39. Emmeline
39
Emmeline
“ H
ow are you feeling?” Sterling asks, rubbing the back of my hand with his thumb.
I shiver as my scent grows acidic. Of course my body wants to betray me right now, and tell him exactly how I’m feeling despite my brave face.
Asshole that it is.
I grimace, and he gives me a knowing look, as I admit the truth.
“Nervous.”
“I can tell you not to be until I’m blue in the face, but I know that won’t help you,” my beta mate says softly. “What I will say is that Odelia is going to be just as nervous to meet you.”
“Really?” I ask, my grip tightening on his large hand.
Sterling nods. “She will be. For their entire life, Odelia has been Oscar’s first priority. But now… he has you, and our baby.”
“She doesn’t know about the baby, though, right?” I murmur, hanging my head low.
This is what has me so nervous about meeting her. It’s not the fact that I’m meeting Oscar’s only sibling, or the person he adores most in this world, but the fact that she’s struggled with her health for so long… and I barely had to do a thing.
She’s infertile, on top of all her other health issues, and here I am about to parade my pregnancy in front of her during our very first meeting.
I feel awful, and I have no idea how she’s going to react, or how badly I’m going to upset her. I just know that it’s likely.
But Oscar makes a fair point. Everyone else knows about the pregnancy, and now that we’re officially in the second trimester, he wants to share this with his sister.
I can’t begrudge him that—not when Evander knew before any of them did. He’s as close to her as I am to my twin, and that’s scary.
She is scary.
“She doesn’t,” Sterling says, rubbing my hand with his thumb. “Oscar believes that she needs to know in person.”
“Like this?” I didn’t mean to whine, not really, but my scent spikes, and it’s clear to everyone how anxious I am. Sterling pulls me into his side, but no amount of soothing touch is going to calm me down.
“Yes, like this,” Oscar says, firmly. I spin around, nearly losing my balance, and both my alpha and my beta react instantly. One with a growl, and the other with a huff, as they each reach out to steady me.
Sterling shakes his head, the moment I’m balanced. “You’re trouble, little storm.”
Such a dry tone, to match the accusatory look in his eyes.
“Sorry,” I offer, stifling a grin.
Even when grouchy, I can smell the love he has for me in his scent. Strong, sweet, and all mine.
“Don’t be sorry,” he says, brushing a kiss against my temple. “I’ll leave the two of you to talk.” He squeezes me gently, before striding past, but he stops in front of Oscar. “Be nice. Monitor your tone. I mean it.”
Oscar nods, his face not changing.
“Don’t lecture him,” I call, and Sterling just waves me off over his shoulder, not bothering to turn around. I grumble. “He’s such an asshole sometimes.”
Oscar smirks. “By my estimations he’s an asshole eight-nine percent of the time.”
“Maybe a little less than that,” I say, with a laugh. But as Oscar’s expression smooths out, so does my own. “I’m really nervous.”
“Anxiety is such an intriguing emotion,” Oscar offers.
Frustration bubbles in my chest, but I have to breathe past it, rather than reacting. I know he doesn’t mean to annoy me, or to deflect, but goodness, I just want to cry a little and have him offer me some reassurance.
Is that too much to ask for?
“I don’t know if I feel comfortable coming with you all to meet Odelia,” I say softly.
Oscar frowns. “Why not?”
“Because I’m pregnant, and she’s unwell…” I trail off, as his eyes narrow.
“This is the best way to tell her.”
I wring my hands together, as my chest tightens. I hate the way the cold sweats make me feel, and how dry my mouth goes.
But more than that, I absolutely hate how such small situations set me into a state of life and death.
Oscar steps closer, his expression unreadable, but the twitch in his jaw gives him away. His hands hover for a moment before settling on my arms, grounding and steady.
“It’s not life or death, Emmeline. It’s just… life,” he says quietly, but his tone is gentler now. I blink up at him, completely shocked that he knew exactly what I was thinking.
There’s such a soft, tender edge to his voice. It’s exactly what I need right now.
“I don’t want to hurt her,” I whisper. “I don’t want her to look at me and feel like everything she’s ever wanted is something I just… got. Like I didn’t earn it. Like I don’t deserve it.”
His frown deepens. “You do deserve it. You and this baby are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. To us.”
