I bite back a laugh. Executive position? I’m an assistant.
“Vivian went out on a limb for you,” Aunt Karen continues. “She used her relationship with Marcus to get you that position. Do you know how many people would kill for your job?”
I feel myself deflating, a familiar guilt creeping in. She’s right. I should be grateful. I should be answering Marcus’s calls. I should be the perfect, dutiful omega assistant who never complains and always puts others first.
But also? I’m so goddamn tired of it all.
“I understand that,” I say carefully. “And I’m very grateful to both of you. But I’m not ignoring Marcus’s calls out of spite. I’m trying to have an actual vacation that I earned and need.”
“What else could you possibly be doing that’s more important? It’s not like you have anyone with you; the entire family is stuck on this cruise from hell.”
“I’ve been making friends. And walking a llama.”
There’s a long silence. “A what?”
“A llama. His name is Oxford. He’s actually staring at me right now. He also wears scarves.”
More silence. “Melody, are you feeling alright? Should we be concerned?”
“I’m fine, Aunt Karen. Better than fine, actually.” I pace the living room, Oxford’s head turning to follow my movement. “For the first time in a long time, I’m doing what I want to do instead of what everyone expects me to do.”
“This job is a tremendous opportunity—”
“That I’m grateful for,” I cut in. “But I’m entitled to my vacation time.”
“Marcus says there’s a crisis with the Henderson account—”
“There’s always a crisis with the Henderson account. And Marcus can handle it himself, or ask Janet in HR for help. That’s why I prepared all those transition documents before I left.”
I can practically hear her clutching her pearls. “I don’t recognize this attitude, Melody. This isn’t like you at all.”
“Maybe it should be,” I say softly.
I glance at Oxford, his dark eyes unblinking. Is it my imagination, or does he look… proud?
“You know what, Aunt Karen? I have plans today,” I say, surprising myself with the firmness in my voice. “I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”
“Melody, don’t you dare hang up on me. This is serious. Your career is at stake.”
My finger hovers over the end-call button. I’ve never hung up on Aunt Karen before. I’ve never hung up on anyone before. Good omegas don’t do that.
“Merry Christmas, Aunt Karen. Give my love to Uncle Ted and the cousins.” I press end call and set the phone face down on the counter, my hands shaking slightly.
My phone immediately starts ringing again, so I put it on vibrate, ignoring the feeling of panic. I need a distraction. “We’re building a snowman,” I announce to Oxford, who tilts his head as if considering the merits of my decision.
Twenty minutes later, I’m outside in the fresh snow, rolling a giant ball for the snowman’s base. My boots make a satisfying crunch as I step into the glittering powdered snow. The physical activity feels good, channeling my frustration into something productive. I roll the snowball until it is physically too heavy for me to keep pushing.
I’m not having a breakdown.
“I’ve spent my whole life trying to please everyone,” I vent to Oxford while aggressively patting the base of the snowman into shape. “My parents, my aunt, my boss. Everyone except me.”
Oxford watches from a safe distance.
“And what has it gotten me? A job I hate, an empty apartment, almost no friends outside work, because I never have time.” I can feel my frustration rising as I start on the middle section, packing snow more firmly than necessary. “Well, no more.”
It’s time I stood up for myself.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out to find a text from my aunt:
