On the camera feed, the sedan's brake lights flare. The car reverses out of the space, rolls toward the lot exit, and turns onto the main road. We watch the screen until the car disappears from frame.
"You’ll send Margaux the footage?" I ask.
"Sent." Nicholas takes the phone from my hand and sets it back on the bar, screen down, exactly where Wilson left it. "He won't try the parking lot again. He'll find another angle."
"And we'll be ready for that one too."
I let my shoulders fall as I turn my attention back to the floor, Oliver now being a nuisance to Wilson but our Beta is smiling. He’s happier than I’ve ever seen him and while at some point,we’ll tell him about Sebastian still trying to get to him, I’ll leave it be for now.
I want to preserve the happiness on that man’s face for as long as I can.
Oliver bounds over toward us, his eyes narrowing slightly as he picks up on something before waving his hand in the air. Wilson rushes over, obviously trying to curb a conversation but Oliver just shakes his head.
“No, don’t listen to Wilson. This is important.”
Wilson snorts. “Oliver, renovations to the apartment aren’t important. We can figure that out later.”
Our Omega throws his head back dramatically and sighs. “We won, okay? We won. I don’t know why we can’t also fix up the apartment.” He drags out his phone and starts moving through pictures at warp speed. I always forget how much energy he has after we finally drag him out of the nest after a heat. “Do you think we could knock out the wall between the guest room and the bedroom?” He tilts his phone toward me, revealing a floor plan sketched crudely on his phone. “If we open it up, the nest could extend across the whole—”
I press a palm to the counter’s worn edge and study his rough lines. “That wall bears the building’s load,” I say.
He leans forward, eyes bright. “What if we install a beam?”
"Oliver."
"A very attractive beam. Nicholas knows contractors."
I pinch the bridge of my nose and just shake my head. “Baby, please. For likeoneminute…” I pause and study Oliver, wondering why this post-heat excitement is so much worse than usual. “Who the fuck let Oliver have coffee?”
Nicholas shoots me a wild grin. “Whoops? What? He was very convincing. It was only one cup.”
Wilson starts laughing as he wrangles Oliver into his head. “Nicholas, I assure that it wasn’t just one cup and with theamount of sugar I watched Oliver put in once, he’s going to be bouncing off the walls all night.”
Oliver pushes against me, once again going on about renovations until his thoughts shift. “Oh, the party!” He dashes off, leaving the three of us a little worse for wear.
Wilson’s mouth twitches as the bite shifts against his lower lip. “Celebrating isn’t really my—”
“Well, you said whatever Oliver wants and now he’s planning something with champagne and glitter. Brace yourself.”
35 - Wilson
Three Weeks Later
Table seven hosts the bachelorette party. They’ve ordered a fourth round of Oliver’s Glitter Bomb. Inside each glass, vodka and elderflower swirl in liquid stardust. Edible glitter coats the walls so thickly the mix seems stolen from a craft store after hours. The bride-to-be perches on her stool, sash declaring LAST FLING BEFORE THE RING. Her maid of honor leans forward, eyelashes glinting in the strobe, and asks if I’m single again.
Oliver calls from behind the bar, lips brushing the words without glancing up. “He’s taken. Very taken. Aggressively taken.” He shifts a bottle into the shaker, and his gaze flicks sideways.
“Nobody asked you,” I whisper, chin lifting in challenge.
Oliver flexes his shoulders in a lazy shrug. “Her eyes asked me. I answered on your behalf. You’re welcome.”
The maid of honor grins, mouth curving in a crooked promise. She waves at me. Glasses clink on my tray as I thread between the crowd, avoiding a spray of spilled beer near the DJ booth. She breathes her thanks, voice husky as I just tilt my head and slip back into the blur.
Nicholas meets my gaze across and his lips curve into a slow smile that reaches his eyes. I look away before my face does something embarrassing. Oliver is already watching me from behind the bar with the expression of a man who has caught something delightful and is deciding how loudly to announce it.
"Don't," I tell him.
"I didn't say anything."
