Page 23 of Wrong Number, Right Fox (Dial M For Mates #6)
GARNER
“We should have done this earlier.”
“Say diaper blowout,” the photographer told us.
Joss and I giggled, lightening the mood at our pregnancy photoshoot. We should have scheduled it last month but Booker’s photographer friend was busy and today was the first time he could fit us in.
We were on den land, and with the sun shining, the wild flowers in bloom, and the tall grass waving in the breeze, it was a stunning location to have our photos taken.
Ralph, the photographer, issued more instructions.
“To the left a little, Garner.”
“That’s perfect, Joss.”
“Can you look at one another, please?”
He had a box full of props. A fox stuffie and signs that read, “Counting the days til you’re here.”
We’d brought the fox bicycle helmets and tiny shoes and baby clothes.
“I hope my bladder lasts until the end of the shoot.” There were no buildings on the den land, and I should have hired a portable potty, but Joss insisted he could pee behind a bush no problem.
“Garner, I’d like you to kneel and kiss Joss’s belly, please.”
I caressed my mate’s bump and placed my lips on his paternity shirt. Joss put a hand at the back of my head.
“Don’t move.” Ralph snapped away.
My mate was pressing his hand harder on my scalp, but I didn’t want to complain and ruin the shot. He was squishing my face on his big belly, and the world went dark as my eyes and lips were squeezed into the fabric.
“Babe,” I mumbled. “Not so hard.”
Joss’s body clenched, and his bump was harder than it had been seconds earlier. It had to be indigestion or acid reflux because he’d been suffering from both as the birth date drew closer.
“Maybe a little less grunting and more smiling, Joss. Shall we try again?” Ralph pleaded.
My mate let out a long breath and released me. I got up, thinking we’d end the shoot and head home. Joss had been sitting, also in my arms, and now he was standing and it was too much. He should be on the sofa holding lemonade with his feet up.
“I think Joss is tired, Ralph.”
“Perfect timing. I have everything I need. Wanna have a look?”
“No!” Joss’s screech had Ralph freeze, the camera extended in one hand.
“Ummm, okaaaay.” He backed off.
“That was a contraction. The baby wants out.”
Ralph’s eyes bugged out, and he held up his hands. “I know nothing about birthing babies.”
My gaze rested on the sign that read, “Counting the days til you’re here.” It couldn’t be today. We weren’t at home or the shifter birthing unit Joss had chosen because he wasn’t comfortable bringing the baby into the world without medical professionals assisting.
“We’ll get you back to town.” I unlocked the car and took my mate’s arm, but after a few steps he doubled up in pain and panted.
Instinctively I breathed with him, and for those seconds, I experienced a sense of, not calm, because my mate was in pain, but as if this was meant to be.
We were following in the footsteps of generations of shifters.
But once Joss’s body stopped cramping, I tried to pick him up, but he declared we’d never make it back to the city
“Ralph, make yourself useful and google birthing a baby in the woods.” Shifters had been bringing babies into the world by themselves since time began.
I needed hints as to what I should be doing.
“Wait, there are towels in a bag in the trunk and a blanket and cushion in the back seat. Also grab wet wipes from the glove compartment.”
Booker and I had started playing squash, hence the towels. And despite being hotter than normal, thanks to the little one inside him, Joss had taken to turning the car air-conditioning to freezing and covering himself with a blanket while I shivered beside him.
“What are the towels for?” My mate scrunched up his face.
“No idea, but they need them in the movies.”
Ralph deposited the items I’d asked for on the ground and then edged his way to his vehicle.
“Hey, we might need your help. Don’t go.”
Joss squeezed my shoulder. “Let him leave. There’s nothing he can do.”
“What?” I’d be alone with my mate, and I had no idea what to expect, despite watching videos and going to shifter birthing classes.
Knowing the doctors and midwives at the birthing unit would step in had been reassuring, and my job was to support my mate.
That was my role. Not to be a birthing coach.
