19. Emmeline
19
Emmeline
I don’t know when Evander dropped clothes off for me, but I’m so glad that he did.
I smooth out my dress, eyeing myself in the mirror in the bedroom. My stomach is still flat, maybe even flatter than it was before I found out I was pregnant. I think my hips have lost some of their curve, my ribs a little more prominent.
The curse of the sickness, I suppose.
But my boobs seem a little fuller. A little more… present.
Is that possible at this stage? Is this the first sign of the baby inside me growing? My body changing to prepare for their arrival?
I don’t think so.
I’m just gaslighting myself.
I heave a breath and try to gather the courage to go downstairs for some breakfast. I don’t know when Paxton left, his scent too strong from the stolen clothes, but, unlike Uri, he at least left a note telling me he would be in the kitchen waiting for me once I was ready.
I cast a longing glance at my lovely nest before walking out of the room. I’m so glad there’s nobody around to catch me inhaling gulps of air—gulps of their scent—as I make my way down to the kitchen because it’s mortifying.
Being an omega is just mortifying.
But something feels… off.
My nose twitches, my body instinctively searching for a reason that I feel this way. It’s clear—Uri’s scent isn’t here.
Not even a little bit.
My steps falter. It shouldn’t matter that he didn’t come home.
I shouldn’t care.
But I do.
I round the corner, noting only Paxton and Oscar are here. The third coffee mug on the counter with steam coming off it makes it clear Sterling was recently here, though.
“Good morning, little treasure,” Paxton says, beaming at me. He’s standing at the kitchen counter wearing a full suit. The dark grey colour compliments his senna skin tone.
For the second time today, I’m embarrassed by the pathetic way my omega reacts. Her whine is full of desperation and need.
I shift on my feet, trying to avoid the intense stares from both my alphas—both the alphas.
Come on, Emme, stop fooling yourself.
My omega is still humming from Paxton’s attention, my skin flushed from the way he looked at me—or embarrassment, who knows.
Reality crashes back in. Surely, this is… I swallow hard, forcing myself to clear my throat.
“I should eat something,” I murmur more to myself than them. My body is still weak, my stomach a little unsettled, but I need to try.
At this point, it’s not the pregnancy but anxiety, and I can’t allow myself to let my baby suffer due to my own selfishness.
Paxton watches me carefully, his expression unreadable. “That’s a good idea, little treasure. Do you want some toast? Some porridge?”
“Eggs are good for pregnant women. Good protein. Can you stomach them?” Oscar asks, not looking up from what he’s doing on his phone.
I shrug and nod, happy that my tummy doesn’t cramp in protest at the idea of scrambled eggs. As Paxton moves to fix me a plate, I lower myself onto one of the stools, letting the warmth of the kitchen settle around me.
But even with the strong scent of Paxton’s cinnamon and spice lingering in the air, there’s an unspoken tension pressing down on my shoulders. I need… I need to know.
Oscar’s scent is notably lacking, the alpha already soaked in scent neutraliser, and a pang hits me square in the chest at another scent that I’m missing.
Sure, Sterling’s doesn’t hurt because I know he’s coming back. And the lack of Oscar’s is soothed by his presence.
But Uri? He’s not just absent from this room—he’s gone.
My stomach clenches, and I have to look down at my lap to avoid the others catching my troubled expression. Alphas usually leave traces of themselves everywhere—in the air, in the walls, on the people they’re around.
And nobody carries Uri’s scent today.
Even though the two alphas are doing what they can to act like things are fine, I can tell he’s holding something back—they both are.
It feels very uncomfortable, very… uncertain.
It’s horrible.
“Did Uri come home last night?” I can’t help but blurt out my question, a desperate need for it to be answered filling me.
Paxton’s hand stills on the counter, just for a fraction of a second, and my stomach sinks.
“I’m sorry.” His answer is clipped, full of frustration and resentment. His scent darkens, but he maintains his composure.
That tells me enough.
Oscar’s phone screen glows in front of him, his fingers unmoving over the screen, but his jaw ticks like he’s biting back something he wants to say. Even Paxton, usually so steady, seems… guarded.
My stomach churns, the unease growing in the air.
“What is it?” I ask, glancing between them. “Is… is he okay?”
Paxton exhales through his nose, placing my plate down with deliberate care. “We’re worried about you, little treasure.”
My brows furrow. “I’m okay.”
