Page 22 of A Roommate for Ronny

“Would you like another cup of tea?” Jones asked.

“I’m good. I’ve only finished this much.” I tapped the side of the teacup where the liquid line was.

He and I had spent the past half hour sitting out back drinking a new-to-us tea under the umbrella as my mate let his wolf out. I always enjoyed watching Ronny race around and show off his hunting skills. Leroy was like Bosco, in that he wasn’t fazed by my mate’s beast and was sitting under the table, enjoying the coolness of the shade.

“What do you have planned after this?” Jones asked.

“I think we’re going to live the exciting life and go to the grocery store. Need anything while we’re there? Or do you want to come?”

“I went yesterday, but thanks. I was just being nosy because your mate mentioned three different times you were going out this afternoon. It sounded like a fancy date.”

I hadn’t noticed, but I’d been pretty tired all day.

“Although thinking back to when my wife was pregnant with our son, grocery shopping would have been a date. That was all we could afford back then.”

Jones’ son had long since grown up, gotten married, moved far away, and had his own family. They still connected on the phone or video chats, but I hadn’t met them yet. It was distance physically, not emotionally between them.

“You know what? You’re right.” Now that he mentioned it, I remembered a couple of the instances Jones had been referring to. “He has been kinda weird. Maybe he’s got a surprise for me.”

My mate’s wolf came over and licked my arm before bounding back to our place.

“I think that’s a hint it’s time to go.” I pushed myself up and grabbed my teacup.

“Leave it. I’ll take care of it. Go be with your mate.”

My mate wasn’t being disrespectful by not shifting before telling me it was time to leave. He was trying to prevent poor Jones from getting an eyeful, something Jones appreciated after the first time. I appreciated seeing my mate’s body every chance I could get but understood why Jones didn’t feel the same.

I waddled across his yard to ours, wondering how I was going to make it through the last six weeks of pregnancy if I was already this huge. My mate was already dressed by the time I reached him.

“Jones thinks you’re up to something more than groceries.”

He tapped my nose. “That’s because Jones is smart. Come on, little duck. Let’s go on an adventure.”

“What do you mean by ‘little duck’?”

He tugged on the hem of my yellow sweater, and I smacked his hand away.

“Are you saying I’m waddling around like a big old yellow duck?”

“If it walks like a duck...” He jumped away before I could smack him again.

“Just for that, you’re buying me ice cream.”

“Done.”

He drove to a plaza I’d never been to before. And honestly, I probably wouldn’t be able to find it again after nodding off in the car most of the way. The sleepiness of my first trimester was starting to hit again, and I wasn’t a fan.

“You know how I was looking for costumes for the first production?” He’d taken over as director of a tiny community theater group, one he believed had potential to grow, while at the same time not being too overtaxing as we entered our new role as fathers.

“Yeah. You said you found some things at the thrift store.”

“I did, but someone suggested a store in this plaza. Only when I got here, it was already gone.”

“Are you saying you took me to a closed store?”

“No.” He kissed my cheek. “But when I was here, I saw a paternity store. And I thought maybe we could get you out of your duck era.”

He walked around the car and helped me out, and we walked hand in hand into the paternity store, where my mate was immediately recognized by the sales associate.