“But she doesn’t know me.” I try to explain it, try to make him understand, but he doesn’t seem to. “She doesn’t know who I am to you. She doesn’t know I would never, ever flaunt this to mock her, or make her feel inadequate, or… I don’t know. You’ve talked so much about your sister, about how much she means to you, and I just don’t want to hurt her.”
Oscar doesn’t respond right away. His eyes close for a beat too long, and when he opens them again, I see it—that flash of guilt and fear he always hides so well.
“She’ll see you, and she’ll understand. You’re not some stranger barging into her life. You’re part of it now. Whether she expected that or not.”
“But what if she hates me?”
He finally pulls me in, arms wrapping around my shoulders and pressing me against his chest. I breathe him in—neutraliser clinging faintly to his skin, but beneath it, his scent still bleeds through. Sharp. Rich. Mine.
“She won’t,” he murmurs against my hair. “She’s going to love you.” He shrugs. “And even if she doesn’t want to, she has no choice.”
“Because of the baby?” I ask, hating how fragile I sound.
“No,” he says, pulling back to meet my gaze. “Because of you .”
My chest cracks open, tears stinging behind my eyes. I grip the front of his shirt, trying not to fall apart.
“I don’t know if I can do this.”
“Yes, you can,” he says, brushing a knuckle along my cheek. “You’ve done harder things than this. You’ve faced worse.”
“That doesn’t make this easier.”
“No,” he agrees. “But it means you’ll survive it.”
I want to argue, but the door creaks open behind us, and Paxton’s head pokes in. “Time to go.”
I freeze, staring at him, as my entire body seems to tremble.
Oscar takes my hand. “One step at a time, okay?”
I nod, but my throat is too tight to speak. He squeezes my fingers as we walk out together—me, waddling slightly, thanks to nerves and the tiny weight I now carry in my belly, and him, striding beside me with his head in the clouds.
Or whatever mental spreadsheet he’s already committed to memory.
The car ride is quiet. I sit between Paxton and Oscar in the back, their hands on my thighs, as they both work on their phones. Uri’s in the front seat, with Sterling driving.
When we pull up to Odelia’s home, I’m awed at the size of the estate.
“Pax owns it,” Oscar says, when I continue to stare.
“ I don’t,” my mate says, shaking his head. “It’s just one of the family homes in this part of the country. “But it’s safe, secure, and has one of the Carter teams stationed here should Odelia ever need anything.”
“One of the Carter teams?” I ask, eyeing up my beta mate.
Sterling nods. “I told you. My family are all in private security. We’ve held a contract with the Sinclair’s for over a century.”
“Right. Old families. Old money. I remember.”
“She’s waiting in the conservatory,” Oscar says.
I nod, clutching at Oscar’s hand. My knees wobble. My scent is a mess of acid and static and fear, and I know they can smell it.
“If it helps, little dove, I’m the only one who doesn’t come from such luxurious funds,” he says, waggling his brows. “Not only did I find myself a pack full of sugar-men, I’ve got a sugar-omega to join us.”
I giggle, and let Oscar tug me forward as they continue their teasing.
We walk in silence through the wide hallway, the click of Uri’s expensive shoes clicking on the hardwood flooring.
The house smells like polished wood and faint citrus, a sterile scent that makes me feel uneasy.
Oscar stops in front of a set of double glass doors and glances over his shoulder. “She’s in there.”
I nod, swallowing hard.
Paxton opens the door.
The conservatory is bathed in soft afternoon light.
The high, arched glass ceiling warms the space like a greenhouse. Potted plants line the edges—ferns, orchids, and climbing ivy that trails up steel supports.
There’s a faint floral note in the air, sweet and earthy, but not overwhelming.
It blends gently with the sharp almond and nutmeg of Oscar’s scent as he takes a deep breath beside me.
The room is cozy, despite the size. Wicker furniture with thick cushions surrounds a low table set with a steaming pot of tea and six delicate porcelain cups.
Everything is symmetrical. Beautiful.
“Oh, you’ve added a new plant,” Oscar says, deserting me immediately.
My eyes are drawn to the omega sat on the chaise near the far end. She’s tucked into the light like a painting brought to life.