It’s mostly true. My stomach isn’t twisting in sickness for once, my body doesn’t feel as weak as it did days ago. Physically, I’m doing better.
Mentally… well, that’s something my bosses don’t need to be clued in on.
“Are you?” Oscar asks, voice steady but sharp. His stormy grey eyes meet mine, searching. “Because you’re not acting like a pregnant omega should be, Emme.”
My heart stutters, and I can feel my face paling.
Does my alpha find me lacking?
Does he think I’m a bad mum ?
A bad omega?
“Even with our scents, you’re not eating enough. You’re exhausted and anxious. Your brother claims you’re losing weight, and none of that is good for you—or the baby. Plus, your scent?—”
I freeze.
My scent.
“Your scent is mouth-watering,” Paxton says gently. “But we’re concerned about how… subdued it seems to be.”
“I—” I swallow hard, suddenly conscious of the way I’ve been feeling.
Jonas reassured me I wasn’t harming the baby. That, at this stage, the only damage is to myself. My tiny little tag-along is able to leech everything they need from me without risking themselves.
He promised the baby was okay.
But was he wrong? Have I done something?
“Do you feel comfortable going to the doctor’s office today?” Oscar asks.
I blink, startled by the sudden shift in conversation. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Do you feel comfortable going to the doctor’s office today?” Paxton repeats, his voice a lot softer than Oscar’s was.
The sudden shift in conversation feels less like a pivot and more like a plan already made.
Like they’ve already decided this without me and just need me to get with the programme.
I wrap my arms around myself, ignoring the food in front of me. No longer excited about scrambled eggs, I feel sick, hollow .
“It’s a Saturday,” I remind them, half-heartedly thinking it might get me out of it.
Oscar nods. “Yes. That does tend to follow Friday.”
I roll my eyes, a grin quirking up my lips. “They’re not open on weekends.”
“Oscar has some contacts,” Paxton says, waving his hand. “We’ll be seen today if you’re comfortable.”
“Contacts?” I look at Oscar in confusion. “Why do you have contacts with doctors? You’re a CFO for a marketing agency.”
Oscar’s lips thin. “I’m sure we’ll discuss that another day. Right now, you just need to decide if you’re up for it.”
The two alphas exchange a look, and my gut clenches. I don’t know what they’re keeping from me, but it’s not good. Oscar clenches his fists and then looks away, his body tensing.
Then I think back to the day we met properly and how I got the indication that Odelia was sick. Clearly, it’s worse than I expected.
“I just don’t see why.” I wrap my arms around my waist.
“I want to court you, Emmeline,” Paxton says firmly. “That’s important to me before we bond. I want you to feel cherished—to feel like you’re important to me, for more than just the baby you carry.”
My breath stutters, my fingers tightening over my stomach. The air seems to thicken around me.
Sure, I’m not entirely surprised. He made his intentions clear yesterday, and this… it’s not shocking. Not really.
But hearing it in the daylight, in front of Oscar… it feels even more real, even more scary.
He wants to court me. Me.
Do I want that? Do I want to let him try? Can I let myself believe in him—trust him?
My omega whines, confused and desperate. She wants this. She needs it.
But… I don’t think we deserve it.
I shove her down, drowning the pathetic sound in my throat. This is dangerous. This is… too much.
I feel like this will only make my omega worse, make the attachment to them all that stronger, when, deep down, they don’t really want me.
I’ve never been courted before. I don’t really know what it entails—not really.
Sure, bonding comes at the end of it. Courting is the first stage of the permanent connection we’ll soon share unless they change their minds.
But rather than just giving in to the scent match and claiming me now that I’m pregnant—he’s making a choice.
This isn’t just a duty but an active decision he’s made.
And, fuck, I can’t deny that a part of me really, really wants it.
I want to be treated like I matter. Like I’m worth something.
I shouldn’t want this. I really shouldn’t be allowed to have it.
I think I’d be stupid to say no.
But… how am I meant to say yes ?
I wet my lips, struggling to breathe past the tightness in my chest. “I—why? I mean, I don’t…” My voice cracks, and I hate how pathetic I sound. How weak. “You don’t have to do this, Paxton.”
“I know I don’t have to do anything, Emmeline. But I want to. I’m a traditional alpha, Emmeline, and I won’t ever let you believe you deserve anything less than this,” Paxton says softly. “I choose you.”
