"Good evening, Mother. I'm reading. Is everything all right?"
"Always with the reading!" She sounded amused, but there was that little edge of condescension in her tone, like I had something better to do than waste my time on books. "Nonfiction, I hope?"
"No," I replied, trying to keep the tightness out of my voice. Reading was bad enough, but reading fiction was worse than nonfiction. In her eyes, at least reading nonfiction taught you something. Fiction was just a made-up story. A useless fairy tale.
"Ah, I see." She didn't sound too disappointed, which meant she probably had something more important to tell me. Asking me what I was doing was just chitchat to get the conversation rolling. "Well, I have news for you."
I was right. She sounded eager. "What is it?"
"Your father's new business contact has an omega son around your age and—"
My stomach dropped. I already knew where this was heading. I blew out a silent, exasperated exhale through my nose and clenched my eyes shut.
"—I was thinking, wouldn't it be wonderful for you two to meet? He's single, and so are you."
How many times had I politely turned down her offers in the past? Too many to count. Maybe I needed to be more firm.
"I'm actually a bit busy right now," I said.
She chuckled. "Oh, I don't mean right now. We can set up a date. How is next week?"
Well, that didn't work. I tried again. "Mother, I'm not really interested in dating."
"Nonsense. You're at the perfect age to find a mate. Let me find out when he's free so I can make reservations for you at a nice local restaurant."
I grimaced. Part of me felt ungrateful for pushing back against my mother when she was only trying to help, but it was also frustrating when she didn't listen to me. Did she think I was just being shy when I tried to turn down her offers to find me a partner?
It wasn't that. There was another reason.
One I couldn't tell her.
"Really, Mother, don't bother yourself," I said, trying to be forceful yet gentle. "I—I have a lot of work next week. I don't know if I can squeeze in time for a date."
"You can, you can," she said lightly. I heard a pencil scratching in the background. She must have literally been pencilling in the date in her organizer. This pit of despair was growing deeper by the second and I was failing at digging myself out of it.
"Next week is busy?" she asked.
"Yes."
"Tomorrow, then." She said it with an air of finality.
I opened my mouth to try and make up an excuse, but I panicked and nothing came out.
"Good. Tomorrow it is."
Then I heard the pages of the organizerthumpclosed. That dreadful sound sealed the deal. My heart sank.
"You spend too much time alone, reading or working," Mother went on. "I'm getting concerned, you know? You need someone to share your home. It will be good for you."
I slumped in my seat. The truth was, I wasn't antisocial or opposed to the concept of a mate. I would have loved to have a partner. Someone to share meals with, to read together by the fireplace, to curl up in bed together...
But not just anyone. Not a nameless, faceless omega. There was only one person I wanted.
And I couldn't have him.
Not without breaking the promise I made to my parents ten years ago.
I bit my lip.
