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After tucking up my mate, and on his instructions, I apologized to the tin solder and sat him between the two eggs. “You’re now an official guardian.”

Sheridan reached out and stroked both eggs, mumbling that they were our babies. I covered him and the eggs with a blanket and glanced away as I wiped my tears.

“You don’t have to pretend you’re not crying.” Sheridan yanked my arm.

“Dragons don’t cry much.”

“Dragons are like everyone else, and they can cry when they’re happy or sad.”

We lay together, and my mate closed his eyes, but I was alert. I’d proven the flight and the law wrong. I had mated a human, helped build this nest, fathered two babies, and now I was a dad. Every law they’d thrown at me was a lie, and it’d taken a human who couldn’t scent me to prove that.

16

SHERIDAN

Moonridge was having a get-together in the courtyard, and I really wanted to go. But also, leaving my eggs was not going to happen. This meant we had to come up with a plan, and my mate did, in the form of two baby carriers.

If parents could wear their babies, why couldn’t we wear our eggs? I’d never consider taking them outside of the building and into the world of humans, but the courtyard? Absolutely. Our eggs were so beautiful, and everyone wanted to see them. Most had stopped by the apartment to catch a glimpse and say hello, but this would be their first official outing.

We’d done some test runs to make sure that they felt secure when on, and they did. Although, there wasn’t going to be any game playing by me—nothing that required me moving too quickly, just to be sure. It was going to be difficult enough to leave the apartment as it was.

Radley helped me out with my carrier, and then I with his. We had extra padding in the form of a pillow so that each of our little ones were snug against our chest and then cushioned by the fluffiness.

“I’m bigger than when I was pregnant,” I teased.

“You look wonderful.” He kissed my cheek and then grabbed the huge container of potato salad we’d made for the potluck. And by “we,” I meant my mate did. I sat with the eggs. There was always one of us with them.

Being on the third floor was fine. I didn’t mind walking up, not even when I was pregnant. But there was a fear to walking down with my egg snuggled in close. I wrapped my arm across my chest, held onto the handrail, and walked ever so slowly, step by step. My mate probably thought I was overly cautious, and let’s face it, I was. But I couldn’t risk anything happening to our little one.

I’d been under the impression that we were going just for a potluck because that was what everyone told me. The second I stepped into the courtyard, I saw it was so much more. It was a baby shower, complete with a cake announcing our little ones’ arrival. Stellan and his human mate were there with kids. So was Jon, who had put on his “fancy” shirt, one that I had a feeling he didn’t wear often because it was misbuttoned. Clover had brought their famous banana bread, and Rudy and Mrs. Monro were already there when we arrived. Emerald came a few minutes later. The only one not here was Mr. Girling because he had to work. He did leave taco salad though, so he was forgiven.

Indigo raced over to see the eggs.

“I know, I know.” She stopped right in front of me. “I need to be careful because there are babies in there.”

“I wasn’t worried. You’re very responsible like that,” I assured her.

My mate joined me after setting the potato salad on the table with the rest of the food. Everyone came up one at a time to admire the eggs, congratulate us on our new little ones, and ask us the typical questions.

Were we ready? Absolutely not. But being ready wouldn’t change when they arrived.

Did we have names? Not yet.

Did we need anything? We promised to let them know if we did.

Were we sleeping through the night? No. Because I was paranoid and had to check them every few minutes.

“That’s normal,” Stellan said. “It gets worse when they’re born.”

Great. I was never sleeping again.

We started by eating. The food was great, and everyone brought something cold, which was perfect. Carrying the baby, I wouldn’t feel awful if a piece of potato salad or a deviled egg fell on me. But soup or a pasta bake? Yeah, that would be awful.

“You guys using a heat lamp on them or something?” Jon asked with all seriousness.

“What? They’re not pets,” Radley answered for us.

“Oh.” John was visually embarrassed.