"I'm excessive. It's my thing." I look around at them. "But I'm serious. Anything she needs, she’ll get it."
"We're all her guy," Sergio says quietly. "All four of us or none of us. If she chooses one, she chooses all. Agreed?"
I look at Nacho. At Pedro. Back at Sergio.
"Agreed."
Nacho starts ladling stew into bowls. "Dinner's ready. We can keep planning, but I'm not doing it on an empty stomach."
We gather at the table. Same seats we always take. Sergio at the head. Nacho to his left. Pedro to his right. Me across from Sergio where I can see everyone.
Four places. Four alphas.
One missing omega-shaped space that we've been trying to fill for years.
The food is good. It always is when Nacho cooks. He learned from his grandmother, that tiny fierce woman who taught him that feeding people is how you show love when words won't come.
Tonight he made enough to feed an army. Tells me everything about his headspace.
"There's something I need to tell you," I say between bites. "Something about the kiss."
Three pairs of eyes focus on me.
"When I kissed her that night... right before she kissed me back, she said something." I set down my spoon, meet their eyes. "She said 'finally.'"
“What?” Sergio asks.
"Yeah. Like she'd been waiting for it. For me to kiss her."
"That doesn't necessarily mean—" Pedro starts.
"Yes it does." I cut him off. "Think about it. The way she used to look at all of us. The way she'd find excuses to touch us. Ask me about my projects. Listen to Sergio's hockey stories. Fall asleep on Nacho's shoulder during movies. Let Pedro bandage her cuts even when they were tiny." I look around the table. "She wanted us. All of us. And it scared her."
Silence.
"So what are you saying?" Sergio asks slowly. "I'm saying we court her." I meet each of their eyes.
"Properly. The way we should have years ago. Show her what she could have..."
"That's a risk," Pedro says.
"So is letting her walk away again." My voice breaks. I don't try to hide it. "I can't do it twice. I can't watch her leave again. I'll break."
"We all will," Nacho says quietly.
Sergio looks at each of us. "Then we do this together. We show her who we are. What we can offer. And we pray she wants it as much as we do."
He raises his glass. "To Jessica."
We clink. We drink.
Outside, the sun is setting, painting the sky orange and pink. In two weeks, maybe less, Jessica will go into heat. Her first real heat. And we'll be here, waiting, ready to catch her if she falls.
"I'm going to build her something," I announce. "Something that shows her I'm not scary. Just... devoted."
"What are you going to build?" Pedro asks.
I think about her hands. About the way she used to touch wood grain with reverence. About the way she looked at the furniture I made like it was art.
