Sometimes trying was excruciatingly painful.
I needed to prove to Clover that I was all in and wanted to make this work. I had racked my brain thinking about what mattered most to her, and the answer was pretty simple: her family. So I had flown them all out.
I’d considered chartering them a jet, but I had a feeling that would be a bit too extravagant for them. The last thing I wanted was them judging me before they even met me. Then again, who was I kidding? Of course they were judging me. I’d upset their daughter and they were smart men. They knew how precious their child was. I was just the inconsiderate fuck-face who had made her cry.
Clover had lit up when her dads arrived, and for a short time, I was inexplicably proud of myself.Ihad made her that happy. Only, as the visit continued, I felt more and more off-center. Clover and I were from opposite worlds. Not just financially—I already understood we came from vastly different backgrounds—butemotionally. Clover had been raised with the kind of love and involvement I had never experienced with my parents.
Her fathers valued their time and energy in ways my fathers didn’t, so how was I supposed to value it the same? Why couldn’twe pay for someone to handle the jobs we struggled with? The stupid crib had been impossibly difficult to build, and her father insisting I continue had only led to us both storming off. The moment I had, I’d admonished myself for acting like a petulant teenager.
Sitting with Clover and finishing that crib had brought me more joy than expected. Pride in having done the job myself burned bright in my chest, and I hardly ever felt that. Not when I’d gotten my degree or started my company. Maybe Clover was onto something. It was hard to experience existential dread when the results of my labors were literally manifesting in my hands, and now my child was going to be sleeping in a crib that I had built for them—with Clover’s considerable assistance.
I gave myself a few days of diving into work while the others took turns touring the dads around the city. I had to jump back into the fray soon, though.
My contemplation scotch was calling my name, and I made my way toward the kitchen, pulled out the bottle, and poured myself a liberal glass.
“Hey, kid, you look exhausted,” John said, rounding the corner in his pajamas and a robe. I knew it was late—the pitch-black darkness outside the windows confirmed that—but I hadn’t looked at the time.
“I don’t think I’ve been called a kid in a long time,” I admitted, taking a sip of my scotch. “What’re you doing up so late?”
He shrugged. “You get up a lot when you get old. Usually a glass of water and a few laps around the house get me back to sleep.”
“You’re hardly old.” I held up my glass. “Do you want one?”
John chuckled, taking a seat at the breakfast bar. “Well, I wouldn’t say no to that, considering that bottle probably costsmore than my yearly income. Haven’t had a good scotch in a while.”
My ears burned as I poured him a glass and handed it over. He wasn’t wrong; I had expensive taste in alcohol. Who was I kidding? I had expensive taste in everything.
John took a sip and hummed appreciatively. “Damn, that is some smooth alcohol. Almost no burn.”
“I hope you’re happy with what you’ve seen here. It’s a lot to trust us with your daughter,” I said, hating how much I wanted his approval. I was never entirely certain if my own fathers approved of my life—they never said otherwise, but I’d always struggled to read them—and I desperately wanted Clover’s fathers to believe we were good men, even with how deeply I’d fucked up. Did they even know the full extent of it?
John cocked his head. “It’s been a mixed bag, really.”
I snorted lightly, looking into my glass. “I’ve got a lot to make up for.” Apparently, I was going to poke that bear. If they didn’t already, would they appreciate the honesty, or would it irreparably damage their opinion of me?
“Do you?”
“Did she…tell you about the contract?” I swallowed hard, waiting for his answer.
John observed me carefully, his face impassive and unreadable. “Should she have?”
Fuck. They didn’t know. Why hadn’t Clover told them? “I…God, I fucked up with it. I’m still learning who she is and how much I can trust her, and I erred too hard on the side of not trusting her at all.”
“Why?” John asked, his voice flat, though it was impossible to mistake the way his shoulders tensed. “What did you see that made you not trust her?”
“My own stupid imaginings, mostly. I thought I recognized a dangerous pattern, but I never accounted for fate, or a scentmatch, or her bonding into the pack. I tried to make her an outsider, legally speaking. I was willing to pay for what she needed with the baby and raising it, but originally, I thought that was all she wanted and that I needed to protect my pack from her overreaching after she’d gained a foothold with us, but that’s—” I growled, pinching the bridge of my nose, as if that would relieve the pressure of my shame. “That’s not what Clover was after at all, and I understand that now, but it doesn’t erase what I did before I knew.”
“You’re not used to trusting folks, are you?” John asked carefully.
“Not really. Everyone always has an ulterior motive.”
The tiniest hint of a smile tweaked the corners of John’s mouth. “Not Clover. What you see is what you get with her, she’s always been like that. Sometimes it’s to her detriment. She’s upfront, to the point, and if she doesn’t like you, she makes no secret of that. Not everyone appreciates that sort of honest personality.”
“She does make it perfectly clear when she doesn’t like you. I’ve stepped in it more than once with her, unfortunately, but I swear I’m trying. I’ve never met anyone like her, and the more time I spend with her, the more I realize how little I actually know.”
John nodded thoughtfully. “Working off your idea of her instead of what’s in front of your face?”
“Something like that.” I sighed, taking another large sip. “But I think I’m getting there. Maybe slowly, but surely. I’ve apparently been making a lot of false assumptions, including about my own family. My mother set me straight, but I genuinely had no idea she was involved in the family business or what the role of a high-society omega even could be. It’s an adjustment.”