The scent of his cinnamon wraps around me like a second skin, the heat of it burning in the best of ways.
My breath shudders, and my heart hammers wildly against my ribs. I don’t know how to respond.
I don’t know what to say.
Paxton exhales through his nose, his eyes dark and unreadable. Then, he reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a small box, no bigger than his palm.
My mouth goes dry.
Please… please don’t let this be what I think it is.
My stomach clenches. Bile rising in my throat.
My eyes sting. My mouth dries.
I’m going to throw up.
He holds it out to me, patiently waiting. “This is for you.”
“I think that’s obvious,” Oscar says dryly, and I can’t help but smile.
My limbs are still shaking with anxiety, but my chest loosens ever so slightly. I can’t move. I can’t reach for it.
But the omega within wants it.
“What… what is it?” My voice is barely above a whisper. I can’t look away from his hypnotising, deep brown eyes; the intensity radiating inside them seems to match how I feel.
“The start of our courtship. A promise to you.” His lips quirk at the corners, but his eyes are steady, unrelenting.
I shiver, my heart racing.
I’m terrified. I’m desperate.
I’m confused.
“I want to do this properly. Traditionally, the first gift is given once you accept the courtship, but I know you. At least a little. I know that you’ll overthink this, that you’ll convince yourself that you don’t deserve it,” he says gently. “You need proof. Something real.”
He nudges the box forward, waiting patiently.
Waiting for me to accept it. Waiting for me to accept him.
My hands shake as I reach for it. My omega whimpers, and, this time, I don’t smother the noise. My fingers brush over the soft velvet of the box as I take it from him.
It feels heavy. Not literally, but the weight of this expectation.
My fingers tremble as I open the clasp. My breath catches, and my heart thuds against my chest.
It’s gold.
Delicate.
Not a ring.
Relief crashes into me so hard I almost laugh.
“Oh, thank fuck,” I gasp.
It’s not a ring.
It’s not a ring!
“Oh, thank fuck,” I repeat, my eyes filling with tears. Tears of joy, of relief, of excitement.
I lift the bracelet out of the box, and I notice the little charm attached. My eyes widen.
“You—”
“I had it made for you last night,” he says, his voice softer now.
Last night?
Rich people.
Fucking hell.
“I saw you. I see you. And I want to support you,” he says, stepping closer to me. “Can I put it on?”
I feel the weight of his question. It’s more than just a simple request. Accepting the bracelet, saying yes… it’s to the courtship, too.
My omega whimpers.
Emotion crashes into me like a tidal wave, and I can feel myself getting pulled into the currents of desire, and hope, and love.
My vision blurs.
“Yes.”
He gently clasps the bracelet around my wrist, and I blink away the tears.
“Dahlias symbolise strength and grace,” he murmurs, brushing his thumb over the charm. “Like you.”
I finger the little dahlia charm and smile. “Thank you.”
“Don’t worry,” Oscar adds, startling me out of the bubble that Paxton and I were in together. “We’ve all got to get you an initial courting gift.”
“Have to?” My brows draw together. I shake my head. “I don’t understand, though.”
“Understand what?” Paxton asks.
“What this has to do with the doctor’s appointment.”
The tension in the room thickens.
Oscar’s knee bounces beneath the table, his grip on his phone visibly tightening. He hasn’t really looked at me since I’ve been in the kitchen, but there’s something about the stony look he’s giving his phone right now that makes me think he’s no longer focused.
He seems frustrated. Angry, even.
I don’t think the frustration is aimed at me, but it’s there, simmering under the surface.
“Because we need to understand the situation,” Paxton continues. “I won’t allow you to suffer when I can help you—when we can help you. I want to court you properly before we bond, but if a bond is what it takes, then that’s what we’ll do.”
Oscar exhales, a sharp and controlled breath. “Evander went into a lot of detail about how you’ve been since… well, since your heat with Uri, and we won’t let that continue.”
My heart stutters, my stomach twisting and clenching. I wrap my arms around myself, swallowing down my omega’s whine.
“Oscar,” Paxton warns.
Oscar looks up. His grey eyes are stormy and dark, filled with a raw, desperate look I can’t place.
“I can’t.” His voice is laced with fury, with panic.
The room stills. The air thickens. And I gape at him in shock.
His hand clenches into a fist against his knee, knuckles white.
“I can’t sit here and do nothing. I won’t. I won’t let any mate of mine be at risk when I know there’s a solution.”
