The Mates of Monsters

Chapter 54 - The End

"Do you have the agreement?"

"I got it," David says. I look from my reflection in the mirror over the dresser to see the folder clamped in his hand, hanging at his side. It seems like just the other day that I attended my first Union meeting here, but I don't mind the travel. Besides, the heavy snow outside reminds me of the winters at my old pack, minus the mountains, of course.

David scans my body as if something will suddenly be out of place. I turn to him with my hands holding the underside of my rounded belly. "I know," I tell him, "I'm getting big."

He approaches with gentle eyes and spreads his palm to feel my belly with a cautious touch. "Twenty-two weeks today—over halfway there."

"Do you think you can make it?"

He smiles a tainted smile. "We both know it's not me that I worry about."

"Shh," I hush and place my hand on his, intertwining our fingers. "She might hear you—don't stress her out."

"Trust me, she's doing perfectly fine in there."

"How do you know? Have you been talking to her while I'm sleeping?"

"Something like that," he says.

I roll my lips together and follow him out of the bedroom. "You know, sometimes I think you're a psychic."

He glances back. "A psychic? No."

I step into my kitten-heeled shoes that are set beside the main door, and David holds my hand. Almost all of my clothes are elastic-banded lately—a big difference from my usual business attire. But for the welcoming meeting, I've fought my way into a fitted maternity dress. My dinner attire is similar; normal-looking clothes with a rounded extension of fabric that makes me feel as if I'm slipping on a giant sock. My baby belly just fits into place, and I feel silly wearing specialty clothes.

I love this little girl, but I want my regular clothes back.

We leave the apartment right on time. A scramble of voices can be heard from the end of the grand stone hallway, and my puffy feet quicken their achy pace.

I walk down the stone staircase along the thick railing, letting my hand glide without much worry. There isn't a need to when David has my other hand in his own paired with an extra support beneath my elbow. He moves as if he's ready to lunge and catch me if I stumble, but I've adapted to his newfound level of protection. Sometimes it pulls my trigger, but most of the time I think it's sweet.

"Careful," he says.

"I'm being careful."

"You're stepping right on the edge of the steps; there's space."

I hold my breath. "David, trust me, I got it under control. I have many years of staircase experience."

"You constantly trip on the steps at home."

I look back wearing my playful embarrassment. "Don't say that. I don't want someone to overhear—they all think so highly of me—I can't look weak."

"No one will think that you're weak."

"They will if you keep walking me up and down staircases like a grandmother."

Before I can break away at the bottom of the stairs, David holds me and lowers to my ear. "Remember our deal. You could come as long as we're careful. No overexerting yourself, and no wandering alone."

"I really don't think anyone here would hurt a pregnant woman."

"Brigette, please—"

"Okay, okay, I know," I assure him, "I'm taking it seriously, I promise."