Roseville Romance

by Lorelei M. Hart

  Hazel turned around and laughed, slapping me on the arm. “Trust me, he didn’t do it alone. But we enjoyed it. Made about a thousand ghost gummies to sell at the shop while we were at it.”

  I bent down to address Anderson. “What do you think, dude? This is awesome, right? It’s all for you?”

  Anderson grew serious and looked at me. “I don’t have to eat all that, do I?”

  We all cracked up, and I assured him he didn’t have to. He looked sleepy so I hugged Liam goodbye and said something to him about paying him back for the amazing display. He responded by telling me that he not only expected the new display to make sales jump even higher, he expected a reward for being such a good alpha.

  He would so get a reward.

  “Anderson, let’s get you home. You look sleepy.”

  “I am. But I don’t hurt anymore.”

  Well, that was something.

  We drove home, and I carried him inside. He had fallen asleep as soon as I put the car into drive. I tucked him under the covers in my little guest room after taking his shoes off and sat down next to his bed. I wasn’t ready to leave him alone yet, afraid he would wake up scared in a strange place. I’d taken the whole day off to help him settle in.

  That display was spectacular. And you were yesterday as well.

  I put the phone down, thinking he would be busy but got a response almost immediately.

  Spectacular, huh? And here I thought that was you.

  I sighed like a schoolboy and did a little happy dance but quietly.

  Can I make you dinner tonight? I texted, already needing to spend more time with him. It would be difficult to balance it all, but we would work it out. We had to. Liam was mine.

  That sounds perfect. Can I bring dessert? As in cake, not my body.

  He included a wink face.

  Bring both, please. Seven.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Liam

  We did figure out how to be quiet, although it was a challenge, because we’d spent our last night apart. Once I’d claimed my omega, seeing him after we finished our work days became the focal point of my life. I had not been able to get my application for foster parent in until the day after we took Anderson home because setting up the window display took all day, but it went in the next. And bless Amy for leveraging it through in record time because on the day before Thanksgiving, we were in the process of moving my new family into my townhome. After a record-breaking Halloween, and a very nice November at the shop, Edison and I sat down and discussed the possibility of selling my current place in favor of a white-picket-fence style single-family dwelling, but since the complex had some features our foster son really enjoyed, like the indoor pool...we put that off for a while.

  With everything going on, we were grateful to receive an invitation to Thanksgiving dinner from one of the families whose son came to My Sister, My Brother. Robbie was a great kid whose dad, Patrick, was going to be Anderson’s dentist—we hadn’t mentioned his appointment next week yet—and his other dad, Damon was a photographer. After adopting Robbie, they’d had a little girl who was just over a year now, and I had to admit their success gave me ideas.

  Amy warned us that despite the violence Anderson had suffered, the county’s policy was to try to keep families together, so if his dad jumped through enough hoops, he might get him back. The very thought chilled me to the bone. Our little guy still had a cast and often woke up crying from nightmares. I hadn’t realized how thin he was until he was with us a few weeks and started to fill out some. His cheeks were rosy, and during the day he laughed often, loved his video games, and had joined the basketball squad at the club.

  Only at night did his fears come through. We took him to the counselor regularly, but the counselor warned us that he could not share what they discussed without Anderson’s permission—which he had not yet granted. I wanted to know, to help him, but feared knowing what he’d gone through would make me so angry, I might lose all control.

  He was carrying in a huge box of video-game gear, and Edison came to stand next to me. “You’re spoiling him, you know,” he said, giving my arm a little pinch. “He could open an arcade with all that.”

  I rubbed my arm, declining to mention that the actual stuff in the box was only the tip of the iceberg. Most of Anderson’s acquisitions were digital. We’d fallen into a habit of playing for an hour after homework, dinner, and bath, he and I, while Edison did the dishes and packed lunches. He made them for all three of us after learning I often had a candy bar and nothing else all day.

  And, of course, while we played, he managed to get me to buy stuff.