He meets my eyes, and I shiver once more.
“If marking you will mean you’re healthy,” he says sharply, “I’ll bite you here and now.”
Holy fuck.
I look over at Paxton, and, when he gives a minute shake of his head, I try to diffuse the tension. Now isn’t the time to poke or prod. Now isn’t the time to ask.
The bond inside me stirs. My omega reaching for the claim, desperate and needy, but I refuse. I can’t.
“Um, maybe not in the kitchen,” I say, trying to ignore the instincts bubbling up inside. As much as my omega wants that claim, wants him to bite us as he has promised, I know that it wouldn’t be right.
Not when he’s as panicked as he is.
Not when Uri… not when we don’t have a plan.
No, I can’t let that happen. I’m not comfortable with it.
Not even a little.
So, no presenting for us. No bending over.
No biting .
“I want to speak with the doctor about your health and about the ways we can support,” Paxton says. “At the bare minimum, you deserve that from us. But we’re not just the pack dads to your baby, Emmeline—we’re your scent matches, your true mates.”
“I know.” I give him a timid smile. “I’d… I’d like to see the doctor. I can pay?—”
“I pay them more than enough to be on call for me when needed,” Oscar says, shaking his head. “Do you prefer an omega, an alpha, or a beta?”
“You keep all three on staff?” I ask, my eyes wide.
Oscar’s eyes are a dark, stormy grey when he meets my gaze. “I own a hospital, Emme. I don’t fuck around when it comes to our health, and that includes you. If you don’t like the staff, I’ll find someone you do and pay them enough that they’ll move here.”
A hospital?
Not just contacts, like Paxton said, but a literal hospital’s worth of staff.
My stomach tightens, my anxiety growing. This man, this CFO, this alpha… he’s ensured that he and his pack would never need to worry about their health.
That his sister will have the absolute best care he can possibly provide.
What is wrong with her?
I should be unnerved by this, right? By the level of control he seems to have, by the level of oversight. It’s a bit… much.
But it’s also… relieving.
“That’s not… you can’t just throw money at people,” I say.
Although, am I really surprised at this point? Paxton’s luxurious buy for me in such a rapid turnaround, Oscar’s hospital… I wonder what the other two are like.
He scoffs darkly. “Trust me, it works. I work as hard as I do so that I have the money to throw around. So that I can protect us all.”
He pushes his plate forward, and the air seems to grow thicker, warmer.
“What do you prefer?”
“An omega,” I whisper, drawn in by his intensity, by the darkness surrounding him.
It’s fucked up to be attracted to his pain, to his fear.
But I am.
“I’ll get it sorted. Paxton will make you some breakfast.” He bends down and presses a gentle kiss to my forehead, his lips lingering for six beats of my heart before he strides out of the room.
His storm clouds follow.
Paxton sheepishly rubs the back of his neck. “I’m sorry for ambushing you, little treasure. Oscar has some… health anxiety, and whilst he’ll explain it in his own time?—”
“Don’t worry,” I say softly. I move to the stool Oscar just vacated, clinging to the warmth that is still there. “I don’t want you to share his secrets. He’ll tell me in his own time.”
“You’re perfect.”
“And you’re a flirt,” I tease, causing him to laugh. “I know… I know we talked a lot last night, but I wanted to make it clear that you don’t need to court me. That you don’t need to pretend.”
“Pretend what?” He pauses at the stove, raising a brow.
“That I’m a real omega. I know that I’m not what you would’ve expected or would’ve wanted.” I shiver in my spot, his gaze darkening. My mouth moves faster than my brain catches up.
I miss the warning sign.
But now that I’m finally ready to talk, to share… I can’t stop myself.
“I’m too independent. Too much of a thinker. I’ve got ambitions and goals that extend past being in a pack. I don’t need you, not the way that an omega is supposed to need their alphas.”
I wipe my eyes, hoping he doesn’t fall under the spell of my tears.
“I’m not good enough, Paxton. I’m not soft, not gentle, not the kind of omega who will obey without question. And, sure, maybe you’ll all grow to accept that. But what kind of life is that for you? For you all?
“You’ll be stuck living a life with a fake omega—with me. Resentment will grow, hatred will fester, and, eventually… you’ll realise that I’ve ruined your entire life.”
Paxton’s deep brown eyes are practically black, and I don’t have time to move before he strides towards me. My breath catches, and I don’t dare move.
