Reclaiming His Omega Page 10

  “Yeah, that works.”

  I tried to tell from his voice if I’d upset him, but he said too few words to give me any clues.

  “So see you Sunday?” Miles said.

  “Sounds good.”

  He hung up and I collapsed back against my chair. What was I doing to myself? To him? I was playing with fire, and I knew it. I’d told Miles the other day that I was planning on staying put for a while, but when this played out with him, I was going to have to get away. I already knew it would be impossible to remain in the city and not seek him out like a stalker.

  I returned to my perplexing numbers and highlighted the issue with a note, sending it to my CFO and Lisa. I couldn’t let a discrepancy like that go unexplained. That done, I pulled up my project management software to look over the next couple of months. Surely there was a project that could benefit from me being on site for a longer period of time…

  28

  Miles

  Relief filled me when the electricians came to let me know they were finally finished and I could get back to the drudges of data organizing. Not that I loved it. Far from it, but it was better than sitting in my office not working, because I was trusted with nothing worthy of my actual education.

  The worst part about having no responsibilities wasn’t even the way it magnified what my dad thought of me, nope. It was that my mind kept wandering to Parker and that night. The fight was awful, but even as I left I knew that it would someday work out. I mean, we were going to have a baby and there would’ve been no fight if Parker hadn’t wanted us in his life. That part I could get past, or at least rationalize my way around. The part that still gnawed at me was when I woke up.

  Two full days I’d been out. And when I finally came to, my mother was at my side and nurses were fluttering around the room. From what I could piece together, they had known I was waking and had been hovering until I did.

  But Parker? He wasn’t there. Not when I woke. Not when I was told our baby was gone. Not ever. I’d begged and pleaded with my mom to call him, telling her over and over again which contact to use before she finally admitted to me that she already talked to him and he said we were over. I never cried as much as I did that week and when my phone never showed up when I checked out, I took it as a sign to let go and move on, going so far as to replace it with a new number.

  Not that I ever moved on, not relationship wise, but I did achieve my goals education wise. So there was that.

  Pushing the memories down, I walked into the room, ready to scan the day away. I’d made some excellent progress and had only a handful of years left to file. Part of me wanted to slow down so I had a few more days to work, but the part of me that loved checking a to-do list wouldn’t allow it.

  The box was halfway scanned when I came upon three empty folders all in a row. My father’s handwriting was on them, so I grabbed my phone and shot him a text to see if he had them. It wasn’t unusual for the lawyers to snag a file if it might help them with a current case. Given the name on the files, it sounded real estate oriented, so he probably wanted to show a precedent for some zoning waver or something. When he didn’t respond right away, I went back to scanning, figuring I could go back later and fill in the gaps.

  Chances were the scanned docs were just to have a back up anyway. Even the techiest of people in this office lived for the paper files when it came to research. I got that. I read with more attention to detail off screen than on.

  The door crashing into the wall made me jump, scattering files everywhere.

  “Explain to me why you are noising around files,” my father bellowed into the room. Not that I wouldn’t have known he was pissed off after he threw the door open like that.

  “What do you mean? I’m just doing what you asked. Scan. Replace. Repeat.” I might be pushing thirty, but hearing my father like that still made me shake just as much as when I was a kid.

  “Your text.” He was livid.

  I thought back to the text. Do you have the Greenberg and Geriome Estate files? It seemed benign to me.

  “I was just working on that section of files and saw the empty hanging files and thought you might be using them for a new case is all.” Why was I explaining myself? I’d done nothing wrong.

  “I am,” he said, his voice faltering. Was he lying to me? Why? This was a side of my father I didn’t like. “Your job is to file not read.”

  It was an order, as if I could read all the files and ever get done with this mess.

  “Not reading,” I assured him. “ In fact, I should be done today, three days less than you estimated, even with the electrical interruption.”

  “Very good.” He nodded before heading out of the room. What the heck? Just as he got to the threshold, he added, “When you are finished, let me know.”

  “Will do,” I promised before going back to work.

  I spent the next two hours hypothesizing and conjecturing what that entire scenario had been about, coming to the conclusion that he was just being a jerk, when my phone buzzed.

  A quick glance put a smile on my face. Parker.

  How’s your day?

  This was new. Sure we’d had some back and forth texting, but it’s always been about something specific. This felt different.

  Good. Ish. Data storage. It’s as exciting as you would imagine. You?

  Long, but good. Marcus called.

  Marcus called. I’d been avoiding Om after the fiasco I set up there, but it sounded like maybe I did some good? I hoped so.

  I’m glad. You wanna talk about it? I doubted he would, at least not in a text but I wanted to offer. Especially since I had been the catalyst of them reconnecting.

  Not yet. His answer came after a full couple of minutes. Either he got another phone call and needed to focus on work during the time lapse or he almost took me up on my offer.

  When you’re ready, I’ll be here. I typed and then just as quickly erased. We weren’t a couple and pretending we were to myself was less than healthy. I replaced it with a lame: Ok

  My assistant is barrelling in here. Looks like I need to make a last minute conference call. See you soon.

