Searching For His Omega - Harper B. Cole Page 0,29

against the plastic chair in the waiting room. The eyes of other omegas—who were all accompanied by their alpha partners—were on me. I responded by trying to make myself smaller and gripped my knee to stop the shaking just as my name was called.

With a final glance out the door, I followed the technician to a small room and asked about changing into a gown, but he said it wasn’t necessary. “Get on the examination table, pull up your shirt, and wriggle your pants and underwear down.”

“Okay.”

Perhaps it was my small wavering voice that had him pause. “Will anyone be joining you?”

“H-He was s-supposed to but…”

There was a commotion outside in the corridor and a raised voice yelled, “Stan? Where are you?” A door opened and someone shouted, “Get out.”

“Oops, sorry.”

I recognized that ‘oops’. “I’m here.”

Chet burst into the room, almost knocking over the technician who huffed about being on time. “I made it.” He took my hand, and I placed it over my heart.

“I’m glad.” And I was. I wanted him to experience these milestones with me. First ultrasound. Baby’s first movement. Cravings. Mine, not his. Labor. Delivery. Birthdays and Christmases. Whoa, Stan. Back up. One thing at a time.

“Ready?” the technician asked.

“Wait!” Chet outstretched his arm as the guy was about to squirt gel on my slightly rounded belly. “Can you warm up the gel? I’ve read it’s cold.”

“It’s okay,” I told him and nodded at the technician to go ahead.

After squirting the sticky stuff on my skin, I giggled as the guy ran his wand over the area, and the screen lit up with a grainy picture.

Chet turned his head to one side and then the other. He whispered in my ear, “I can’t make out anything?”

“Good thing I’m here to explain it,” the technician said. A thump, thump, thump filled the room. “And that’s the…”

“Heartbeat,” Chet and I finished his sentence.

“Is it a boy or girl?” Chet asked.

“Too early to tell. The little one is yea big.” He pinched his fingers together until they were an inch apart.

After confirming there was only one baby and the approximate due date, he handed me paper towels to wipe off the gel. Then he printed off a pic and left us alone. I ran my fingers over the grainy black-and-white image. “We made this, Chet. This is our baby.”

“Now it’s real,” he told me and kissed my forehead. “Let’s go for lunch.”

We sat on the restaurant terrace that overlooked a garden full of fragrant summer flowers as we ate our Chinese food. For all Chet’s far-flung travels, he hadn’t mastered the use of chopsticks, and food flew on the floor, the table, and me.

“Would you like a spoon and fork?” I asked as he tried to pick up a grain of rice and I used a napkin to rub a stain off my shirt.

“Nope. I can do this.” The baby might be a year old by the time he’s done, but okay.

He had the ultrasound pic on the table between us and fingered it every few minutes. After we’d finished eating and the waiter replaced the tablecloth and swept food off the tiles, Chet picked the picture up and studied it. “I want to be a great dad.”

“You already are. You’re here and present in this baby’s life. I can’t predict the weather or whether the stock market will rise or fall tomorrow…” I squeezed his hands. “But one thing I know for certain is that you are and will be an amazing father to our baby.”

He gave a rueful smile. “Thank you.”

“Some alphas in your position would have run away.“

“Like my father.”

This might explain his reaction to my pregnancy announcement. “He left before you were born?”

“Not exactly. He was in and out of my mom’s life when she was carrying me. And after my brith, he was interested enough to hang around for a while. And when he left, there were Christmas and birthday cards until I was five. After that, radio silence.”

I hardly dared ask the next question. “And your mom?”

“She died a few years back.” He traced the ultrasound photo again.

I was estranged from my own family as they never approved of me working in the hospitality industry instead of becoming a doctor like the rest of them. So while my loss was a conscious decision, I’d experienced the gaping hole that opened in your heart after losing a loved one.

“I can only imagine how much you miss her, but love doesn’t die. That love is