  It had hit the ridiculous point, and I made a silent promise to cut back. Silent because I didn’t want to admit to my omega just how much there actually was. Instead, I just said, “Are arcades even a thing anymore?”

  “You know what I mean. I propose that in the future, we discuss the presents we buy him.”

  I studied his face, cheeks flushed and gaze not meeting mine and knew the truth. “You are doing it, too, aren’t you?”

  He shrugged, reddening further. “Let’s just say, he’s an operator and if we aren’t careful, he’ll own us.”

  “Good point. Except he already does.” I enfolded my embarrassed omega in my arms, and he rested his head on my chest. “He’s a great little guy.”

  “Yep. But let’s go with no more toys or games for the next month. Christmas is coming.”

  “It’s going to be awesome!” I couldn’t wait to get a tree and decorate it and wait for Santa.

  “Epic. But do we have an agreement? No more gifts until Christmas, and in the future we agree on purchases. I mean for non-necessary things.”

  I headed back to the truck for another armload of boxes, Edison at my side. “I agree, and that brings up something else to consider. We are a couple, we are forever, and I think we should combine our assets. You know, checking, real estate...all that stuff.”

  He faced me, gripping a box of clothes. “But most of the assets are yours.”

  “That doesn’t matter.”

  “And that’s what married people do.” He was as smart as he looked.

  “Right.”

  Edison paled and the box slid from his hands. “I-I-I’ll be right back.” He ran for the open front door, clutching his stomach. I’d expected surprise, maybe happiness? But I’d never thought my casual proposal would lead to nausea. That didn’t bode well for my answer.

  Before I could really get upset, Anderson came tearing out the front door. “What’s wrong with Edison? He’s in the bathroom gagging and stuff. Is he okay?”

  Shit. “Oh he probably ate something that upset his tummy.” Or heard something.

  “It’s gross. If you’re sure he’s okay, I’m gonna stay out here until he’s finished.” Without waiting for an answer, he hopped up into the back of the moving truck and moved boxes around, hunting for something or other. The two teens from the center we’d hired to help us wheeled in and out with their dollies loaded with cartons and furniture as if they’d seen nothing off—which I so hoped they hadn’t.

  And me? My stomach hurt, too, so I just added Edison’s box to the top of the one I held and trudged into the house to keep moving him in. If he was that opposed to marrying me, to making it permanent, why had he agreed to live with me? Sure, I had a better place, but he was no gold digger. Look at his reaction to sharing bank accounts. And while we’d never said the words, I loved him and thought for sure he loved me back. A day that started so amazing had just tumbled into the depths, leaving me doubting everything I’d been so sure of.

  When Edison emerged from the bathroom, I asked how he was, he said fine now, and mumbled something about the breakfast burritos we’d gobbled from a less-than-savory roadside stand. A hundred times that day I wanted to address our previous conversation, but I was so nervous that he’d shut me down entirely. I’d never felt as confident about anything as I had about his reaction to my suggestion. Also, we had Anderson
and the teenage movers underfoot, and by the time we finished, it was dark and we were exhausted. Just too tired to address the elephant in the room.

  Thanksgiving morning, I opened my eyes determined to talk to Edison, but found a little body between us, his superhero pj’s pinning the covers down. I’d learned day one that when there was a kid in the house, naked sleeping was not a thing so I also wore pj’s and a T-shirt, as did Edison. We looked like a family with all our habits lining up.

  When I moved to sit up, Anderson’s eyes snapped open and he grinned at me. “It’s Thanksgiving! We need to get dressed and go over to Robbie’s. I’m bringing my new football game to play in his system.”

  It was impossible to be totally depressed with his smile staring at me in the early morning light. Or rather, not so early. Turned out we’d all slept in after our busy day and we really did have to hurry to get ready to go. Patrick and Damon were making a day of it with all kinds of activities before dinner.

