“I love Phil,” Dale said, snuggling closer, his hair tickling Greg’s cheek. “Phil Hastings sounds like a good name.”
“Phil it is,” Greg said. He leaned in, nuzzling Dale’s belly. “Can’t wait to meet you, Phil. Your dad and I have been waiting a long time.”
Dale stroked his fingers through Greg’s hair, smiling.
The idea of being a dad was still alien to him, a little. He was twenty-two. His friends were more concerned about the next basketball game, or their schoolwork, but those had lost their importance now. Greg was looking forward to his baby, and the sleepless nights his friends had joked about.
“I’m glad I’m in this with you,” Dale murmured, squeezing Greg’s thigh.
“I’m glad, too,” he said.
The bonding marks on their wrists gleamed in the soft light, and Greg leaned in close to his omega, finally content to wait.
Phil Hastings took his time to be born. Dale panted and heaved, his grip so tight on Greg’s hand that Greg thought his knuckles might fuse together.
With a cry, Dale pushed, and the midwife lifted the baby up, Phil’s skin covered in a mess of fluids. The midwife cleared his nostrils, and Phil sucked in a deep breath, wailing.
After all those months of thinking the pregnancy might fail, the sound was only too welcome.
Greg met Dale’s relieved gaze. Dale sank back into his pillows, sweat matting his hair, his eyes half-lidded.
“You did great,” Greg whispered in his ear, kissing his temple. “I’m proud of you.”
“I’m not sure I want another baby,” Dale whispered back, his grip loosening around Greg’s hand. “This fucking hurt.”
“You’ll want another one,” Greg said, kissing him on the lips. “Maybe not now, but I know you, Dale. You’ll love all your babies.”
“Fine. But don’t you dare try giving me another baby right now,” Dale said.
Greg laughed, brushing Dale’s hair away from his forehead. The past nine hours had been agonizing for Dale—first the wait, then the contractions, and Dale had been in such pain that Greg felt bad for him, felt helpless for not being able to do anything for his omega. But Dale had held through the pain, birthing their baby.
Greg dropped kisses all over Dale’s face, leaning back when the midwife stepped over with Phil.
Dale cradled the bundle, a smile blooming on his face. Greg couldn’t believe how tiny their baby was. It would barely fit in his hands, and he was afraid of accidentally hurting it. But Dale pressed a kiss to Phil’s little face, and Greg relaxed a little. He’d watch his omega, learn how to do all this. So they could both do the parenting right.
Greg pulled both of them into his arms, protectiveness surging through his chest. Both Dale and their baby had not come easily to him. And as he looked down at his family, he knew he’d do whatever it took to keep them safe.
Their wedding took place six months later, in the middle of June. When the stress of being new parents had eased a little, and when semester had ended for Greg, they held a little ceremony on the outskirts of Meadowfall, on the edge of the surrounding woods.
Greg had let Dale have the final say on the wedding decorations—from their suits to the forest ceremony, from the hibiscus bouquets to the coffee-and-macarons reception. It was to be a small wedding, with family and friends, and a few of Dale’s ex-students from the lab.
Dale had invited the basketball team along, too. Greg was relieved to see that there was no judgment on his friends’ faces when they congratulated him and Dale. Sam Brentwood from the bookshop was there, along with Kade and Felix Brentwood, and their two-year-old daughter.
In the midst of paper cranes hanging from the trees, Greg and Dale stood together, June and Cher in the front row holding on to a beaming Phil. He was dressed in the rabbit onesie, wearing the pink booties Greg had proposed with. It didn’t quite match their black-and-white suits, but Dale had grinned when he saw their baby. And that had been all Greg needed to agree on that outfit.
In the last row, Greg’s parents sat together, his dad’s face austere, his mom’s eyes lit with a quiet joy. Greg hoped they wouldn’t make a fuss. There would be no asking the audience for objections—not today, not this wedding.
With the birds twittering overhead and a cool breeze rustling through the trees, they exchanged their vows.
Not for the first time, Greg admired his omega, the quiet intelligence sparkling in his eyes, the kindness in his smile, the way he beamed up at Greg, seeing Greg for who he was.
Greg took Dale’s hand, brushing his fingers along the silvery scar at his wrist. Strands of gray glinted in Dale’s auburn hair, more than there was a year ago. Their relationship and the pregnancy had taken its toll on Dale. But his eyes crinkled when he smiled, and he was beautiful, both inside and out.
Greg didn’t care about ages and employment and everything else, when Dale bowed his head and said, “I do.”
“Do you, Greg Hastings, take this man to be your lawful omega?” the minister asked.
“I do,” Greg said, his throat tightening.
In the privacy of their bedroom, their bonding marks had meant I will always be there for you. But here, in front of the audience, their oaths meant a different thing. That they were unafraid of their relationship. That they would no longer apologize for it. And it took a weight off Greg’s chest, one he wasn’t aware of before.
“You may exchange your rings,” the minister said, holding out the two silver bands.
Greg took the smaller ring, Dale’s hand slender in his own. He slid the ring onto Dale’s finger, watching as Dale blinked back his tears. Then, Dale slid the larger ring onto Greg’s finger. It sat warm on Greg’s skin, and for a moment, he admired all of this. They were now