My alpha— this alpha— cages me in on the stool, standing between my legs, his arms resting on either side, so I’m truly trapped by his body. The heat from his chest warms up the chill from my self-loathing.
The spicy cinnamon is a perfect contrast to the sweet vanilla, and my omega can’t resist purring in satisfaction.
“Did we not have this conversation last night, little treasure?” Paxton murmurs, his voice dark and full of heat.
I nod slowly, my throat scratchy when I try to swallow.
“Verbal answers, Omega.” His tone is still full of lust, but there’s a bark to it this time, a command that I can’t ignore even if I wanted to.
Which, I don’t.
My omega craves this connection to them, craves their dominance, their arousal, their care. She needs it.
And, honestly, it feels safer to blame her… but I think I want it even more than she does.
He said he’d remind me every day, and here he is—keeping that promise.
“Yes. We did.” I tilt my head slightly to the left, my hair falling from my neck.
He trails his lips up the bare skin, not quite kissing, but the intent is there.
“You’re everything this pack could want, Emmeline,” he says, his lips right at my ear. I shiver, but he doesn’t back away. “We don’t need an omega who stays home all day. We’re more than capable of caring for our child whilst allowing you to live your life at the same time. I love that you have ambitions, that you want to achieve things.
“You know why? Because I get to help you get them. I get to be the man at your back, the alpha who watches you conquer your hopes and dreams. You’ve proven that you can do all of this on your own, little treasure, but now?
“Now you don’t have to. Now you have me, and Oscar, and Sterling—and, eventually, Uri, when we figure out what’s wrong with him. We’re going to be there with you every step of the way as we make it our duty to help you fulfil every goal you set out to accomplish.
“That’s what I want in life. That’s all I need to be happy.”
My eyes fill with tears, the emotion completely overwhelming me.
“I told you this last night,” Paxton murmurs, his breath warm against my lips. “And I’ll tell you every single day until you believe it.”
His scent flares, and my omega melts into the heat of it. My breath shudders as his fingers brush along my jaw, tilting my face just enough to make sure I have nowhere else to look but at him.
I don’t have time to worry or to panic because, then, he kisses me.
At first touch, his lips are soft, the kiss gentle, as if he’s savouring the moment, waiting for me to push him away. But what he doesn’t realise is that I feel the exact same way.
I won’t push him away.
I can’t.
A whimper slips from my throat, instinct clawing at me, demanding more, demanding everything.
I press closer to him, my fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, and the shift in him is immediate—exactly what my omega wanted.
Paxton growls—low, possessive, primal.
I fucking love it.
His hands tighten at my waist, pulling me from the chair, flush against his body. The solid warmth of his body makes my tummy flutter, and, as I moan once more, my nipples harden, pressing against his chest.
My stomach twists with heat, a fire licking at my skin, making my entire body feel hypersensitive. I gasp when his tongue teases my lips, and, without a protest, I open for him.
The taste of him—rich, intoxicating and undeniably alpha—sends a pulse of need through my veins. I can feel slick pooling in my panties, the sweetness laced with desperation, and it seems to drip down my thighs.
The scent only sends Paxton into a deeper growl, and tingles race up and down my spine. It vibrates against my lips, a promise, a warning— a need .
I want this.
I need this.
I want him more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life.
I moan, a whine escaping my throat, and he answers with another growl.
The moment stretches, lingers, pulses with something deeper than just instinct. And then?—
“Well, well, well,” Sterling calls, his voice laced with something dark and dangerous.
Heat slams into me, embarrassment crashing through the thick haze of desire. I try to pull back, try to scoot away, but Paxton doesn’t pull away immediately.
He gently places me back down on my seat, and he lingers, still caging me in. There’s a grin on his face, his forehead pressing against mine. His deep brown eyes twinkle, and, in the shadowy light, his stubbly beard looks darker.
Sensing his reluctance, I brush my lips against his, soft and gentle, before he pulls away.
“Morning, Sterling,” Paxton says, his voice hoarse and dripping with satisfaction. His scent is still dark, still full of arousal, and I shiver. “Did you get the hospital cleared?”
Sterling hums in the affirmative, and, after brushing a kiss to my forehead, Paxton moves away. My eyes are wide, my breathing still erratic, but both men act like nothing is happening.
I’d believe their nonchalant act if I couldn’t scent the dark tinge to Paxton’s scent or the curious intrigue in Sterling’s.
“Good morning, little storm,” Sterling says, smiling at me. “I know you’re heading to the hospital today with Pax and Oscar, but could we talk once you’re back?”
“Take her out for dinner,” Paxton says, giving me a smile. “If that’s okay with you. I’ve got to head off after your appointment for a meeting with Gibbs and Locke, and Oscar will be travelling down to London to visit Odelia.”
“To London?” I frown. “Didn’t she only just get in town a few days ago?”
“She only stayed two nights,” Paxton says cheerily. “She’s got one last round of… things before she’s done.”
The warning look from Sterling isn’t missed, neither is the pause from Paxton when it comes to revealing the truth.
Sure, the curiosity is burning at me, but, ultimately, it’s none of my business. Odelia deserves her privacy.
“Fair enough.” I give Sterling a hesitant look. “I could pop by your office?—”
“This isn’t a work call, little storm,” he says, shaking his head. “However, if you want to have a sit down Monday morning, we can get that on the table. We can talk through any work expectations?—”
“Hang on, don’t be trying to take my job from me,” Paxton protests. “That’s my job.”
“I think, technically, it’s Uri’s,” I offer, and both men pale, causing me to giggle. “I’m not going to break down at hearing his name.”
“Either way, I would love to take you to dinner tonight. Not for work. Not for causing upset. Just to… talk.”
I blush and nod slowly. “Um, okay. Yes. Okay.”
“Sounds perfect.” Sterling smiles. “Let me know what the doctor says.”
“Are you not wanting to come with us?” I ask hesitantly.
When Paxton and Sterling exchange a look, I can feel the knot in my tummy tighten. Did I say something stupid? Does he not want to come?
“Your alphas are struggling with the implications of their bonds with you and the way this can affect the baby,” Sterling says. “I don’t have that issue since I don’t bond you.”
“No, I just have to bond you ,” I say, shivering at the heat in his eyes.
“And I am eagerly awaiting that day.” He gives me a smile. “I want to know that our baby is healthy. That you are healthy. But I think this is a moment best suited to you and your alphas, little storm.”
I nod, forcing a small smile at Sterling, but my chest feels like it’s caving in.
My alphas.
That’s what they are now, aren’t they? Kind of?
A little bit?
Paxton, so steady and patient, making promises I never thought I’d hear—that I never considered I would deserve to hear.
Oscar, calm and controlled, yet fiercely protective in ways I never expected.
Even Sterling, my beta, with his intensity and unease, has given in, offering something I don’t know how to name.
They’re here. They’re choosing me.
But he isn’t.
The one who should be here the most. The one I need the most—or, at least, the one my baby should need the most.
Uri.
The father of my child. The first of my scent matches. The one who saw me through my heat and showed me how much more they could be.
Only to then shatter me by leaving.
Time and time again.
I exhale slowly, pressing a hand against my stomach. My baby, his baby, growing inside me. A life that shouldn’t exist, and yet, it does.
A life he helped create. A life he’s ignoring.
The ache in my chest is sharp, sharper than I want it to be. I shouldn’t care. I told Evander I was giving him a choice. I reassured myself it wouldn’t matter whatever he decides.
I never once expected Uri to care.
So why the fuck do I let it hurt so badly that I was right?
I should be grateful . I should be focusing on what I have—on the warmth of Paxton’s promise, on the security Oscar so clearly provides, on Sterling’s teasing charm.
But, instead, I feel hollow. Empty. Broken.
Because Uri isn’t here.
Because he left.
And I don’t know if he’s coming back.
A lump rises in my throat, and I swallow against it, fingers clenching at the hem of my dress. I shouldn’t care this much. I shouldn’t let it hurt this much.
But it does.
I feel Paxton’s hand settle over mine, a quiet weight against my lap, grounding me. His warmth seeps into my skin, but it doesn’t fill the emptiness, not fully.
“Hey,” he murmurs, dipping his head so his eyes meet mine. “What’s wrong?”
I shake my head quickly. “Nothing. I’m fine.” I try to muster up a smile. “I’m excited to go to the doctors.”
Oscar scoffs under his breath, not looking up from his phone. “You’re a shit liar, Emme. Your scent gives you away.”
I let out a weak laugh, but I don’t argue.
Because he’s right.
I’m not fine.
But I need to be.
For them.
For me.
For our baby.