  Sounds good.

  I put my phone in my pocket and went back to work, staying far past the close of business and missing dinner at home, which was for the best. By the time I walked out of the office, the entire project was done and I was ready to eat. If my memory was correct, it was banana cream pie day, which made it practically a fruit, so off to the diner I went to grab some pie before heading back to the emotional minefield I was currently calling home.

  29

  Parker

  I’d pushed my Sunday night call back a few hours so that I could still fit it in after dinner with Miles and his parents. For some reason, it had taken me less time to prepare than normal. Maybe it was because I was acutely aware that once Miles arrived, work time was over. Even with that weighing on me, or perhaps because of it, I found myself twiddling my thumbs, waiting for Miles to arrive. I busied myself, searching the internet for bars and cafes near my condo. I lived fairly close to downtown, so the number of choices was nearly overwhelming. I supposed we could just take the elevator down and then walk down the street, but then I wouldn’t have had anything to do until Miles arrived.

  I wasn’t used to this feeling of expectation. I knew what I wanted, I knew what I could do, I did it, I got it, done. I hadn’t waited on anything or anyone since I left school behind me, especially someone who made my heart skip beats while racing like a cheetah after an antelope.

  I checked my phone for about the thirty seventh time to make sure I’d sent Miles the correct address when a knock sounded on my door, making me jump. I forced myself to walk calmly to the door, stopping to check my hair on the way. Suddenly nervous, I checked my breath with a cupped hand and a huff. Minty. Not that I would get that close to Miles, but…

  Miles stood at my door looking… exquisite. The deep purple of his shirt made his eyes look more green than ever. My eyes ke
pt drifting to his kissable lips, swollen from nervous bites. That hadn’t changed. I remembered exactly how soft and warm those lips were, how I had been able to steal his breath away…

  Meeting at my house was seeming like less of a good idea by the second, but Miles pushed passed me, raising a bottle of wine in his hands. “Pregame?”

  “Say what?”

  “I took a taxi over so we wouldn’t have to worry about cars. If you can taxi there and back, we can have a few drinks before meeting my parents.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

  “Come one, Parker. You remember what an awful liar I am sober. A couple glasses of wine, and I’ll ace this dinner, no problem. Then it’s freedom for you and free sailing for me.”

  If I’d been wondering if Miles had started “pregaming” before he arrived, I had little question as he tripped on my completely flat and clear floor.

  “Whoops,” he giggled.

  I hurried behind him and plucked the wine out of his hands. “You are absolutely right about your ability to lie, but let’s keep you at an acceptably tipsy level, okay? I think you’ve had enough for a little while.”

  Miles collapsed on a bar stool without argument. “Fair enough.” He sighed, looking around my apartment. “How do you do it, Parker?”

  “Do what?” I asked, setting the wine in an empty spot on my wine rack.

  “Live so… easily. Is it because you’re working all the time? Is life easier when you don’t have family and friends?” His eyes were wide as he looked at me.

  “I have friends. And family.”

  “Oh, right.” Miles nodded. “Zeke.”

  My brother’s name twisted around my heart. “And parents,” I said.

  “Parents that wouldn’t have approved of me,” he said morosely.

  I felt the old frustration building up, but it flew away in the wind as I remembered what had happened the last time I had fought with Miles. Mostly, it had been about him transferring away, but every frustration and wrong we had committed against each other had been brought up and flung like missiles. Instead, I said, “I can’t think of anyone who wouldn’t approve of you, Miles.”

  His face softened into a goofy grin. “That’s sweet.”

  I blushed. “It’s just the truth.”

  He slumped against the bar. “That would be nice if it were. I can tell you one person who doesn’t approve of me—make that two: my dad and my mom.”

  “Surely that’s not true,” I said, and I had a sudden memory of a similar argument with Zeke, about our mother and father. “What makes you think that?”

  Miles leaned forward, suddenly intense. “Do you know how many cases I’ve been allowed to work on since returning home? Even just as a paralegal, researching? Zero. I’m a lawyer, Parker. A damn good one, and my dad won’t even deign to assign me research on the most basic case. And then my mother, she’s even worse. Just because she was more than content, no, she wanted to be a house omega, she sees it as a personal failure that I haven’t followed in her footsteps. And to top it all off, when they finally decide to pay some attention to my life, it’s to dictate who I should date and possibly marry. And he’s awful. Have I told you how awful, Parker? Old. Creepy. His eyes burn me like acid. I feel as if I’ve been stripped naked in front of him, and not in the good way. Would parents who actually cared about me choose someone like that?”

  I pulled the bottle of wine back off the rack and opened it, pouring myself a glass. Miles looked hopeful, but smiled in acceptance when I refused to pour him one.

  “You alphas don’t understand,” he said sleepily, his head drifting lower. “You don’t have to fight and scrap and claw for every shriveling shred of acceptance. You expect it to be given to you, and people ha-a-appily comply.” He yawned through the last words, and his head settled solidly on the bar.

