“For tonight.”
He looks pleased. “It was just a lecture.”
“Yes,” I say patiently. “A lecture you picked because you thought it would help me.”
He shrugs lightly. “I thought it would be a good way for us to connect.”
We walk a few more steps before he adds quietly, “You’ve built something incredible, Lark. It’s impressive.”
The sincerity in his voice makes my chest tighten slightly. Something warm settles low in my chest.
We turn a corner and a small café comes into view, its windows glowing softly against the dark sidewalk. Graham nudges the door open and gestures me inside.
“Warm and sweet,” he says. “Like you.”
I look up at him. He's already looking at the menu board, completely unbothered, like he didn't just say something that knocked the air out of me. Graham Wiley drops compliments like they're facts. It might be the most disarming thing about him.
A few minutes later we’re sitting at a small table with two steaming brown sugar lattes between us. The smell alone makes me smile.
We talk for a while longer. About new ideas for OmegaBox. About my love for spicy Mexican and sweet coffee. About nothing important and yet so important. The conversation drifts easily from one topic to another, comfortable and unforced.
One thought settles quietly in the back of my mind. Graham makes me feel seen. Not just as an omega, or as a scent match.
As Lark.
I stare down at my cup, watching the swirl of foam settle along the rim. Why didn’t I see it earlier?
It’s not just that Graham is thoughtful. It's that he's thoughtful about the right things. The specific things. A drone photo of a house I pointed to from my window. A lecture that was a little for him but mostly for me. Brown sugar lattes because he remembered.
He pays attention and then he acts on it. Every time. The realization pulls tight across my ribs. I love him. He’s been saying it every night, just before he drifts off. I’m not even sure that he knows I hear it. But I do. And I feel it too.
I look up at him. His face brightens over the rim of his paper cup.
“Graham,” I say.
He lowers the cup immediately. All focused attention. On me. “Yeah?”
“I love you.”
The words come out softer than I expect. Graham goes completely still. For half a second, he just looks at me as though he didn’t hear me right.
“You love me?” he asks quietly.
I’m a little breathless now that I’ve said it. “I do.”
His chocolate scent goes warm and melty. My omega kicks, sharp and sudden.
Mine.
He reaches across the table and takes my hand in his. “I was wondering when you would say it.”
“You knew?”
He shakes his head. “No, but I had a feeling.”
I chuckle. “You have a lot of feelings for a scientist.”
He smiles. “I do. And I have another one.”
