One Last Chance (Venusverse #1)
1. Chapter 1
Chapter 1
Dayton
The second I finally complete the dreaded data analysis I’ve been struggling with all day, I hear my phone chime, and already know deep inside my soul it’s from Ma. Slumping in the chair, I groan and swirl around, taking the phone out of my pocket.
As expected, I’m faced with another thrilling prospect.
Good news. I’ve set up another blind date for you!
My eyes roll to the back of my head, almost before my brain even comprehends the entire message. I know she’s trying to help, and I did agree to it technically , but this is getting tiresome. And depressing. Like keeping around a comatose patient with no chance of survival. At some point, it’s time to give up. Do the humane thing.
I know his mother. He’s a well-established alpha open to see you. He’s handsome, too. I think this time it might work out!
Call me when you can to set up the date. No time to waste!!
Sliding even further down, I rub my forehead. Her gentle hint that my time is running out only adds to the headache caused by a long day of cleaning data and making PowerPoints.
I get it, Ma. My mortality and the ticking biological clock are no longer something I can ignore, even without your reminders.
I too expected to be somewhere else at thirty-one. In a long-term relationship, with a kid even… Instead, I’m losing any desirability and chances to find someone with each passing day, like an overripe banana no one wants to pick up in the damn grocery store.
“What’s with that long face?”
I yelp and nearly fall off the chair, startled by the voice above me.
Smacking my hand over my chest, I look up at Joane, who stands leaning against my cubicle with an apologetic grimace. “My god! Can’t sneak up on me like this. You’re going to give me a heart attack.”
“Sorry about that,” she blurts out. Anxious energy dances behind her wide-set brown eyes.
Ever since she transferred here, this poor woman has been trying to make friends with me. It’s no wonder, considering this office is filled with fifty-something-year-olds, and we are the only younger people in the department. I’ve been too busy with establishing a new large client to give her much attention, though. Even after she gave me her last cup of coffee that one time we were stuck here working overtime.
“It’s fine. I thought I was the only one still here,” I say with a smile, putting the phone on the desk next to me. With a sigh, I join my hands over my stomach and turn fully to face her. I guess some social interaction would do me good. All I’m seeing when I close my eyes are numbers and tables.
“Oh, well…you know how I do. Don says I’m still messing up the extracting. He wanted me to go through all of my files again to make sure there are no errors he has to fix tomorrow.” Her body language eases as she crosses her arms over her chest and leans into the cubicle wall.
I can tell she’s been itching all day to talk to someone, so I push my own issues aside to give her a sympathetic response. “Don’s a lazy bastard. He should’ve retired a decade ago, the dinosaur,” I say with a chuckle and get one back from Joane.
“Anyhow, I noticed you’ve been really low today. You didn’t even go to lunch,” she says, brows drooping with worry. Leaning in, she lowers her voice and makes this ridiculously awkward expression, “Is it…you know, your heat period? Are you not feeling well?” Her voice is careful, as if she’s speaking about some sensitive topic she doesn’t want me to get offended over. She also isn’t very successful at hiding the curious undertones.
I have to work hard to suppress a smirk clawing its way onto my lips. God, some betas are absolutely clueless. I reckon she didn’t grow up in a very diverse area.
“Er, no,” I say with a light chuckle. Seeing the panic on her face, I quickly raise my arms to come off as easygoing as possible. “Nothing like that. Just wasn’t hungry. I’ve been having a little existential crisis today is all.”
I’m usually the last one to complain about my life to people I barely know, but the girl has been looking for an excuse to chat for weeks, and as sad as that fact is, I don’t really have anyone else to talk to besides family. These past few years, every one of my friends from college slowly drifted away. They started families, moved to bigger cities, changed careers… Hardly anyone still checks up with the sad, single, boring ‘ol me.
Before I even blink, Joane is already pulling a chair from the nearby cubicle to set it in front of me, eyes fixated on me with a caring, engaged intensity. “ Oh, how so?” she asks while she sits.
A part of me recoils at unloading my petty problems onto this young woman, but maybe the feedback of an oblivious beta is exactly what I need.
“The usual,” I say with a self-deprecating chuckle, resting my chin against my balled fist, elbow balancing on the armrest. “Just turned thirty-one, still single, not one stable relationship in years, with my mothers constantly behind my back trying to set me up with a bunch of alphas who’ll end up being incompatible anyway…”
Joane nods attentively and purses her lips. “Well, thirty-one isn’t old at all!” She sounds truly well-meaning in her eager attempt at comfort, so I smile and tilt my head.
“It is for a male omega.”
“Oh,” she blurts, a faint blush to her already rosy cheeks. I can’t blame her for being ignorant—they teach the basics of venus sexes at school, but unless someone like her has close friends who are like that, she won’t have any idea about the small ways my life differs from hers. Actually, the only betas I’ve ever met who were scarily knowledgeable about our biology were those strange fetishists…
I wave my hand aloofly. “It’s fine.” She doesn’t strike me as discriminatory or freaked out, which is great in my book. “Male omegas can have trouble getting pregnant. Anything over thirty, and most people who care for that sort of thing basically see you as a geriatric. That’s what it’s considered in medicine, too—‘geriatric pregnancy’. Sounds fun, huh?”
Joane’s eyes keep bulging out of her head like she’s a child and I’m explaining something out of this world magical.
