“Damn right,” Dixon jerked his head in a quick nod, then wiggled his body so we’d all stop touching him.
“Cat, what did The Institute say?” I focused back on the email. We’d scrolled through the photos but ignored the rest. Cat pulled her tablet back, closing the attachments and checking the message.
“The stylist said to avoid pastels because of Tessa’s coloring. They sent her measurements too.” She paused for a second, reading ahead. “There’s a recommended diet and The Institute will be sending over three months’ supply of Omega tonics to compensate for the product flaw. Apparently, she’s malnourished and a little anemic.”
“Product flaw,” I said stupidly. “They mean Tessa, right?”
“They mean Tessa,” Cat confirmed. “The paperwork has always referred to a potential scent match as a product. It’s just standard.”
“It fucking shouldn’t be,” Dixon grumbled.
“I agree. It’s gross.” My mocha, caramel lattes sloshed around in my belly, and I felt a little sick. Mac and Tray exchanged a knowing look, as if they’d already had this conversation.
“Again, it’s just a label the company uses. And once Tessa is here,” Catalina smiled at us all, “she’ll never be called that again.”
Each of us voiced agreement, though in different ways.Damn, right. Let someone fucking try calling her that. Never again.
“On that note,” Cat pulled up a new file on her tablet. “This is ridiculous.”
She flipped the screen our way again, presenting the budget spreadsheet that she loved, and weabsolutely hated. The top three rows were highlighted in glaring yellow. Paradise Pets, $1,586.39. California Couture, $13,056.12. Richard Makes it Right, $2500.
When she spoke again, her tone was that of a scolding mother. “Half the clothes need to go back. Should be easy. No pastels. Nothing too gothic. I mean with her pale skin and dark hair, she’ll look like a vampire. As for the cat stuff?—”
I jumped in. “Can’t return anything. It’s all opened already.”
“All of it?” She asked incredulously, frowning.
“Every bit. Even licked the unopened soft food. So, you know, germs.” I raised my hands apologetically. “Can’t in good conscience return things I’ve licked, CeeCee.”
“Hmmm.” She narrowed her eyes. “I don’t believe you, but I really don’t have the energy to argue today, Tray.”
I grinned. “If that’s the case, we really should revisit the topic of you singing the intro to a song on our next album.”
“I’m not that tired. I’llneverbe that tired.” But she couldn’t help smiling. Even when I drove her crazy, the woman loved me.
“Never say never.” I winked at her.
I meant those words. I really thought I’d never settle down. I couldn’t imagine marking and mating with someone and it being for... fucking life. Even though I’d always known biology would eventually force me into a corner, Alpha ferality taking hold, I’d wanted to delay the inevitable as long as possible.
Never settling was never going to happen.Never finding Tessa?I already couldn’t imagine it. Never say never.
30
MAC
LOS ANGELES…
When Catalina tuckedthe tablet beneath her arm and turned towards the insanely stuffed clothing racks, I moved next to her. I desperately needed a distraction. Waiting was torture.
The other guys had already retreated. Tray had moved back to the Paradise Pets employees, Dixon had jumped into the pool fully clothed, and Ryder was on his laptop again. He’d been torturing himself by reading the same stories about the Fortune Pack Tragedy over and over. Earlier, he’d been watching footage of our Seattle concert, hoping he’d get a glimpse of Tessa in the crowd. Last night was enough of that for me. So goddamn depressing. I needed to move. Needed to do something. Unlike when I’d attacked the kitchen, I hopefully wouldn’t ruin things while I tried to keep my hands busy this time.
“I know they said no pastels, but I don’t think we should keep Fall colors either.” I walked closer, lifting a hand to test the different textures. Some of the materials were scratchy. “Soft. We should make sure her clothes are soft. That first photo they sent...” my voice trailed off. The new pictures were better, but she’d still looked haunted. “I don’t want her to put on anything that doesn’t feel nice. She should be comfortable here.”
“I think that’s a good idea, Mac.” Catalina touched my forearm gently from behind, her maternal voice inherently calming. That was just Cat’s way…unless she was mad at us, which happened a little too often for her liking. “How have you been feeling lately? I know we’ve not openly talked about the clinic, but the payment intervals mean you’re due soon, right?” She’d always known about my brutal treatments. I couldn’t hide them from the person who saw the clinic charges and kept records for our accountant. After the third treatment bill, she’d asked me privately. I’d told her the bare minimum, and she’d respected my reticence.
I nodded, my jaw tight. "Supposed to be next week." Running my fingers down a silk blouse, I tried to keep my voice steady. "I'm fine. Same as always."
"Mac," Catalina's tone shifted, the kind of voice she used when Tray tried to survive off energy drinks for three days straight or when Ryder wanted to quit music because a song was being stubborn. "You don't have to pretend with me. I’ve told you that.”
