“Timothy Oakwood…” Laz—Sabs’s goofball brother, who also happens to be another of Faye’s alphas—scratches his chin. “Why does that sound familiar?”
“He was with us at camp, remember?” Cole reminds him. I assume Cole is referring to one of the various summer-type camps many young alphas attend to find like-minded individuals to form a pack. “He was the asshole with a clipboard who asked everyone what their net worth was then tried to pay the poorest alphas to lick his shoes. Remember?”
“That’s Timothy Oakwood?” Laz’s grimace turns into a chuckle. “If I recall correctly, he looked pretty good with your sneaker imprint on his face.”
“I was…” Cole clears his throat then quickly looks over at Faye. “Less in control of my alpha tendencies then. I don’t normally?—”
“It’s okay, Cole.” Faye doesn’t condone any sort of violence, but she pats his knee in understanding. “I know you’re not like that.”
“Sounds like he got what he deserved,” Damon grumbles, which I’m inclined to agree with.
“Trust me, he did.” Laz wrinkles his nose in obvious disgust. “Didn’t he smell like blue cheese too?”
“Okay, enough! Kady’s not marrying anyone, especially someone who smells like fungus.” Sabs declares, her comforting cherry scent surrounding me. Despite her bold nature, Sabs is a softie at heart and is fiercely protective of those she loves. “Your dad can’t force you to marry. This is the twenty-first century!”
“Try telling him that,” I murmur, taking my seat again.
If Dad had his way, I’d already be bonded to a pack and popping out baby heirs. As an only child, the Sinclair lineage rests on my shoulders. Sure, having kids might be nice one day, but I want to have a career first. He doesn’t get how I can be satisfied with being a single omega who doesn’t rely on anyone else for her happiness.
“Can you give us a few minutes, guys?” Faye addresses her alphas. “I think we need a Stella moment.”
Damon doesn’t look happy to be leaving her again, wearing a reluctant expression as he kisses her on the head and rises along with the others, leaving the four of us alone.
“So what are you going to do, Kady?” Delilah asks.
While everyone’s been talking, my mind has been in overdrive, calculating my next move. The only thing I’m sure of is that there is no way in hell that I’m marrying an alpha who smells like an option on a charcuterie board.
While most omegas fantasize about finding their scent matches and bonding, I dream about freedom—making my own rules and creating my own destiny. I don’t ever want to depend on anyone else. Why couldn’t I have been born a beta? Life would have been much simpler.
“I’m not sure yet.” I tuck the invitation back into my purse. I should have seen this coming and been better prepared. “But I’m not marrying anyone.”
“Of course, you’re not,” Sabs replies. “Besides, if he smells like cheese, imagine what his knot must smell like.”
I snort. Only Sabs could make me laugh in a moment like this.
“What about your dad?” Faye asks.
Before I can answer, my phone starts ringing. I don’t even need to check the caller ID to know it’s him. It’s like he has a weird sixth sense and knows we’re talking about him.
Delilah eyeballs my phone warily in the same way she watches the microwave whenever Sabs tries to cook something.
As much as I’d love to send Dad’s calls to voicemail, that’ll only make him send Warren after me to check if I’m okay. I need to rip off the Band-Aid and get the conversation out of the way.
“Dad.” I answer the phone with the usual air of formality that clouds all of our interactions.
I’ve seen how other people interact with their families, and none of those relationships come close to resembling what I have with my father. Sabs’s and Laz’s conversations with the Mavericks are filled with banter, love, and chaotic laughter. I’ve watched Delilah lovingly unpack wellbeing baskets from her parents every month. Faye and her gram are so close that the two of them can almost communicate purely through looks alone. Yet my father doesn’t even know the meaning of warmth. Our conversations are to the point, ticking topics off a list like we’re working through an itinerary. He’s a businessman who treats me like another one of his assets to manage, and right now, I’m a problem he wants solved.
“Kady.” Dad’s voice is cold and stiff. “I trust that Warren delivered the letter?”
“I received it this morning.” Not wanting to worry my listening friends even more, I speak with an impassive tone, sounding almost robotic.
“You left me no choice,” Dad states, like matrimony is an inevitability. God forbid an omega makes her own choices, orworse, chooses to live alone. “Timothy is a strong choice. He’s even happy for you to remain at SVU until graduation.”
“How very generous.”
The only positive to our communication style is how it’s taught me to maintain a poker face under stress, which will definitely help me in becoming a kickass lawyer one day. Keeping calm on the surface while my inner rage bubbles underneath is one of my special talents.
“It is.” He chooses to ignore my sarcasm. “Not many alphas would permit it.”
