Of course she knows. Everyone knows.
“It’s a second-chance romance,” I say flatly. “Omega returns home. Has to win back the alphas she left behind.”
“Sounds familiar.”
I close the laptop. “The heroine in my book isn’t an idiot who destroyed everything good in her life.”
“Ah.” Maeve nods sagely. “Fiction.”
Despite everything, I almost laugh. “Yeah. Fiction.”
She’s quiet for a moment, studying me. Outside, a crew is stringing more lights across Main Street. The banner for tonight’s fundraiser flutters in the wind.
“You’ve been sitting here for three hours,” Maeve says. “And you’ve looked at that door approximately thirty-two times.”
“I have not.”
“Thirty-three now.”
I slump back in my chair. “They won’t talk to me, Maeve. Any of them. I’ve tried everything. Theo almost reached for me and then drove away. Nate finished shoveling the driveway without looking at me once. And Lucas won’t return my calls.”
“Oh, honey.” Maeve’s voice gentles. “That’s a lot of hurt. On both sides.”
“I know.” I wrap my hands around my mug. “I can’t even blame them. That’s the problem.”
Movement outside catches my eye. A dark-haired woman is making her way down the sidewalk, one hand pressed to her lower back, the other resting on a very pregnant belly. She moves carefully on the icy pavement—the kind of waddle that says she’s close to her due date.
And she looks familiar. Hollywood familiar.
Before I can place her, an alpha appears at her side. Tall, broad-shouldered, wearing a firefighter’s jacket. He slides an arm around her waist, takes the shopping bag from her hand, and presses a kiss to her temple. Two other alphas materialize—one dark-haired with precise movements, the other bearded and broad—and together they help her toward a massive truck parked at the curb.
Four people moving as one unit. A pack.
“Is that...” I turn to Maeve. “Oh my god, is that Lila James with Dean?”
Maeve follows my gaze with a fond smile. “Lila Greaves now. They’re expecting their first any day now.”
“Lila James. The actress. Bonded to your nephew.”
“She moved here after some Hollywood mess.” Maeve shrugs. “Dean, Julian, and Callum fell all over themselves. And, well. She fell right back.”
I watch them help Lila into the truck like she’s made of glass. The tenderness in every gesture. The way they orbit around her, attentive and protective and completely besotted.
That’s what a pack looks like. That’s what I could have had.
That’s what I threw away.
“I didn’t know,” I say. “About any of this.”
“You’ve been gone a long time, honey.” No accusation in Maeve’s voice. Just fact. “Things change. People find each other.”
The truck pulls away. I keep staring until it disappears around the corner.
The bell over the door chimes. I look up automatically—thirty-four, apparently—but it’s not one of them. It’s a honey-blonde woman backing through the door with an armful of red roses and white lilies, one hand resting on the gentle swell of her belly as she maneuvers inside.
Sadie Quinn. We were in the same year at school, though we ran in different circles. She was quiet, artistic, always smelled like flowers even back then. I was loud, messy, always surrounded by three particular alphas who made it hard for anyone else to get close.
“Maeve!” Sadie calls, setting the arrangement on the counter. “Your Valentine’s order. I’ve got two more in the van—is Reid here yet? He was supposed to help me unload.” She stops, noticing me. “Oh! Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
