Page 51 of Executives' Omega
“Because you’re worried about being a bad one.” He rubbed a hand up my back. “You’re putting your baby first. A bad papa would put themself first, and you’re not doing that.”
I sniffled again and burrowed into his embrace. “Ok.”
I still didn’t feel it, but I trusted him.
Footsteps pounded through the mansion a few minutes later as my mates arrived.
“Hey sweetheart,” Linden murmured as he took a seat beside Owen and I. “How are you feeling?”
I sniffled. “Contractions suck.”
He rubbed my leg. “I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do?”
I shook my head.
“Ok. We’re all right here if you need anything.”
Jace talked to my mates, telling them how far apart my contractions were, and that my labor seemed to be progressing faster than his.
“Do you want to go to one of them?” Owen murmured after several minutes and another contraction.
I shook my head. “No…”
“Ok.”
“He’s fine,” Zane stated, having overheard, despite our lowered voices. “Unless you need a break, Owen. We discussed this—that he might need your presence in particular—during a recent group session with his therapist. You’ve always made him feel safe, and he’s known you longest. A lot is happening both physically and emotionally right now, and his default for the longest time was to go to you. We’d like it to be one of us, but right now it’s about what Ryan needs, and he needs you.”
“I spoke to the birthing center,” Alonzo stated a moment later. “They’re ready whenever we arrive.”
I nodded against Owen, then a sense of relaxation washed over me. My protector was there, as were my mates. They were taking care of things.
Maybe I wouldn’t be the best papa, but my baby would still have the best life… because of the people around me.
“Go ahead, Bug,” Owen whispered. “Get some sleep if you can. I’ve got you. I’ve always got you.”
∞∞∞
The bedside lamp was the only light on in my room at the birthing center.
My mates, plus Owen, were all asleep in the pull-out chairs that had been brought in to accommodate everybody.
But I couldn’t sleep; couldn’t tear my eyes from the golden-skinned baby nestled in my arms.
We’d all decided that whichever father he looked like most would be the one to name him, and it was clear as soon as a nurse placed him on my chest: Alonzo had really been the one to mark me.
Our son had beautiful soft brown hair and golden tones to his skin. We didn’t know yet if he’d inherit Alonzo’s brown eyes, or my more gray-blue ones, but it didn’t matter.
Our son was perfect.
“Raphael,” I whispered, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead.
“Like an angel,” somebody whispered.
I turned to see Owen smiling softly at me. He got up and walked over.
“Hey,” I murmured, “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
He smiled, leaned in, and kissed my forehead. “I’m going to head out.”