“So you…want kids in that way? I’m sorry! I don’t mean to be offensive or— I’ve never really met a pregnant man, actually. Well, pregnant omega man, I should say, since my cousins’ best friend has a trans husband, who was pregnant, but I only met him briefly at a wedding.” The speed at which all of that comes out of her mouth is almost asking to be considered for some sort of Guinness Book of Record nomination. “I mean, of course, I know omega men get pregnant. I’ve seen it in movies and stuff, but—”
My titter stops her panicked rambling, thank god . “You’ve never really been around an omega. I get it. You can relax. I know that venus aren’t really common in this area. It’s what, like six percent of the city’s population?”
“Think so,” Joane says, and her tense posture seems to relax with a deep exhale. She still darts her eyes around my face to gauge if I’m truly not offended, but I keep smiling. This isn’t the first time I’ve been met with an awkward reaction like this.
“Anyway,” I continue with ease, “there are usually two types of people when it comes to dating someone like me. Those who don’t care about all the second gender BS, and the purists. I’m gay, so being with a female alpha is out of the question, and two male omegas have abhorrent conception rates. So, my only chance to have my own kid is getting together with a male alpha, but…like I said, for most of them, I’m already past my expiration date for starting a family. If they want to date an omega, it’s often to keep passing these damn genes on, so why lose your time with one who might not even have time to do so,” I say with a shrug, and internally groan over the tragic tone my speech took.
I thought telling her might make me feel better, but now I just sound like I’m throwing a pity party for myself. Joane frowns, visibly calculating something in her mind. I can almost see the gears spin. “I thought you people have like…the best fertility rates?”
“With an already established pregnancy, yeah. Miscarriages are virtually unheard of, but it’s not always as easy when it comes to the actual conception. My particular set of circumstances has the hardest time.” Because of course I do…
“So why not be with a normal—I mean beta—man? That still works, no?”
I snort, feeling sorry for how hard she’s trying to get it all right. Like me trying to grasp algebraic geometry at school. “Yeah, it could… If my parents weren’t my parents,” I say with the appropriate amount of exhaustion. “The purists I mentioned? Alphas and omegas who are real proud to be what they are, for whatever reasons, and want to preserve our little subspecies by only getting together with each other? My parents sort of fall under that.”
She raises her brows. “Oh…”
Judging by her horrified expression, I worry I might have made it out to be a little more severe than it is, so I straighten up in the chair and clarify. “Don’t get me wrong. It’s not like they would disown me if I got together with a beta. I dated a few in the past. I admit, they weren’t thrilled about it,” I say with a bitter grimace, “but they really just want what’s best for me, and think the perfect bond with an alpha is it. I come from a long line of omegas and alphas with hardly any mixing outside of that. They’re just…proud of that heritage. I don’t really care for it that much, but I’m their only child, so I don’t want to disappoint them. Would be a shame to let all those generations go to waste,” I mutter, lowering my gaze.
Problem is that if I don’t find an alpha willing to have me who I can also stand, or even love, it will go to waste, anyway.
“I see.” Joane nods sharply, tapping her hands over her knees. “I don’t know if it’s comparable, but my mom had my younger brother in her forties. It’s not easy , but not impossible either, so I’m sure it’s not as hopeless as it might seem,” she says and her na?ve, wide grin actually moves something within me. The stomach cramp I’ve had all day from stress eases, and for a moment, I feel like maybe things aren’t as hopeless as they might seem.
Only she doesn’t even know about my pheromone issue, sitting on top of everything like the notional cherry. Mushy, rotten, stupid cheery. And there’s no way I can burden her simple, beta mind explaining all that .
“Yeah…” I force a smile that I hope will somehow trick my mind into becoming a bit more positive as well. “You’re right. I guess I’ll see soon if my next romantic venture turns out to be anything more than another douche with commitment issues, since my mom is already lining up another date as we speak,” I say, lifting my phone and waving it to the side, screen up.
“I’m sure it will work out, Dayton.”
I wish . And I wish I didn’t have dozens of dates ghosting me after our encounter to make me think otherwise.
“We should probably get out of here,” I say, glancing at the clock. “The cleaners will be here any minute, and they hate when anyone stays while they work. God, the looks they give you!” I roll my eyes and Joane laughs in agreement.
We both stand, and as she returns the chair to where she got it from, I stare blankly at the back of her head. Maybe going back to my empty apartment to another sad night of watching game shows and ordering takeout isn’t something I should subject myself to today.
“Hey,” I blurt, surprising myself, and Joane turns. I keep telling myself to go out more and make friends—friends I don’t intend to fuck and start a family with. She seems nice enough, so why not? “You want to go for a beer or something? I know it’s Wednesday evening, but it’s been a long day of infuriating team meetings for both of us. Feels like we both need a little mid-week break.”
A spark of light brightens her eyes. Without a hesitation she nods, looking like an excited puppy. “I’d love to! Any place you like? I moved into the city four months ago, so I don’t really know many places. This job has been a steep learning curve, so I didn’t even have time. Where do you think we should go? I’ve been seeing this restaurant on the way to work every day and always wanted to go. Do you like shellfish?”
Joane rambles away while I turn off my computer and clear my desk. She sounds relaxed, like we’re old friends, and that puts me at ease. I decide that for the rest of the day, all I want is to hear about is her.
No more overthinking my own damn life. At least for tonight.