Page 22 of Wrong Number, Right Grizzly (Dial M For Mates #7)

RONAN

According to the charts, I still had a week before my due date.

Absolutely no part of me believed the math that had determined that.

I’d already nearly outgrown all of my paternity clothes, got sympathetic looks anytime I went out, and was the size of a house.

Either I was about to give birth to a toddler or a second baby was sneaking along for the ride.

More likely it was far too many cookies, but in any case, I was ginormous.

Up until the past couple of days, I hadn’t minded. For the most part, I left it. It was a visual reminder that I was giving our baby what they needed to grow and thrive. What wasn’t there to love about that?

Then there was a shift a couple days ago.

I moved from being cute. I’ll be a little classy and say I moved on to awkward and uncomfortable.

Getting out of the chair had become increasingly difficult, nighttime Charley horses became the norm, and I kept finding myself out of breath.

Worse than that, I’d been grumpy about it, and saying that laid a veil of guilt on top of all of it.

Nix was great. He’d become the best hype team an omega could ever ask for. He helped me without ever making me feel like a burden and looked at me like he was a dragon and I was his hoard.

I yanked the shirt over my belly for the third time in a row. It was the largest one in both of our wardrobes. I needed about two more inches of length to be suitable for public.

People were just going to have to deal with me flashing my belly at them, because this close to our cub’s birth, I wasn’t buying new clothes.

My omega father-in-law had tried to convince me that buying a bigger shirt was like leaving your umbrella at home during rainy season.

It was almost guaranteeing the baby would be here soon.

Maybe buying a new shirt was a good idea. My impatience was growing. I really wanted to meet our child, like yesterday.

The doctor did offer induction as an option when I told him I felt good and ready to deliver.

It was tempting, but something about the offer told me to hold back.

My body would know when it was time for them to arrive, and until then, we should wait.

Me being impatient wasn’t reason enough, especially not when the doctor sounded like he was doing me a favor and not that he thought we should take that path.

“What do you want for dinner?” Nix came into the nursery where I was rearranging the changing table for the 47,000,000,000th time.

There were only so many places the diapers, wipes, and onesies could go, and I tried them all. Multiple times. Every time I thought I had it perfect, I second-guessed myself. Knowing me, once our baby came, it would be haphazard at best.

“Hmm, I don’t know. What do we have?” We’d played this game too many times. But between my stomach being sensitive and cravings, it was far more complicated than it should’ve been.

He barked out in laughter. At least he took my pregnancy weirdness with humor. “Honey, just tell me what you want. If we have it, I’ll make it, and if we don’t, I’ll go get some.”

“What are you—” I stopped mid-sentence, remembering all the times that we went through everything we had only for me to decide I wanted pizza. Or chicken nuggets. But not any chicken nuggets. They had to be from the diner in town.

“I don’t know. What’s the spiciest place nearby?” I asked. We were hardly in the land of many options.

“I thought spiciness was giving you acid reflux.”

It wasn’t really the spices so much as that mixed with my pregnancy, but he did have a point.

“I read online that spicy food will encourage our little one to come meet us.” I’d fallen down a rabbit hole today when looking at one of the omega-dad-to-be group chats. Most of the old wives tales were more silly than anything else, and none of them were as intense as an induction.

“I see. And will the acid reflux be worth it during labor?”

“Why do you always have to make a point? All right then… I don’t know what we should have. You decide.”

He took out his phone and started tapping away. I’d half expected him to bounce the question back to me again. This was better. My brain was not braining today, and I kept thinking of and rejecting the same three foods over and over again.

“Okay, if you’re looking to meet our little one sooner rather than later, according to this article I just pulled up…

” He turned his phone around for me to see and then back in his direction— “which is 100% valid because it’s called ‘Top Things an Omega Can Do to Bring Their Bundle of Joy Into This World Before They Lose Their Mind,’ we can get you pineapple or dates.

They have raspberry leaf tea here, some, uh, castor oil, and the spicy foods. Does any of that sound decent?”

“I guess I could eat pineapple, but... Okay, I guess we’ll go with pineapple.” I didn’t love or hate pineapple, but if it worked to induce labor, why wasn’t it on the restricted food list for pregnant omegas?

“There are some non-food type answers you can use too. They suggest going for a walk or exercising.” He raked me with his eyes. “And they mentioned a specific kind of exercise.” He closed the distance between us. “It’s my favorite one.”

I thought he was leaning in to kiss my cheek. Instead, his lips went straight to my ear. “And by that, I mean it says sex.”

“It does not say that.” I pushed his shoulder playfully.

He turned the phone around for me to be able to see it. Sure enough, it said exactly that. Not that I needed an excuse. With my mate, I was always ready.

“Well, in that case, let’s worry about dinner later.” I attempted to kiss him, and when I went on my tiptoes, I started to lose balance. It had unfortunately become the norm.

My amazing mate caught me before I fell completely.

“Center of gravity is kind of rough, isn’t it?” He pecked me on my cheek and rubbed noses with mine.

“It is. It’s so bad.” It was increasingly worse by the day. “I hate to tell you this, but I think you’re gonna have to do all the work tonight.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

He took me by the hand and led me to the bedroom. The only reason he stopped carrying me there was because I started to protest… mostly out of embarrassment over my size.

Throughout my pregnancy, he’d told me repeatedly that he thought I was sexier now than I’d ever been. Every one of his actions told me that was true. This was 100% a me problem.

Slowly he took my clothes off, kissing the skin that was exposed and praising each and every one of my stretch marks. It was sweet. And given that I could scent his bear, extremely sexy.

My pregnancy had my senses in overdrive, including my sense of smell. Very quickly, I discovered that if I could scent his animal, it was because his bear was right there at the surface. There was something so intrinsically hot about that, especially during naked fun time.

He helped settle me on my side and then gave me a little strip tease before coming in behind me. I was always down for a good show.

Nix pressed kisses where he had marked me, while he played with my slick entrance. We’d not tried this position before, and I was already loving it.

He slid into me gently, and we rocked back and forth together in a sweet, gentle lovemaking.

No longer was I thinking about whether or not our baby was coming today. My mind was 100% on my mate and how much I loved and cherished him, and was glad that fate had brought him into my life.

That was until his knot lessened and our bodies separated. Then all I could think about was getting my hands on some pineapple.