That gets to me, and I chuckle against his neck. “They did their best.”
“And we’ll do ours. I just—I’m not worried about us or how we’ll deal with it. Bear, we’re solid, okay? I know that. There is no one I trust more with this than you. Even though it’s big, it’s really big, we’re going to be ready.”
“Then what are you anxious about?” I say, feeling rather warm at his words.
“It’s stupi
d,” he mutters, sounding uncharacteristically shy.
I’m utterly charmed by him. “Nah. Not any stupider than what I say.”
He shrugs, jostling my head. “I’m just—I want to meet them, you know? I want them to be here so I can hold them and look at them. So I can tell them I’m their daddy and you’re their papa, and that we won’t let anything hurt them.”
I smile, because Otter Thompson is one of the best men I know. “I’m Papa, huh? You’re Daddy?”
He sighs, and as I turn my head, I can see his neck is a little red. “You’re already Papa Bear,” he says quietly. “And I… I like how Daddy sounds. And don’t you make that weird. I’m serious.”
“Hi, Serious. I’m Papa Bear.”
His smile is a wondrous thing. “You’re so dumb.”
“Right?”
“So that’s okay?” He shuffles his feet.
I want to climb him like a goddamn tree. In front of a strip mall, for fuck’s sake. “Papa works for me. And you can be Daddy.”
“Really?”
“Really,” I say, kissing the tip of his nose. “Hell, you can be my daddy anytime—”
“No, Bear. Stop. You stop it right now.”
“Oh, Daddy.”
“Shut up,” he hisses at me.
“Why? Don’t you want to be my daddy? That could be—”
“Whoa, babe, you hear that? They’re fucking kinky.”
“Eep,” I say, accidentally knocking my forehead against Otter’s chin. “Ow, motherfucker.”
“Why is your head so large?” Otter grumbles, rubbing his chin.
“Ha, that’s what she said,” the voice behind us says again. “Classic.”
I turn around, and there standing on the sidewalk is a very pregnant Megan Ridley, along with some guy who looks like he rolled out of bed and into a pile of hemp. Megan’s grinning, and the man beside her is squinting at us. He’s got a scraggly beard and wild hair sticking out every which way and—
“Are you wearing a tie-dyed headband?” I blurt out.
He rolls his eyes up, like he’s trying to look at it. “Ah, yeah, man. Gnarly, right? It’s to keep the sweat out of my eyes. Thanks for the compliment. Far out.”
I frown. “That wasn’t a com—”
“Megan,” Otter says, shoving past me like an asshole. “How are you? Everything good?” His hands are on her stomach, and she’s laughing quietly. “They’re okay, right?”
“They’re fine,” she says. “I think they’re sleeping now. They were kicking up a storm earlier.”