Page 310 of The Omega Exchange: Omnibus

“That’s okay,” I say, eyeing the pan of eggs. “I’m not a big fan of eggs either. Are you craving other proteins like meat or nuts?”

I’ve done so much research lately. It’s unreal the vast amount of information there is about pregnancy.

Cravings can be nothing or they can indicate a deficiency in something.

“I don’t know. We know I can’t do bacon anymore, but I was hungry before this.” She frowns. “Dammit, I was fine with eggs until I tried to cook them.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “Do you want me to make you some pancakes or a bowl of cereal?”

“No, not yet,” she groans. “I’ve got to give my stomach a chance to stop hating me before I put anything in it.”

“How about I grab a bowl in case there’s an emergency and we can snuggle on the couch? Your appointment isn’t for another few hours.”

“Yeah,” she agrees solemnly. “Man, I’m actually really bummed about this turn of events.”

It’s hard to keep a straight face. She’s cute as hell at the most random times.

“I don’t think I can hold it anymore,” Mel whimpers, pacing back and forth across the waiting room. Our appointment was close to twenty minutes ago, and Mel has felt every single extra second of wait time. “They’re going to get me on the table, push on my stomach, and I’m going to be sitting in a puddle.”

I frown because that does sound terrible.

“You’ll live,” Carver says, snorting a laugh. “I’m more impressed that you put away half a bag of jalapeño cheese puffs for breakfast. Not even your toothpaste could overcome that debacle.”

It was the closest we had in the house to satisfy the craving she was having for non-egg scrambled eggs with cheese. Yeah, I’m still baffled by that one.

“Ohmigod, does my breath stink?” She slaps Carver in the stomach. “It’s legally your responsibility to warn me of these things.”

“Legally? Is that right? Are you going to press charges?” he asks, snorting a laugh. “I almost don’t want to tell you...”

I raise a hand, swiping it across my throat. Under no circumstances will Melody learn that she has had terrible gas while she sleeps the last few days.

To be fair, some of the concoctions she’s been craving would be hard on even the most hardcore digestive tract.

Miller and I have done our best to mitigate the fact we live with two men who act more like teenagers than actual adults. They think it’s hysterical, but I know it would make Meluncomfortable, so we’re sticking that one in the vault and taking it to the grave.

Nik really isn’t in a place to judge. I’ve smelled him after corn chips and cheese dip with salsa. He’s got no room to talk.

“Stop picking on her,” Miller says, shoving his way out of the too-small chair and heading over.

“We’re just trying to keep her mind off the bladder emergency,” Nik says, smirking.

“It’s so bad,” Mel says, burying her face in Miller’s chest. “I really am afraid I might pee myself. I’m sorry you’re stuck with me.”

“I’m not,” the big guy says, leaning down to kiss her forehead. “I’m sure they’ve had more than one incident, especially since they want a full bladder for the ultrasound.”

“Pregnancy is more embarrassing than I expected,” Mel mutters as her shoulders slump.

The beginning of the ultrasound is questionable.

I’m regretting not thinking to bring Mel a change of clothes, or possibly adult diapers. She’s made several jokes that she’s as dangerous as a potty training toddler.

It’s cute, but we’re all relieved when the technician says she’s got all the important measurements and offers Mel a bathroom break.

She gleefully accepts. Once she’s finished, the tech goes back to scanning and documenting things I don’t understand.

“Okay, so I have to ask—would you like to know what you’re having?” the ultrasound technician asks after a while.

All of our eyes fly to Melody. She blinks frozen for several long beats.