Around them, pictures of babies and baby animals covered the walls. Pastel colors filled the room. A tinkling lullaby played in the background, and baby magazines were strewn across the chairs and tables, with adorable little faces smiling up at the reader. A young girl smiled up at her mother, swinging her legs.
Dale pressed his hand to his belly, filling in the form. At the line for his alpha’s name, he paused, thinking about Greg. He wouldn’t implicate Greg in this; Greg was far too young. So Dale left the space blank, wincing when he filled in his age.
At the counter, the receptionist’s eyes widened when she scanned his form for blanks. Dale swallowed. She probably knows it’s a risky pregnancy. She smiled at him, though. “Thank you, Mr. Kinney. Please have a seat.”
He flushed, retreating to his corner.
To kill the minutes, Dale pulled his phone out. Looked up Greg’s Facebook profile. Greg’s name was at the top of his search history; Dale had been following his page for the past weeks, secretly saving selfies that Greg had posted. In those photos, Greg sometimes smiled, but it was a tiny one, like his heart wasn’t in it.
Greg didn’t use to share pictures of himself. But he did now, and Dale had no idea why. Was he advertising himself? Looking for a new omega?
There was a new photo, posted two hours ago. It was faded out with some photo filters, cropped to show Greg’s lips on someone’s abdomen. Dale’s stomach twisted. You found someone.
Except he recognized the tiny mole right next to the omega’s navel. It was Dale’s belly, and that picture was of them, taken two months ago, when Greg had given him the rabbit onesie. Dale’s heart raced.
Beneath the photo, there were a few comments. Who’s the lucky omega? That a baby? Who did you hook up with?
Greg hadn’t replied to any of them. He didn’t know Dale had been stalking his Facebook—at least, he shouldn’t. Dale had been talking to June, giving her updates on the pregnancy. In return, June told him when Greg dropped by the lab, offering to help with more research.
Dale swallowed. He missed being in the lab. Missed his experiments, his humming machines, the glint of fluorescent light on glass vials. Did he regret meeting Greg? If he hadn’t met his alpha, he’d still have his job now.
In the clinic, a nurse opened a door, calling out a name. Dale jumped, glancing up.
He almost didn’t want to see the doctor. Didn’t want to do the tests, in case bad news came up.
He breathed in, then out. No, he needed to do the tests—there were things he would need to know now, and he needed to be brave.
Dale looked back at the photo. It had been taken so long ago. He still knew the touch of Greg’s lips, knew the warmth of Greg’s smile. What would Greg do if there was bad news?
Suddenly aching for his alpha’s voice, Dale looked at the contacts on his phone, his thumb hovering over Greg’s Call button. He’d spent weeks listening to the same voice recordings, playing them on loudspeaker so their baby could hear its other dad. But Dale had memorized all of those messages now, and he wanted to hear Greg say something different. Have Greg next to him, just lending a shoulder for him to lean on.
Dale held his breath. If he doesn’t answer, I’ll take that as a sign. I’ll hang up and forget I ever called.
Heart thudding, he hit the Call button, and pressed the phone to his ear.
Greg answered after three rings. “Dale?”
His voice rumbled into Dale’s ear, sharp and concerned. Dale sank bonelessly into the chair, his heart squeezing. Greg’s voice was so familiar, and he hadn’t thought he’d hear it again. The tightness in his chest eased.
“Dale?” Greg said, his voice tinny across the line.
In the background, children shouted, and whistles beeped. Greg had to be at his coaching job, then, standing in a sunny field, dressed in coaching slacks and a T-shirt. The image burned into the backs of Dale’s eyelids, vivid and precious.
“C’mon, I know you’re there,” Greg said.
Dale didn’t answer. He hadn’t meant to start a conversation. Hadn’t even thought of what he’d say to Greg, if Greg answered the call. And now that Greg was speaking in his ear, Dale felt like he’d cry if he started talking. He hadn’t realized he’d missed his alpha this much.
The nurse opened the door again, announcing another name. Dale jumped.
Greg heard it, too. “Where are you?”
The clinic, Dale wanted to say. I’ve missed you so much and I don’t want you to stop talking. Instead, he kept silent, breathing in, listening to yells and laughter and the sough of Greg’s breath.
“Tell me,” Greg said.
Dale squeezed his eyes shut. They weren’t supposed to be doing this. Bernard Hastings could find out. And Greg was supposed to be looking for a new omega. Dale shouldn’t be dragging him back into the past.
“Look, if you aren’t talking, I’ll hang up,” Greg said.
Dale’s stomach dropped. “No,” he blurted, then regretted it immediately. He should’ve just shut up. He shouldn’t have called Greg at all.
Greg breathed out, and Dale imagined him closing his eyes, phone cradled to his ear. “How’s the baby? Is that where you are? The clinic? Are you sick?”
And now Dale wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. Greg wanted to know everything. It was just like him, and Dale loved him, and he should be ending this call before he begged for Greg to return.
“C’mon, don’t stop talking,” Greg said. “I haven’t heard from you in two goddamn months.”
If Dale had any self-restraint, they wouldn’t have talked for the rest of their lives. “I’m waiting for the ultrasound.”
Greg sucked in a breath. “How’s everything else?”
“I don’t know.”
“Gods, I should be there,” Greg said. He paused, as though he were looking around. “Where are you? I’ll come.”
“You’re working,” Dale said, his pulse
