Eric pressed his palm to Olivier’s belly, his gaze soft. “Quit worrying,” he said. “We’ll be fine.”
“I hope so,” Ollie said, breathing Eric’s scent off his chest. If he sent their dad a message... would it help repair things for Eric and the family?
36
Eric
“I have a surprise for you,” Ollie said one morning, when he was thirty-eight weeks pregnant.
Eric froze, fingering the rings in his pocket. “What surprise? I have one for you, too.”
Their gazes locked over the kitchen table. “You go first,” Ollie said.
Eric weighed his options. He’d planned out the entire day. He was going to propose. Then they’d take the day off, go to the park, and feed the ducks at the lake.
That was, if Ollie agreed to marry him. If he didn’t, well. Life would go on as usual. But if they could get married, if Ollie could be legally his...
Eric’s stomach fluttered. “Why don’t you start,” he said. “Omegas first.”
Ollie snorted. “Yeah, right. And I’m telling you to go first.”
“No, you.”
“Eric.” Olivier narrowed his eyes, even as his lips twitched into a smile. “I want you to go first. So I’m not ruining any of your plans.”
Eric sighed. There was no winning against Olivier when he was this pregnant. Especially not when the baby would be here any day, now. He stood and rounded the table, stepping over to where Ollie set a meatball in Jenn’s bowl. “I want us to go down to the store. Now.”
Olivier lifted an eyebrow. “It’s 9AM. You want to head there now? It’s not even open yet.”
“I know that.” Eric gulped, running his fingertip over a ring. Was it worth it, packing up everything just to go to the store? So he could propose?
He’d arranged for Levi to go down early, with his phone fully charged. There would be videos.
Of Eric making a fool of himself, and Ollie maybe saying yes.
When Olivier hesitated, Eric paused, uneasy. “Would that be interfering with your surprise?”
Olivier made a face. “Kind of? But it’s not a hassle.”
“You’re sure.”
“Yes!” Ollie kissed Eric’s fingers. “Let me get ready. I just...”
He fumbled to stand. Eric helped him, admiring the sheer size of Olivier’s belly. Alice had been this round with Jenn, too.
Some days, the memory of Alice still hurt. But Eric could think back on those times with fondness now; sometimes, he even imagined Alice with himself and Olivier, Alice saying, You know he’s going to want a foot rub. Don’t forget the foot rub, Eric.
Other days, Eric moped, and Ollie handed Jenn to him. She was eighteen months old now. Eric saw Alice’s fieriness in her, the way Jenn protested when they told her no.
So he did still have part of Alice with him, and that was good, too.
He helped Ollie out of the kitchen, keeping an eye on Jenn while his bondmate got dressed. Ollie’s belly stretched his shirt, round and precious with their child.
Eric leaned in, kissing his abdomen. Ollie grinned.
It was a short ride to the shop; Ollie tapped on his phone, and Eric sang along to a song with Jenn in the backseat.
When they showed up at Olivier’s Strings, the front door was unlocked, and Levi was there.
Ollie frowned, confused. “Levi? What... You’re supposed to start work at ten.”
Levi grinned, waving from behind the counter. “Eric said it’s okay if I opened the shop early. I get an extra hour of pay.”
At Olivier’s increasingly-suspicious stare, Eric shrugged. Then he pulled a chair forward, and helped Olivier into it. “Sit.”
“I’m not an invalid,” Ollie said.
Eric ducked his head, catching Ollie’s lips with his own. Ollie’s protests died immediately; he opened for Eric with a low purr, his mouth damp and soft, his hair wispy against Eric’s fingers. It was amazing, how easily he accepted Eric now.
“I love you,” Eric whispered. “So fucking much.”
Ollie blushed, watching as Eric let Jenn loose on the store. Jenn raced up and down the aisles, her little cheeks rosy.
Then Eric picked an acoustic guitar off the racks like he hadn’t done it fifty other times, and Olivier’s mouth fell open.
“You play the guitar?” Ollie asked.
“Just started recently,” Eric said with a shrug.
Behind the counter, Levi bit down his laughter. Eric had been coming down to the store for an hour every day, learning to play the guitar while Ollie was at home with Jenn.
Olivier eyed Eric uncertainly; Eric caught him glancing at the guitar model—because of course Ollie had to know which exact instrument Eric was using.
“The Cajola is a good choice,” Olivier murmured.
“I heard you liked this one.” Eric grinned. Before Ollie could ask more questions, Eric began to play.
It was the first few notes of Stories With Us—the song from their childhood, the song with which Eric had practiced harmonizing his voice with Olivier’s.
The moment Olivier recognized the song, he froze, his fingers curling into the chair’s armrests. “Eric—”
Instead of answering, Eric began to sing.
“Under the stars on a lonely night, when all the world’s alone, I’m somewhere out there in the world, my love is overgrown.
“My tears are shed and my voice is thin, but my love is like a stone. If I could be a shooting star, my feelings for you will be known.”
Ollie’s eyes grew wide. He gulped, looking as though he wanted to smile or cry, or join Eric on the floor.
Except Eric sang a third verse, one that he’d written and Ollie had never heard before.
“And if I could have my love tonight, if my love would be mine, I swear to the heavens and the gods, my heart will always shine.”
Eric stepped forward, kneeling in front of his omega. As the last notes hummed in the air between them, Eric reached up, catching Olivier’s hand. Ollie’s gaze lingered on him, heavy and disbelieving.
So Eric fished the rings from his pocket. “Marry me,” he murmured, pressing the rings into
