“I’m sure you’ll find someone,” Ian said. Thought about reaching over, just to pull Olivier into a hug.
In some ways, Olivier felt like a younger version of himself. Kind of lonely, kind of lost.
“Thanks,” Olivier answered. “Say hi to Brad for me. And also—congrats.”
Olivier glanced at Ian’s belly, smiling faintly.
Ian touched his abdomen, feeling the tiniest flutter of his baby kicking. “Thanks.”
He headed out of the store, glimpsing Olivier through the glass storefront. Saw the omega pull out a sandwich from a paper bag.
Ian realized he was hungry. He’d left the college as soon as he could, skipping lunch to drop by the music store. There wasn’t enough time in the day—he’d left work five minutes earlier than he should, and he would be late for his ultrasound appointment if he didn’t hurry.
The sandwich, though... Ian thought about a dill pickle and ham sandwich, layered with egg and mayo. The tartness of the pickle, the smokiness of the ham, the smooth mayo and hard-boiled egg.
There was no place in town he could think of that made a sandwich like that. It was cheaper to throw one together at home, anyway.
Ian pulled out his phone, checking for messages. There was one from June.
Harold was in the lab a few minutes ago. He was looking for you. I told him you were off for the day, but he didn’t seem happy. You took the day off, right?
I thought I did. Ian frowned. Had he? There had been so many things going on, with Gwen’s recovery from the surgery, and Ian settling into Brad’s house, that he thought he had informed the department.
What if he hadn’t?
Ian bit his lip. He tapped on his phone, but the college website was down. Couldn’t log in to check. The website’s down. I can’t check if I did, Ian wrote to June. Please tell me if there’s anything urgent you need me for.
June answered quickly. Will do. Take care.
Ian flipped through the rest of his messages, disappointed that Brad hadn’t answered. Brad was probably still asleep. He’d gotten home late this morning after two hectic calls in a row, and he had barely remembered to shower before he fell into bed.
He’d kissed Ian though, sleepily, and Ian’s heart had skipped.
Ian couldn’t wait to get to the prenatal clinic. Maybe Brad might wake up in time to join him there. Ian couldn’t wait to see Brad’s smile again, breathe in Brad’s walnut scent.
He sent Brad a quick text. I’ll be at the appointment soon. Afterward, can we get a pickle/ham/egg&mayo sandwich? I’m having a craving.
Ian hit Send, and tucked the phone back into his pocket. Breathed in the quiet air of Meadowfall’s downtown—the shops here were quaint, all brick and mortar, and the April sunshine warmed his skin.
When he crossed the street to his car, he found his mother walking down the sidewalk, pushing along a cart of groceries. She was getting old. Ian had forgotten the last time he’d spoken to her. Two years ago, probably. She still looked the same.
Yvette McMillan was a sullen omega, her lips perpetually pulled down, her white hair tied back into a tight bun. She was shorter than Ian, thin, and her eyes were narrowed.
Ian froze, dread filling his gut. Six yards away, she hadn’t seen him yet. He held the tiny bag from Olivier’s strings over his belly, knowing that if he darted, or tried to hide, she would look up.
What do I do?
He turned away. Wrapped his arm around his belly, wishing, for once, that he’d worn something baggier.
“Ian? Is that you?”
Ian’s heart clenched. He turned and found his mother pushing her cart over, her shrewd eyes analyzing him from head to toe. “Hi, Mom,” he croaked. He wished he were doing better with his life, so she wouldn’t look down on him. “How have you been?”
Then her nostrils flared, and he knew what she smelled on him—Brad’s walnut scent, and the honey of his pregnancy.
She looked at him, her lip curling. “You’re pregnant?”
Ian held his breath, his skin growing too tight. “Yes.”
“You’re almost fifty, aren’t you?” She frowned deeply. “I’m surprised you’re still capable of carrying a child. Will it have Down’s syndrome?”
He swallowed, his heart sinking. He’d been trying not to think about that. “With any luck, no.”
Yvette looked askance at him, waving him off. “You’re a child of ill luck, Ian. People are best off without you. Are you even wearing the same alpha’s marking? Or have you found another to leech from? I’m surprised an alpha even wanted to take you as their own.”
Ian glanced around, his face burning when he found a couple of onlookers. He looked away from them, pretending he didn’t exist. He wanted to burrow into the ground.
“I’m doing fine, Mom. You don’t have to worry about me.”
“I wouldn’t waste my breath worrying about you.” She scoffed.
Ian gulped, his heart heavy.
Decades ago, Ian had looked up to his mother, wanting her approval, wanting to shine in her eyes. He’d tried his best. Skinned his knees trying to get onto the track team, burned his hands trying to make his own dinner.
He’d never succeeded, though. She’d given birth to other children, and she’d used him as a bad example in front of Tony and Bill. Ian had grown up under the scorn of his siblings, and he’d never held on to his friends, when his mother would tell them the most humiliating things he’d done.
Ian blew out a breath, turning away. She was his mother, and he should treat her with respect. He hadn’t the energy to deal with so much negativity, though.
“It’s a wonder you even have an alpha at all,” she said. “They’re probably just waiting for a better omega to come around. No one likes defects, Ian.”
With that, she turned away, pushing her cart down the street.
Ian stared at the bag in his hands, feeling
