"I'm thorough," she corrects. "There's a difference."
"Is there?" I ask.
Her expression shifts slightly, becoming more guarded. "There is when you're being paid to make someone's dream day perfect."
The reminder that she's here for work, not for us, hits harder than it should. "Right. Of course."
"How is your sister doing?" she asks, and the question stops my heart.
The words hit me like ice water. Of course she'd ask. The last time we saw each other, I let her believe Rebecca was my girlfriend rather than admit I was terrified of us being together.
"She's good," I manage, my voice rougher than I intend. "Four kids now. Two cats and a dog. She's part of a pack up in Silvercrest."
"Four kids," Savannah repeats, and there's something careful in her tone. "That's wonderful."
"Yeah, she got her wish. The oldest just turned seven, and the youngest is barely walking. Her mate's good with them." I run a hand through my hair. "It's nice there. Silvercrest. Good territory, strong pack bonds."
"I'm glad she found what she was looking for," Savannah says.
"Savannah, I need you to know that I…” I start, then stop. How do you apologize for being a coward?
"That you what?" she asks when I don't continue.
"That I realize now I have commitment issues," I say finally, the words feeling clumsy and inadequate. "Back then, I was too much of a coward to admit what I was feeling."
"What do you mean?” Her voice is carefully neutral.
"Having a human mate, it felt like too much.” I take a deep breath, forcing myself to meet her eyes. "I was terrified thatloving you meant I was betraying everything I was supposed to be."
"And now?" she asks quietly.
"Now I know I was an idiot. Now I know that I should have given us a try.”
She's quiet for a long moment, and I can see her processing, weighing my words against eight years of hurt.
"It's in the past, Xavier," she says finally, but her voice is tight. Professional. The same tone she probably uses with difficult clients. "Tomorrow I'd like to concentrate on planning this wedding. We don't have much time, and Emma deserves to have everything perfect."
The dismissal stings, but I deserve it. I nod, backing toward the door. "Right. Of course. You're here for Dax and Emma."
"I'm here to do my job," she clarifies, and the words cut deeper than they should.
"Fair enough." I hover in the doorway, every instinct screaming at me not to leave. "I should let you get settled."
"That would be good," she says, turning toward her suitcase with brisk efficiency.
I want to bend down and get on my knees and grovel to her, so that she knows that I'm not the same man who was too afraid to commit to an omega.
But she's already shutting down, already putting walls back up, and I can see in the set of her shoulders that pushing now would be a mistake.
"Dinner's usually around seven,” I say instead, hating how formal I sound. "But we're flexible if you have other plans."
"I don't have other plans. Dinner sounds good." She doesn't turn around.
"Good. I'll see you downstairs then later. I’m heading out now. You’ll have the place to yourself to do what you like.”
Four hours and twenty minutes to be precise.
I leave her there, closing the door softly behind me, and lean against the hallway wall. My hands are shaking. It's torture. Sweet, exquisite torture that makes me want to tear apart everything that kept us apart the first time.
