He’d woken up to Peter’s morning wood poking him in the stomach, the boy’s face nuzzled under his chin, and Carver really couldn’t think of a better way to start the day.
“I did, thank you, Thomas. You?”
“It was okay. Would you like me to get you breakfast, or have you already eaten?”
“Just a sandwich, please. And coffee.”
Carver had stayed in bed as long as possible, and as such, he’d had to skip both his morning shower and breakfast.
“I’ll go get that right away,” Thomas said, looking at his phone. “Brennan’s people are asking if we can move their meeting back an hour. What should I say?”
“That’s fine,” Carver said, annoyed that he could have had an extra hour in bed. Who knew what kind of fun he could have had with Peter and Tex in that time?
“And your mother called. She’s in town and she wants to have lunch. Should I make a reservation at your usual place?”
“My mother?” Carver couldn’t hide the distress in his voice. This had to be a coincidence. There was no way she knew about Peter already.
“Yes, she said she needs to talk to you about your latest acquisition? She said that you’d know what she meant.”
Fuck.
“Should I tell her you’re not available today?” Thomas, bless his stupid little heart, asked. Like saying no to Carver’s mother was a thing you could do.
It wasn’t.
“No. Make the reservation when it’s convenient for her, and then move around whatever you need to on my schedule to make it happen.”
“Okay,” Thomas said, looking like he had about a million questions but holding them all in. “I’ll be right back with your breakfast and coffee.”
Carver gave a tight nod and got to work.
The rest of the day passed in a blur, and all too soon Carver was sitting alone in his mother’s favorite restaurant, waiting for her to appear.
It was always best not to make Carver’s mother wait, and so a good rule of thumb was to arrive at least fifteen minutes early.
Checking his watch, Carver tried for the millionth time to think of something that would prevent his mother from blowing up on him over Peter.
One of the core pillars of her political career was ending the delinquent omega matching program, and having her son take part in it was a PR disaster.
If there was one thing Carver had had drilled into him since being a child, it was that appearances mattered. He’d already rebelled by marrying Tex, and he knew without a doubt that Peter would be the thing to push his mother over the edge.
Carver was so lost in thought that he almost missed his mother entering the restaurant. She smiled at the hostess, gaze scanning the room and landing on Carver. For just a second her eyes narrowed in a thunderous glare, but then she got control of her face and smiled her campaign smile.
Carver’s hands were clammy, his emotional state reduced to when he was seven and he’d accidentally pushed his sister off the roof and broken her arm. He remembered how scared he’d been waiting for his mother to come scold him, and he felt the exact same way now.
“Carver, thank you for taking the time to see me today. I know how busy you are,” his mother said when she approached. Carver rose from his chair and kissed her cheek.
“Of course,” he said, trying to match her smile and failing. “I was surprised to hear that you were in town.”
“I flew in when I heard the good news,” his mother said, taking a seat and waving the waiter over to the table. “It isn’t every day that one of my children takes a new mate.”
She knew. This was bad. This was very, very bad.
“I can explain,” Carver said. He was about to say more, but the waiter appeared to take his mother’s drink order. When he was gone, whatever Carver was going to say was gone out of his head.
“You were going to explain?” his mother prompted, her voice laced with steel.
“Tex thought it would be a good idea. No one was choosing us—”