  As our little guy bounced on the bed, Edison groaned. “Anderson, the bed is not a trampoline.” Funny, he’d never felt that way before...had done a little bouncing of his own, but this time he grabbed his stomach and sat up. “Those burritos are still...I’ll be back.”

  Anderson dropped to sit on the bed, all his happiness gone. “Did I make Edison sick?”

  I tugged him in for a hug. “No way, buddy. It’s just the burritos.”

  “I hope he feels well enough to eat Thanksgiving!” Kids did have their priorities straight.

  “I think he will. Go take a shower and get dressed. And don’t argue because I know you didn’t have one after all the moving yesterday. You are one stinky kid!”

  He giggled, his bubbly personality back after my reassurance, and bounced out of the room while I stood and went to the bathroom door. I rapped softly. “Edison, you okay?”

  “Come in.”

  I twisted the handle and entered to find him sitting on the closed toilet seat. “Do we need to cancel dinner? Go to the hospital? I don’t like your still being sick.”

  Because yes, our relationship conversation mattered, but not as much as his health.

  He shook his head. “No. I did feel awful, but now I’m starving. Let’s make some breakfast before we go.”

  “O-okay. I’ll shower first and then get it started. What do you want?”

  “Pancakes bacon, sausage...maybe eggs? Oh and potatoes.”

  What on earth?

  Chapter Fourteen

  Edison

  Halfway through the elaborate breakfast Liam made me, I was sick again, but determined to get to our first Friendsgiving celebration as a family.

  Anderson loved Robbie, and it was good for Liam and I to have some conversation that didn’t revolve around bills or dinosaurs or PTA meetings.

  Not that we joined the PTA. We avoided that like the plague.

  And we’d also avoided the conversation about the M word. Or I brushed it under the rug. It’s not that I didn’t want to marry Liam. The gods knew I did.

  In all honesty, my emotions were all over the place lately, and either I was crying while throwing up in the bathroom, or I was giddy as all fuck.

  How do you bring up that subject again? Oh, sorry I had to throw up during the most romantic yet basic proposal ever, but I’d like to tie the knot after all.

  No, the throwing up was the burrito, not the thought of marrying you—promise.

  Lame.

  But something told me I needed to clear the air. I looked to the back seat as we drove to Patrick and Damon’s house and saw Anderson with headphones on, very involved in some YouTube channel.

  I had to take the chance.

  “Liam, can we talk before we get there?”

  He turned to me and then back to the road. “Talk, talk? Or like, how’s the turkey?”

  I chuckled and put my hand on his thigh. “Talk, Talk.”

  “Of course. We have a few minutes before we get there. Talk, omega mine.”

  Gods, I loved when he called me that.

  “About yesterday, the checking account and assets and…”

  “You running away when I asked you to marry me? That part?” He took my hand in his and brought it to his mouth to kiss my fingers one by one.

  “That part the most.”

  He sighed and turned onto another street. “Talk to me, love. If you don’t want to, it won’t change anything about us. I’m yours, wedding ring or not.”

  A tear welled in my eye. “I want to be your husband. I just get nauseated all the time. It must be the stress and everything happening. I’ve always been a worrier.”

  “So the thought of marrying me didn’t make you want to blow chunks?” He laughed and leaned over to kiss me at the next stop.

  “Never. I know we’ve never said...I love you, but I do, every cell in me loves you.”

  He said nothing further. A few minutes later, he parked along the curb in front of Patrick and Damon’s street. He asked Anderson to go in before us and make sure to have fun playing with Robbie.

  As soon as we were alone, he took off his seat belt and turned to me. “Say it again, my love.”

  “What? That I want to marry you?”

  He shook his head, and I watched him gulp. “Say you love me again. I’ve waited for those words.”

  My hands went directly to my hips. “I’ve been waiting for them from you. We’re a pair, aren’t we? Of course I love you. Duh,” I rolled my eyes and mimicked Anderson.

