They fought a valiant battle with Emory’s schedule but were only able to free up a handful of days before the gala, which was, of course, scheduled for Valentine's Day weekend. Emory locked himself in the bathroom and, for the first time since his father died, he and his lion cried. He wanted to pass them off as tears of frustration, but the mournful way his lion yowled made it pretty obvious it was more than that.
He and Cameron had been making so much progress, and now they were reduced to texting, which might as well havebeen letters for how slowly Emory was able to respond. His lion was on edge in a way Emory had never experienced before. He snarled at colleagues he’d known for years and even growled at his mom once or twice. Thankfully, he’d earned a lot of good grace as CEO, but he could tell people were starting to worry.
Cameron was an excellent sport, accepting late-night phone calls in lieu of actual dates. Right at the end of January, Emory was able to escape for a quick coffee date. Cameron sat pressed up against him on the couch in the coffee shop, holding his hand while telling him about his work and listening to Emory complain about his. At this point, Cameron was almost more understanding of Emory’s job than he was.
“You have nothing to apologize for. I really enjoyed spending New Year’s Eve with you, and I feel like it changed things between us. I feel…better. About us, and about this thing we’re building, no matter how slowly. We’re still getting to know each other over text, and the phone calls we’ve had have been the highlight of a rather dreary month. Besides, with how bad the weather’s been, I don’t think we would’ve gotten up to anything fun anyway,” Cameron said, and Emory desperately tried to believe him.
“Seriously, last winter I barely left the house for three months,” Cameron continued, running his fingers absently from Emory’s hand up his bare forearm.
Emory had rolled up his sleeves, basking in the warmth of the crackling fire they were sitting in front of. He wasn’t sure if Cameron was aware he was petting Emory like a house cat. Part of Emory had worried that the rapport they’d built over New Year’s might have faded, but if anything, Cameron seemed even more receptive to touch and affection.
“I wish I could use bad weather as an excuse to stay locked in my house for three months,” Emory said, gently squeezing Cameron’s side. “With you.”
Cameron’s blush and embarrassed smile were worth more than any profit margin or successful gala. The more they talked, the more Emory found himself falling for the smaller man.
“What would we do?” Cameron asked as he began to play idly with Emory’s fingers. “Are there any movies you’ve been wanting to watch, or TV shows you’re behind on?”
Gods…they hadn’t so much as watched a bad TV show together yet. Logically, Emory knew there weren’t performance goals to meet in a relationship, but he felt like he was falling behind—on everything. Behind on emails, meetings, his friendships, and also in his relationship.
His lion completely ignored his angst. He spurred Emory to dive into a detailed list of all the movies he’d missed the past few years, and which ones he thought they could watch together. The whole time, his lion basked in Cameron’s energy. It was now much easier to sense his omega energy. It was warm and soft, lapping at the edge of Emory’s mind and teasing his lion.
If only their energies and inner beasts could also communicate over text.
As the first week of February slowly rolled around, Emory’s lion had him nearly climbing the walls. All he could think about was work, Cameron, his cousin, work, and Cameron again.
His colleagues had adapted to his behavior, sending emails when they would have usually dropped by themselves, or leaving notes on his door even when he was sitting at his desk. Meanwhile, Christopher and Ronan waged tiny interventions whenever they could.
After a particularly rough meeting, Christopher barged into his office and insisted they FaceTime with Cameron on their lunch break. He called it a lunch date to make it feel less like the desperate lifeline Emory knew it was. That was how Emory learned that Cameron had started wearing soft t-shirt dressesaround the house. At first, he tried to hide the screen from Christopher, but Cameron rushed to alleviate Emory’s worry.
“I’m actually really glad you both called,” Cameron said, positioning his phone on a stable surface so Emory and Christopher had a clear view of him sitting on his couch, his legs tucked underneath him as he ate a bowl of ramen in a bright pink t-shirt dress. “I’m trying to be more open about my identity, and this seems like a pretty easy way to break the ice.”
Cameron explained more about what being a demiboy meant to him. Christopher, ever the loyal friend, took notes the entire time. He underlined words and phrases Cameron preferred and circled items of clothing Cameron was interested in exploring, in case Emory wanted to gift him anything.
“Uhm…it affects my sex life a little as well, but…perhaps that’s not something we should talk about at 12:25 on a Monday in front of your best friend,” Cameron said with an awkward laugh that made Emory’s heart flutter.
He would have kicked Christopher out right then and there—hell, he would have grabbed his phone and run out of the office—except that their 12:30 all-hands meeting was about to start, and Christopher probably wouldn’t let him skip it.
By the end of the week, when Emory had spent more time in his office than in his own apartment, Ronan physically dragged him out of the office at a quarter till midnight. They met up with Cameron for sleepy hot chocolate at the corner bodega that was open 24/7.
They sat on a small park bench, Cameron sitting easily on his lap, with Ronan squished against his side. The two of them bantered like old friends, and Emory realized that at some point, Ronan and Christopher must have gotten Cameron’s number. There were too many shared jokes and inside references between the two for it to be only their second time speaking with each other.
When he asked about this, they both looked at him like he was sleep-deprived. Which…he was…but still.
“He’s in the group chat, Em. We’ve been talking in there, as well as on our own,” Ronan said, concern evident in his voice.
Emory pulled out his phone and saw that he’d ignored the group chat so many times, his phone had automatically silenced it. He quickly turned the notifications back on. He couldn’t promise he’d be more active in it, but over the weekend, as he met with some of the local vendors for the gala, he checked it every few hours, watching his friends and fated mate get to know each other.
This kept him afloat, barely, for the beginning of the next week, but it all came to a head two days before the gala. He snapped for the fourth time that day, at some poor assistant who had drawn the short straw of informing him that they’d received yet another inquiry about whether his cousin would be in attendance. Christopher marched into his office, grabbed him by the sleeve of his rumpled button-down, and dragged him to the elevator.
“I called Cameron and made a reservation at the Italian place down the street. You’re going to have a nice dinner with your fated mate, even if it kills me. I have confiscated your phone, and so help me gods, given how much it keeps going off, it probablywillkill me, but I no longer care. You’re going to lose clients, or worse, if you walk into the gala like this.”
Emory’s lion snarled and snapped, which he had never done with Christopher before, and Emory took that as a very clear sign that he needed to take a break. Christopher marched him outside and, as if he didn’t trust Emory to take the hint, he pointed an aggressive finger down the road until Emory obediently started walking in that direction.
The fresh airwasnice, despite the low temperature. He appreciated the thought, but he had no intention of meetingCameron for dinner. Even though the idea of seeing his fated mate made him want to weep, he didn’t want to subject Cameron to whatever was going on with him. His lion was pacing in anxious circles, and even he wasn’t convinced they should see their mate right now. This was a little infuriating, considering all his lion did was roar and whine about them not spending time with Cameron. Now that they were faced with the opportunity, though, it was clear they were both too worn out.
He planned on walking right past the restaurant, but as he approached, his lion caught his mate’s salty-sweet scent. He reared up on his hind legs and gave an earth-shaking roar, forcing Emory to hurry into the restaurant, lest he do something dramatic like shift in the middle of the sidewalk.
He entered the lobby and found Cameron standing at the host stand, absently scuffing his purple Converse on the tile floor. When he glanced up and saw Emory, his smile nearly brought Emory to his knees.
