As the tub fills, I open a drawer in the vanity, pushing past cotton pads and half-used bottles until I find my thermometer. I sit on the edge of the counter and wait for it to beep.
100.7.
I close my eyes briefly. Shit. That’s low for an omega fever, but it’s climbing,
I open the medicine cabinet and take down the bottle of suppressants, tipping it to count what’s left. Not many. If I don’t meet Vinny on Friday, I’m going to be out entirely, heat or not. I sigh and shake two pills into my palm, then cup water from the sink to swallow them. When I lift my head, I catch my reflection in the mirror. My skin is flushed, my eyes swollen and red from crying, hair pulled back in a way that says I gave up hours ago.
“Yes,” I murmur dryly to myself. “Beautiful. Exactly how one wants to look when telling their mate they love them for the first time.”
I pad into the kitchen long enough to pour myself a glass of wine, then return to the bathroom just as the tub reaches the right depth. I turn the taps off and set the glass on the edge of the counter, and I lower myself into the water.
The heat seeps into my muscles immediately, and I sigh deeply. I sink down until the water reaches my shoulders and let my head rest against the curved porcelain. I stay there for a while, letting the warmth and the wine take the edge off the tension still lodged in my body, but finally I can no longer put off the inevitable. I dry my hands on the towel next to my wine glass and pick up my phone.
I open Mark’s text thread and chew on my lip as I think of exactly what to say. Being at a loss for words is not something that I experience very often. An apology seems like a good place to start.
“I’m sorry. I panicked. I want to continue our conversation tomorrow. There are things I need to tell you.”
I stare at it for a while, gathering my courage, but finally I hit send.
The response back is instant, but not at all what I expected.
Message unable to be delivered
Hurt and betrayal flood my chest, and I sit up so violently that water splashes out onto the floor. He blocked me? Another wave of tears threatens to overwhelm me, and I can feel a panic attack building on the edges of my senses.
I breathe in through my nose and blow it out slowly from my mouth until I feel a modicum of control returning.
Okay. This isn’t ideal, but it’s not the end of the world. It isn’t like I don’t see him almost daily. I know where he will be tomorrow night—the mayor’s dinner. I’d been invited but hadn’t planned on attending.
Looks like my plans just changed.
Chapter Twenty
Mark
Marnie isn’t quite ready when I arrive to pick her up. It makes me smile because it reminds me of Jess. That is, it makes me smile until I realize it leaves me sitting awkwardly with her father and two of her brothers—all alphas and all glowering at me. It’s another bizarre reminder of the alternate reality that omegas live in. The fact that we are in our thirties and I feel like I’m on a high school date is insane. While Marnie might be one of the loveliest people I’ve ever met, when it comes to this, I’m not sorry we aren’t mates.
It’s been a miserable day, and honestly, I don’t want to go to this stupid dinner. Ava must be feeling as awful as I am, because I received notice from her office that all of our cases for the rest of the week were being rescheduled. I don’t think she’s ever rescheduled anything in the two years that I’ve known her. She could be sick, I suppose, which gives me an uncomfortable feeling in my chest to think about, but she’d seemed fine last night.
Marnie appears in the doorway to the living room, interrupting my doom spiral. A skintight red number a la Jessica Rabbit. I hope she and Adam are compatible, because if so, she’s about to knock his socks off, and I can’t wait to see him gaping like a fish. She’s piled all of her hair into some kind of messy updo that reminds me of Pamela Anderson in the ‘90s. There isn’t a red-blooded male alive that doesn’t remember and appreciate that look.
I stand and offer her my elbow. “You look beautiful. I was just thinking that I hope you and Adam hit it off, because he’s going to lose it over this dress.”
She laughs. “From your mouth to God’s ears. I’m so ready to find my mate that I don’t even care how desperate that sentence makes me sound.”
We head out to the private car I’d hired for the evening, and I hold the door open for her. Once inside and alone, she gives me a soft, concerned look. “How are you?”
I give a small shake of my head and a bitter laugh. “I have definitely been better. Bit hungover today, if I’m being honest.”
She nods in understanding. “Don’t say I blame you. Do you want to tell me more about it, since you said it was complicated? Or would you rather not talk about it at all? I can do whatever you need me to.”
I blow out a breath, weighing it. Fuck it. It’s over, and even if Marnie tried to stir up trouble by sharing our secret, something I honestly can’t picture her doing, there’s no proof she could take to the Bar Association anyway.
I fill her in on the details, and to no surprise, she’s wonderfully kind and supportive about it all. Eventually I’ve wrung it all out and we change the subject, spending the rest of the ride to Harvey’s chatting easily.
The sound of the car’s wheels crunching onto gravel alerts us that we’ve turned onto the long drive up to the mansion. Old trees line the drive, and the massive old colonial comes into view. Landscape lighting points upward at the house, illuminating the row of large windows, and of course, the American flag flying on display. Everything about it screams old money of New York’s elite. Harvey is nothing if not consistent with his branding, even here.
Marnie stops mid-sentence to look out the window, mouth wide as she stares out the window. “It just hit me that I’m actually about to go inside the freaking mayor of New York City’s house.”
