Page 46 of Knot So Social

“Money flows to you, Willow,” I whisper under my breath. “You live in abundance; the resources you need are always within reach.”

No alpha can cut up my cards or spend it on car parts for projects sitting dead in the garage. And even when I pay a bill, my income streams will flow in to fill the dent. Just yesterday, one of the stocks in my portfolio paid out seven grand in dividends.

A Heat Wave service officer coming to my house is a non-negotiable expense. Plus, it’s a sign of how well that I’m doing that I can pay this bill without needing the funding offsets—let the struggling omegas benefit from those options.

Only after the bill’s paid do I relax.

I spend a moment being grateful for my circumstances and even thanking myself and for all the hard work it took to build my current financial situation. It required so much effort to overcome my fears—most of them.

Now what? Friday is four days away. I still need to clean the nest, but I can take care of that tomorrow. More urgently, I need a bed to put in there, plus something to make the room look less abandoned.

I search the web for an omega store in Dallas that can do overnight delivery and then scroll through their nest options. Pretty curtains, fluffy cushions, diffusers. It’s a world I haven’t stepped into for so long; my omega soul quivers with uncertainty.

Then I spy a cute woven basket that speaks to me. And a set of cushions with an elegant scroll pattern. Both get added to the shopping cart. Now for the bed. Before I know it, Mr Shares shoves his wet nose into my knee and I jump, looking up to discover it’s completely dark outside and I have a crick in my neck.

My cart has a hundred and four items in it.

“Huh?” I massage my neck as I click over. The total comes to $3000.

“Whoa,” I whisper to myself. That’s a lot.

I scroll through the items, pausing at the thumbnail of a pretty sequin blanket. I’ve never had my own nest, for real. Compared to the backseat of my car, the empty room down the hall is already a luxury.

And the one nest I did have—I force down the choking sensation.

“You’re allowed to have a nest,” I mumble. “A nice one that’s all yours.”

Mr Shares senses my anxiety. He jumps up on the couch and wiggles his way under my elbow, nudging my arm until I cuddle him.

“What do you think, Mr Shares? I’m allowed to have a beautiful nest, aren’t I?”

I grasp his head with both hands and nod it up and down. When I speak, I adopt a playful, deeper voice. “Why, yes, Willow. Omegas need nests for their mental and physical health. Relaxation and comfort is vital to managing the heat fever.”

“Thank you for that advice Mr Shares. If my therapy dog says so, it must be true.”

We stare at each other for a moment, and then I laugh and ruffle his golden fur.

I take another peek at my cart balance, this time with less emotion. My little spree won’t even put a dent in my daily account, let alone my emergency fund.

“What’s it for, if not this?” I ask my dog. It’s not like I’ll ever travel or go out to concerts.

He wags his tail, batting it against the sofa.

If I must go through this heat, then I might as well treat myself—and hopefully make the process a little fun. I smash the buy button before I can talk myself out of getting all the pretties.

I go to bed with a speck of weight lifting from my shoulders. Things aren’t ideal, but I can bear them.

The delivery truck backs up to my front door. The young worker swings out of the truck and checks his hand-held device before getting a trolley out and loading it up with boxes.

I heave the front door open as he maneuvers the load up the step. “Hello. Could you bring them inside, please?” I ask.

He glances through the doorway, eyes narrowing. We both know he’s not supposed to, but I’m a harmless omega. One with a panic button remote in her hand, but he doesn’t know that.

He scratches his head and angles the trolley. “Sure. Just inside the door?”

“Go past the foyer so we don’t trip on them, please.”

He brushes past me and unloads the boxes.