None of us speaks, afraid to interrupt her Omega instincts that are taking over. She moves around the nest, staging everything around her nest. When everything has found a home, she pushes a massive box into the middle of the nest.
This one is seven years old. The first birthday I knew her for. And it’s not the only box from that year. She’s got one from each of us. The one she found is mine, and the guys grab theirs for her.
Derrick’s box focuses on decor. It’s filled with small paintings, a lamp, more string lights, and gauzycurtains that are meant to hang from the ceiling like a canopy.
When she tears into Grant’s, she finds everything she needs to outfit her bathroom. No spa products, since those expire, but it’s got fluffy towels and a warmer, washcloths, and apothecary jars to hold her things. At the bottom of the box is a rainfall shower head.
She’s thrilled, sorting out Derrick’s gifts and dragging Grant’s to the bathroom. She bustles around in there, placing everything where it’s supposed to go.
She peeks her head through the doorway and waves the showerhead around. “Someone needs to install this tomorrow!”
“On it, baby.” The smile on Grant’s face is gigantic, his eyes soft with affection. When she darts back into the bathroom, he turns to Derrick and me and whispers, “She’s so happy.”
“Omegas do better in a nest that their pack helps build. I can feel how giddy she is now that she’s let her instincts take over.” Derrick pulls Grant into his arms and gives him a sweet kiss. “I didn’t get to tell you how much I missed you.”
“I missed you, too, Alpha.” Grant melts into Derrick as the Alpha palms the back of his head.
Ariana watches them from the doorway of the bathroom, her face soft. When they notice her and smile sheepishly, she crosses the nest and puts a hand on each of them.
“I love that you love each other. I love seeing you together here, in my nest.” She kisses them each on the cheek before turning her attention to my box.
When we first started buying her presents, we decided on a color theme for her nest. We didn’t want everything to feel disjointed. She doesn’t have to use what we bought,but I hope she does. We put a lot of thought into choosing things we thought she’d love.
I focused on the linens that year. One by one, she empties the box, lining the items up in front of her.
A navy blue throw.
Two sets of sheets for a nest-sized mattress, one in navy blue and one in cream.
A collection of pillows I had to vacuum-seal to fit the box, in a variety of sizes and fabrics, in navy, charcoal, and lavender.
At the bottom is a small stuffed cat. It’s solid black with bright yellow eyes. I don’t know why I bought it, but the moment I laid eyes on it, I knew that she needed it.
My heart is in my throat as she looks everything over.
What if she doesn’t like it? What if it’s all wrong, and the blanket isn’t comfortable, or she hates the color scheme?
She doesn’t give me a chance to spiral too much, launching her body into my arms. We tumble to the nest, and she kisses me all over my face and neck.
“I love it, I love it, I love it!” She reaches up for Grant’s hand, hauling him and Derrick down with us. “You all did so good. It’s everything I could’ve ever wanted.”
Pure Alpha satisfaction courses through me. She approves of our gifts. She wants to use them in her nest.
I provided for my Omega and made her happy.
The stuffed cat stays tucked in her lap as she continues going through the boxes, revealing more blankets and pillows, cozy loungewear, and even an entire box of high-fashion pieces from the designer Grant works with.
It’s not just nesting material in the boxes. There are gaming controllers, books, trinkets, and silly things we saw over the years that made us think of her.
By the time she’s gone through every box, she’s practicallyvibrating with excitement. It’s nearly eleven when she pushes us out of the nest, claiming she needs to get it set up before we go to bed.
Twenty minutes later, she throws open the door and beckons us in.
The nest has been transformed, the mattress now covered in cream sheets, piles of blankets and pillows around the edges, and a lamp on a small end table that Grant gifted her one year.
She even managed to hang the string lights and curtains on the low ceiling.
“Do you like it?” The vulnerability in her voice is a fist around my heart. How could she think we wouldn’t?