  Well. That was unexpected. We still had an hour before we needed to leave for Miles’s parents’ house, so I set my wineglass on the counter and circled around to pull Miles off the stool and into my arms. I quickly realized that wasn’t the best decision for my health and well-being. If just seeing Miles had been enough for me to throw away all my well-thought plans to get out of his way and let him live his life, holding him tempted me to contemplate crazier, more dangerous things. I briefly considered laying him on my couch, but it had been purchased for looks, not for comfort, so I turned down the hallway and laid him on top of my bed. He looked so innocent asleep. Like he didn’t know what pain was. How I wished that were true.

  I indulged myself for just a moment, resting a hand against his firm jaw, and then I practically ran back to the kitchen where I was safe, and he was safe from me.

  30

  Miles

  I rolled over, startling myself awake as I scented him… Parker, all vanilla and cinnamon. I sprang up. I was in a bed the size of Nebraska. Make that his bed. How the heck did I get in Parker’s bed… clothed? It came rushing back to me. Pregaming Parker’s had not been my best idea, but my father had been on my case all morning, snagging me before I was fully awake and able to escape the house as I usually did on the weekends, and I’d needed something to calm down before heading over to Parker’s.

  I hadn’t even had but a couple of drinks, but exhaustion and stressed mixed with my low tolerance had me turning into a sleepy mess. I knew better and now I was going to pay for it. At least I was good and sober now even if it came with a side of being a hot mess.

  Standing up, I attempted to brush the wrinkles from my clothing. It was a fool’s errand. I could only imagine how badly the back was wrinkled. It was going to be so fun when my parents decided to comment on that. Maybe Parker had an iron I could borrow.

  I padded out the door and down the hallway until I hit a dead end and then turned around to go the other way. How was it possible to have an apartment one could get lost in? I mean, I knew Parker did well, but this was a level of well-off I couldn’t fully comprehend. I found him where I last saw him, the kitchen, leaning against the counter, his brow furrowed.

  “Sorry,” I mumbled as I made my way over to him. Leave it to me to get drunk and fall asleep. At least I wasn’t a mean drunk. Sleep generally was my thing. Sleep and over-sharing, which I also did. Unfortunately, the sleep didn’t take away all of my pre-game lubrication. It did add some dog breath though, so I was losing all the way around.

  “For what?” Parker straightened up, stepped as if he were going to come closer, then stopped in his tracks.

  “Falling asleep and making you carry me out.” He smiled at that, not that I should be reading so much into a stupid smile. “What?” I asked, not wanting to know as much as wanting him to stop. Being here, in his space, was overwhelming, especially the scent. How had it gotten yummier over time?

  “Your hair.” He pointed to my left side, my hand immediately tracing the side of my head. Crap on a cracker, it was sticking straight out. My parents weren’t going to be impressed. At least Parker looked amazing.

  “Kill me now,” I groaned. “I’m sure you’ve noticed the wrinkles, too.”

  He bit his lip, clearly bemused. At least he found humor in it, because my parents sure as shit wouldn’t.

  “I need to pull myself together before dinner.” He didn’t even pretend to argue that I looked fine. I imagined it was far worse than my original assessment. “Bathroom?”

  “Second door on the left.”

  “Iron?” I crossed my fingers he had one.

  “That I can’t help you with. I send them out.” Of course he did. I was so screwed.

  “Yeah, me too.” At least, I had, before moving home. Now my mother did them because she got some strange sense of accomplishment doing laundry and cooking. She was the epitome of a house omega, down to the homemade bread. “My parents are going to be less than impressed when I show up like this.”

  “And a half hour late.”

  “What?” I exclaimed. I hadn’t even thought about that. I had no idea how l
ong I’d slept. Could I mess things up any more than I already have?

  “We’re supposed to be there in five minutes.”

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  “Want one of my shirts and ties?”

  What could go wrong being wrapped in his scent?

  “My pants would look like clown pants on you, but I’m sure we could make one of my shirts work.”

  I accepted his offer, because what the heck else could I do? At least my pants were dark and once we were seated no one would be able to tell how rumpled they were. “Thanks. Let me fix my hair a bit.”

  I all but ran into the bathroom. A brief gander told me I needed more than a five minute fresh up, but that was all I had. I sent a quick text to my dad apologizing, letting him know we would be a bit late, and then turned off my phone and slipped it in my pocket. I didn’t want to deal with his response right now.

  I did the best I could to flatten my hair, wetting it and using Parker’s comb. I also helped myself to his mouthwash, doing the best I could to make myself somewhat less gross. If my dad hadn’t controlled my whole day, if I hadn’t been thinking so constantly about Parker, my apprehension over being with him, in his space, after all these years—maybe I wouldn’t have drank too much.

  Parker was waiting outside the bathroom when I finally emerged, holding out a shirt remarkably close to the color I was wearing. I slid my shirt off and his on. It was too big, his muscles far more defined than mine, but tucked in, it was passible, and since it almost matched mine there was a slight possibility my parents wouldn’t even notice.

  “You look good in my clothes.”

  I blushed at his appraisal as I finished adjusting the tie that had hung on the hanger with the shirt.