His investments still took some of his time and, of course, he also had his days at the Trash Panda and was considering writing a book. But the expansion of our home was his passion project. He’d been wanting to make his own house as cozy as he considered mine, and bought a lot of furniture and painted it that lovely shade of cream with the lavender trim. Now that it was a short-term rental, he’d decided he had a flair for remodeling and decorating, and I had to agree. When we’d decided to move him into my place, he’d bought about twenty gallons of the cream and five of the lavender and said he was going to use it at our home. I’d laughed at that, as well as at the furniture, housewares, linens, and everything else in a POD rental parked in the driveway.

“I want to be able to furnish each room as it’s completed,” he asserted while building the crib for newly finished nursery. “If I have all the stuff right here, there’s no delay.”

It was a good plan, but one that had us parking our cars on the street.

We were adding a wing almost larger than the cottage it was being added onto, and he went over each and every detail with me, making sure I liked it before bringing it to fruition. I was due anytime, and he was determined to have the new master suite and nursery ready when our daughter was.

Fortunately, he’d brought the glider up first and insisted I sit in it while he did all the work. I had my feet up and a cup of herbal tea at my side. “I just don’t see why I can’t help at least a little. I feel lazy.”

“You’re the supervisor, remember?” he said. “I’m counting on you to make sure I put all these pieces together properly. This is my first nursery.”

I chuckled. “And you think it’s not mine? Seriously, you are doing a fantastic job. You put that crib together in less than an hour.”

“And now it’s on to the dresser.” He got out the box cutter and slid the packaging. I’d also suggested buying the nursery furniture already put together, but he was too excited about doing it himself. If it hadn’t been for the fact that the master suite wasn’t quite done—I hadn’t been in there in a few days, but it had had a ways to go—and he had at least another six or seven hours in here, I might have told him about the pains that were coming closer together.

Unless these were Braxton Hicks contractions, which I doubted, we’d be lucky to have the nursery ready. I’d have to give birth in our old bedroom instead of the new fancy one. I didn’t mind, but my mate was so excited about the new one…

A contraction came on, tightening my belly with a streak of pain, and I did my best to control my breathing. The dresser was almost done. Maybe that was enough? But no, he was working on the changing table. Then the toy box, hanging the curtains, making up the crib with the adorable sheets that matched them. Little baby animals of all kinds danced their way over the sheets and curtains. The floor rug was laid down.

One thing after another fell into place while I surreptitiously timed my pains.

When he set the diaper pail in the corner and turned to face me, his smile dropped. “Omega, what’s wrong?”

“Is it done? Everything?” I asked, one hand pressed to my stomach as if that would make the pain stop.

“Just about.” He set a stuffed bunny on top of the dresser and arranged a set of baby grooming items we’d received as a gift next to it. “That’s it.”

“It just looks great,” I said. “I have something to tell you.”

“How long have you been in labor?” Pascal dropped to his knees beside the chair. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You wanted everything to be done.” I struggled to stand up and sank back into the chair. “I guess I need a hand to get to our bedroom.”

He hopped up and bent, putting one arm under my knees and the other behind my back. “Arm around my neck, omega.”

“You can’t pick me up. I’m big as a house,” I protested, but he scoffed.

“Of course I can. It’s just you, my omega, and a tiny baby.” He moved to open the connecting door to the master bedroom instead of the hallway, shifting me to free up one hand. What was he doing? “As soon as I get you in bed, we’re calling Quinn.”

“Alpha, I know you want the baby born in our new room, but it’s not—”

He swung the door open and I gasped. “It’s not what, omega?”

“When did you finish it?” The room was every bit as cozy as the cottage but bigger, with its own bathroom and a seating area. All the bedding and things we’d ordered were in place.