“But he could… ummm…”
“Don’t you dare say take photos.” Joss rested his head on my chest and grunted as another contraction wrapped around his belly.
“No, I thought he could… ummm… hold the towels.”
“I trust… m-my body to tell m-me what to d-do.” Joss’s voice had a touch of certainty buried beneath the doubt. He’d been emphatic that the baby should come into the world in the birthing unit, but now there was a stretch behind his words. And I couldn’t argue with a laboring omega.
“Okay, go. We’ve got this.” Joss may have, but I didn’t, and I watched Ralph leave as a man would being left alone on a raft in the middle of an ocean.
My mate insisted on pacing around the car, leaning on the hood or me when another contraction gripped his belly.
“Lay the blanket on the grass in the shade.”
With his clothes off, the breeze kissed my mate’s belly, and he’d never looked more beautiful. I wished Ralph was here to capture this moment, but it was fixed in my memory.
After helping my mate onto the blanket, he turned around to face me, and I squatted while he kneeled and grunted as more contractions took hold of him. When he said he was ready to push, I sat behind him, and he rested his arms on my legs.
I lifted my head and studied the landscape, seemingly so calm while our lives were a frenzy of contractions and nagging doubts that I could be the alpha Joss needed me to be.
“Laurie, Archie, Mac, Stefanie, Katrina.” Joss let out a stream of names.
“Babe?”
“We haven’t chosen a name,” he said between pants. “And I’m chanting any name that pops into my head. It helps somehow.”
Joss dug his elbows into me as he bore down. “Bob!”
He fell back, gasping mouthfuls of air. “This is hard.” He leaned forward, every sinew in his body straining with him as he pushed. “Marigold, Nancy, Herbert, Eddie.”
I wiped sweat from his face each time he finished pushing.
“It feels… it feels like… I don’t know.” My mate sobbed, and I held him tight with one hand and wiped away his tears with the other. “Can you see anything?”
His limp body suggested he had little strength left, but he had to get the baby out. And this would have been a good time to have a third person here. One who would support my mate while I checked the baby’s progress.
Do you know how to do that?
In the movies, they always yell that they can see the baby’s hair .
I peered over Joss’s shoulder between his legs, but the angle was wrong and I couldn’t leave him.
“How about trying to feel for the baby?”
He gingerly put his hand down. “Oh my gods, Garner. I can feel the baby’s hair.”
Huh, maybe I should pay more attention to medical dramas. Seemed like they had a clue.
“Ocean, Angela, Tamzin, Eric.” Joss grunted and groaned, and now I could see the head.
“That’s the hard part, babe. Yell those names. You’re doing this.”
“Sammy, Thorn, Tanisha, and freaking Gerald.”
The baby slid out, and I crawled to my mate’s side and picked up the squirming little bundle. Wrapping him, the baby was a boy, in a towel—now I understood what the towels were for—I lay him on Joss’s chest and tucked the cushion behind my mate’s head.
Covering them both with more towels that were so useful, I put a hand on our son’s back, enjoying the warmth of his tiny body.
“Can’t believe he’s here.” Joss kissed our son’s damp head.
I grabbed the sign we’d used in the photo and dug a pen from my shirt pocket. I drew an arrow from the word “days” and wrote “zero.”
“May I take a pic? Just for us, not to share.”
Joss nodded, his heavy lids beginning to close.
I selfied the three of us with the sign, both new dads kissing our son.
He’s so small . My fox was shining through my eyes at our newborn.
That’s how human babies are born . Most babies were small at birth, even elephants, though the word small was relative for them.
“You need to sleep, babe.” The sun was sinking, and I needed to get my family home. Tucking our little boy under one arm, I helped Joss to the car. Thank gods we’d been testing how to set up the infant car seat—a feat that took a lot of practice—so our little one was safe on the drive.
“Where have you been?” Booker was sitting on the front step. “I’ve been calling you. We were supposed to play pickleball.”
“Joss has been busy.”