Harris would smile, grab a drink. And Valen would set Sam down quietly, pad over to Harris, and sneak his hands down Harris’ pants. Harris would raise his eyebrows when Valen grabbed his balls. Sam told me to do it, Valen would say. Then Harris would look at Sam, and Sam would give him the most innocent look.
Except sometimes, it really was Sam’s suggestion. Like the time Valen gave Harris a bouquet of dahlias, or the time Harris marked the undersides of Valen’s feet. Valen had all but skipped to work that day.
It was during one of their cooking lessons, three months into the pregnancy, that Sam asked, “Are you guys free on the twenty-first of next month?”
Both alphas paused in their slicing, looking up. “Why?” Valen asked, his brow furrowing.
Harris wiped his hands off and pulled his phone out. “Looks like we’re off that day. Work the next day.”
“Oh,” Sam said. Then he squirmed. He’d been contemplating how to ask this question, ever since Harris and Valen folded him into their relationship. “Wyatt’s getting married that day. He, um, he asked if I have a best alpha to bring along. He wants me as his best omega.”
Harris cocked his head. “He should have some alpha friends, shouldn’t he?”
“Wy’s marrying his stepbrother. He doesn’t really want many people there.” Sam shrugged. “It’ll be a small ceremony, maybe fifteen, twenty people.”
“Valen can go,” Harris said. “I’m old, anyway.”
Valen frowned, elbowing Harris in the side. “Can we both go? And be your best alpha?”
Sam’s cheeks grew hot. Almost sounded like they were getting married, didn’t it, if both of them went with him? Got dressed up all nice, with ties and suits? “I thought about it. But I really don’t want to steal any of that attention—it’s not my day, it’s Wyatt’s.”
“What do you think your day would be like?” Valen asked. “The three of us getting married?”
Sam held his breath. He’d wondered about that, too. He looked between Valen and Harris—neither of them was opposed to it. “You want to get married?”
“Why not?” Valen grinned, looping his arm through Harris’. “Three of us? Is it even possible?”
“For us to marry Sam, yes. Alpha-alpha marriages aren’t acknowledged here.” Harris glanced at Valen. “Would you be okay with that?”
Valen’s smile slipped. “I want to marry you, too, Big H.”
Sam held his breath. It wouldn’t be fair, would it, if his marriage to either Valen or Harris were legal, but Harris and Valen’s wasn’t? “We probably shouldn’t,” Sam said. “I’d rather you both get married—I mean, it isn’t fair to you.”
Valen’s shoulders sagged. “But two marriages is still better than none, isn’t it?”
Valen had gotten together with Harris first—Sam was the newcomer. Even if they both bonded with him... Harris also loved Valen. And even if marriages weren’t a necessity, they were nice to have.
“We could get married in one of the other states,” Harris said to Valen. “If you want.”
Valen brightened.
“We’ll talk about marriage some other time. It’s probably too soon right now,” Sam said, squirming. Maybe when he felt more comfortable in his place with Harris and Valen. “I promised Wyatt I’d handle the reception, too. Would either of you like to help with it?”
“Sure,” Harris said.
“I’ll help.” Valen nodded. “Does Wyatt need another best-alpha? I could stand in. Then you can pair off with Harris.”
Harris frowned.
“I promise I’m not shoving you both away,” Valen said, raising his hands. “I want to see Sam all dressed up. And you too, Big H.”
That, Sam could agree with. “I’ll ask Wyatt,” he said. “In the meantime... if you’d like to help with the reception, I’ll need to get you both better with knives. And broths, and baking, and all that. It’s... a lot to learn.”
Suddenly daunted, Sam wondered if it would be better if he did all the cooking himself. He’d been discussing a five-course meal with Wyatt. Two appetizers, two entrees, and a dessert. Most of it required different kitchen skills.
“I’m game,” Valen said. “And so is Big H.”
Harris snorted, rolling his eyes. “Thanks for volunteering me, V.”
“Anytime.”
Sam hesitated, peering at Harris. Harris smiled and reached over to stroke Sam’s throat. “Yeah, what Valen said. I’m in.”
“I told you,” Valen said. Harris slapped his ass. “Bastard.”
Sam smiled to himself, pulling out the next set of cucumbers—they were learning to carve food today. “Right, let’s carry on.”
“So, this friend of yours, Wyatt,” Valen said a week later, in the middle of a cake-icing lesson. “I’ve seen him—he looks like he’s about to pop. When is his baby due?”
Sam winced. “Next month.”
“And the wedding is also next month.”
“Yes.”
Valen exchanged a look with Harris, then Sam. “Please don’t tell me he’ll go into labor right at the wedding.”
Sam had discussed it with Wy. “They’ve been planning the wedding since last year. They booked the venue and minister in advance... before Wy found out he was pregnant. I guess they wanted to take their chances.”
It wasn’t exactly the best idea in the world, but if your water broke right as you were exchanging vows, well. It would be something to remember.
Sam laughed. “That’s why I volunteered to handle the reception. There’s no way Wy’s going to do any of that at nine months.”
Harris smiled, shaking his head. “Let’s not do that when you’re at full-term.”
“We won’t,” Sam said.
“What about before?” Valen perked up. “While your belly’s all swollen with the baby.”
Valen set his piping bag down, rounding the island counter. Sam raised his eyebrows. “You’re supposed to be icing your cake.”
“I want to fill you with cream.” Valen grinned, slipping his arms around Sam’s waist. Then he tugged Sam’s shirt up, peering over Sam’s shoulder.
Sam’s belly looked the same as it did last week—a little rounder at three months. He leaned into Valen, watching as Valen cupped his belly, his warmth soaking into Sam’s body.
“How big will the baby be when it’s born?” Valen asked.
“Full-term, about six to nine pounds,” Harris said. “Roughly a foot and a half long.”
That sounded
