The sight nearly knocks the air out of my lungs. The Lowen family is enormous. The patriarch had five children, and Blue is the youngest son.
I spot him too, the patriarch himself, a broad, silver-haired figure seated at the head of the table with undeniable authority. On his left sits a white-haired omega, his husband and the dad of all the Lowen children, and on his right, interestingly, sits Blue.
The rest of the sons are surrounded by their families crowded around them. I see the patriarch speaking, but even though I could probably make out his words through the glass, I have no interest in listening.
My eyes lock onto Blue.
He sits in silence beside his father, staring at his plate.
His hands rest on either side of it near the cutlery, his fingers moving slightly, and as I watch that small, absent motion, I just know…
…that he is thinking about me.
There is something dimmed in his expression, a kind of hidden heaviness.
I can feel that sadness even from here. Did what I said earlier, my sudden spiral of insecurity, hurt him somehow?
But why?
It was not about him, not in a negative way.
Maybe he feels that he failed at explaining it to me, to convince me I should not feel inferior. Perhaps even he, a genius, ran out of arguments when it came to my chaotic emotions.
Or possibly it is because I refused to come inside and sit at the table with him, even though we both already know I am his True Mate, and the other True Mates are sitting together while I am not, excluded on my own request, scared he would be ashamed of me, of who I am.
Because let’s be honest: I’m a worse case than Storm, whom they accepted. He was accused by his ex-husband, but never proven guilty. It had nothing to do with the Lowens.
I, on the other hand, am a man who attacked Blue’s company, got caught, was thrown in prison, judged, put on display at a contract fair… and now walks around with an ankle monitor.
Can you blame me for cowering in front of all those people, their eyes ready to judge, to show contempt? What a ‘great’ candidate for a new member of their closed group I am. A truly disastrous match.
And yet, through all these self-degrading thoughts, I cannot take my eyes off him.
My heart still aches for him.
Undeserving as I am, I still crave him, I stare at his delicate, beautiful face, because to me it’s so perfect, at his slight figure, and I feel this desperate urge to go inside, pull him into my arms, hold him close, tell him everything I feel, beg for his forgiveness.
But I am ashamed, afraid.
I sink down onto one of the low stone planters and press my hands over my face.
I know this evening is going to be painful and lonely.
Before I will grow into myself.
BLUE
On the way back home, Gabriel is quiet and withdrawn. We barely speak. I only inform him that instead of flying commercial, we will take my private jet, since I have arranged it with Sebastian.
He accepts it with visible relief.
By the time we arrive, it is already late. Gabriel goes to take a shower, and when I do the same and return, I find him already lying in bed.
For the past two days, we have been sleeping in my bedroom.
I quietly lie down beside him. He is on his back, eyes half closed, one arm thrown behind his head.
I have this strange thought that this is the kind of moment where a nest would help. If only I knew how to build one. I don’t really have that instinct, but I know that when my father had a stressful day, he would go to the nest my dad had built for them, and its energy would soothe him, calm him down, and restore his strength. Unfortunately, that’s the part of being an omega I can’t offer Gabriel right now. But where I can’t give him that kind of nest energy and grounding, I can try to make up for it by talking…