  “I love you so much, omega. Duh. And I’m gonna be the best husband ever.”

  I giggled. “You already are. Now, let’s get in there before they think we’ve decided to make out in the car.”

  Liam grabbed my face. “Let’s save that idea for later.”

  We grabbed the sides we’d brought along with a ham that Liam had basted with something that smelled like his candy shop. He said it was a top-secret recipe.

  I didn’t tell him that it made me almost gag when I smelled it. Something was definitely wrong with me, and I’d made an appointment with my doctor for the next Monday just in case.

  “Finally! I thought we were going to have to call the make-out police.” Patrick welcomed us with a smile and Damon was inside, cooking up a storm. Everything was decorated for Thanksgiving. There were cornucopias on the table bursting with fruit and in-shell nuts. Plates in the colors of fall decorated the table, and even the chandelier that hung in the dining room had little handmade turkeys.

  “I can’t keep this one off me,” Liam joked about the make-out police and settled his dishes in the kitchen.

  “That’s the way it is in the beginning. Edison, you’re practically glowing. I can’t believe it,” Damon said. I didn’t understand his glow comment but chalked it up to being with Liam. That was enough to make anyone glow.

  Damon brushed his hands off on his apron before putting on some oven mitts and getting to work on taking out something from the oven.

  Something that smelled awful.

  Yet the rest of the people in the room were rubbing their stomachs and oohing and aahing.

  “Are you sick again?” Liam rushed over and turned me away from said oven monstrosity.

  “Is he sick?” Patrick asked.

  “Gets nauseated all the time. Throws up at the drop of a hat.”

  “Uh,” Damon groaned from the other side of the kitchen. Maybe he’d gotten the memo about his food. “That happened to me for the first three months. Solid. Either I was puking or begging for food. Hormones are real bastards.”

  I turned and pinched my nose. “The first three months of what?”

  Patrick and Damon looked at each other, and I tugged on Liam’s sleeve to see if he knew what was up.

  Damon cleared his throat as Patrick whispered something in his ear.

  “Um, never mind. You know what? I’m sleep-deprived and goofy with all the pumpkin lattes the dentist keeps bringing home. Ignore me.”

  Something was definitely up.

  Bu
t then just as I intended to press Damon for info, my brain cleared and there was only one possibility.

  Puking.

  Emotions.

  Three months.

  Hormones.

  “Oh, fuck me,” I said, holding onto Liam’s arm for strength. Patrick chuckled and said something under his breath about that’s how I got here in the first place. “I’m an idiot.”

  “What is it?”

  My mate was an idiot, too. Not really, but we were blind with stress and new things and the kid.

  “I’m carrying your babe, your gorgeous silly man.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Liam

  We changed the appointment from Edison’s family doctor to a local midwifery. Luckily, they were able to fit my omega in right away because I didn’t like the constant stomach upset. He’d managed Thanksgiving dinner, but I could see it was a strain. The only thing that distracted him enough to actually eat was the company. Best Friendsgiving ever.

  Patrick’s receptionist, Hal, and his dental assistant, Suzi, were in attendance as were a few others, most notably Kipling, who just happened to be Anderson’s counselor. At first, we were afraid it was a problem to be at a social event with a therapist who was working with our foster son, but as he pointed out, we lived in a small town. Everyone was going to run into everyone at some point. As long as we didn’t discuss anything confidential, it was cool.

  And it was encouraging to see our boy select a seat between Kipling and Hal, across from Robbie, and have a terrific time. He was so far from the scared, hurting little boy of just a few weeks earlier, it both lifted my spirits and made me even more anxious about his future.

  If parenting was this nerve-racking, maybe I should get some therapy myself…

  Edison, on the other hand, now that we realized why he was sick, was the soul of calm. Still throwing up every few hours, but I caught him reading some pregnancy guides on his eReader, and he’d begun carrying a stainless steel water bottle everywhere, “hydrating.” Sounded smart to me.