She’s gorgeous. Ethereal, even.
She’s seated on a chaise near the far end, tucked into the light like a painting brought to life.
Odelia Remington.
She’s much smaller than I expected. A few inches shorter than me.
She’s very lean too. Her sharp, angular features match Oscar’s so precisely it’s eerie, but where he’s all crisp lines and subtle detachment, she feels… serene.
Her dark brown hair falls in a smooth curtain down her back, parted cleanly in the centre, and her tanned skin glows against the soft ivory of her blouse.
Silver hoops glint in both ears, and she’s genuinely the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.
If she’s not a model, she should be one. I can already imagine the campaigns I could use her for.
I’m pinned by the exact same grey eyes I’ve seen hundreds of times across a conference table—but here, they don’t look distant.
They look warm and full of life.
“Emmeline, meet Odelia,” Paxton introduces. “Lia, this is our scent match, Emme.”
She beams at me, and it transforms her face. No longer just beautiful—she’s now striking, perfect, gorgeous.
I’ve always found Oscar attractive, but goodness me, Odelia makes him look like the ugly duckling twin.
“It’s so lovely to meet you,” she exclaims, and her voice is dripping with sweetness.
She side-steps Paxton, avoids Uri’s hulking form, and wraps her arms around me.
Her head reaches my shoulders, and I immediately wrap my arms around her.
Her scent curls in the air like cotton blossom and warm milk, sweetened with vanilla cream—soft, pure, and impossibly soothing.
“It’s so nice to meet you,” she exclaims, pulling back, but keeping tight hold of me.
I grin at her, immediately at ease. Where I don’t know how to be an omega, not really—she does.
She instinctively soothes me into a calm state, using touch and scent in the right ways. She’s… everything.
“I’m so grateful that you helped Oscar shop for me,” she says. “Honestly, I accused him of making his assistant buy them, until he admitted he went with you.”
I laugh. “He was already picking one out before I assisted.”
“Come sit, I want to learn all about you,” she commands, leading me over to the sofa. She’s so touchy, so bubbly.
I immediately love her.
All the panic, all my concern—gone.
She’s graceful as she pours us all tea, and I wonder what kind of etiquette training she has. She sits poised and perfect, not a single slip.
Grace like this comes from a lifetime of practice.
Which confuses me, because I thought she was sick and spent most of her life in and out of hospital?
I sip my tea, and she asks so many questions about how we met, what I do for work, what it’s like working with the guys.
They’re all quiet, letting us bond. Oscar’s not yet moved away from the plants, which is intriguing, since I genuinely had no idea he cared.
Every so often though, I see her nose twitch, and I know that she knows.
Her knowing look makes it clear she knows, that I know, that she knows.
We’re sharing this little secret, just she and I, and I have no idea what her plan to break it is.
If there is one .
When there’s a lull in the conversation, she leans back on the cushions and tilts her head at me—so soft, so certain—and she winks.
“So, brother, are you going to join us, or are you going to continue to scrutinise plants that you try to kill every time you’re here?” Odelia asks.
There’s a sharpness in her tone, one that startles me slightly. There’s some bark in this woman.
I love it.
“I don’t murder your plants,” he protests. “Ignore her, Emme. She lies.”
“You’re ignorant,” Odelia says, rising to her feet.
Oscar sighs and moves towards her. “What do you want to talk about?”
“You’re having a baby?” Odelia asks, glancing at me before looking her brother in the eyes.
My heart clenches, and I know that this is it.
The moment I’ll have ruined his life—his relationship with his sister—all for my own selfish gain.
Fuck, I’m going to be sick.
“I’m having a baby,” Oscar repeats.
Odelia bursts into tears, her scent suffocating the room. It doesn’t sour like I expected. It doesn’t even deepen. No, her scent seems to sweeten, as if she’s genuinely happy about the news.
Oscar moves quickly, immediately wrapping his sister into his arms. His expression is bland, and his scent doesn’t waver. I don’t understand what’s happening right now, and I wish that I did.
Is she upset?
Angry?
Is she actually happy? Excited?
I don’t know.
“I’m so so happy for you,” she says, pulling back from the hug. She fans her face, redness already blotching her pale skin, as tears continue to trail down her cheeks.
She smiles at me, batting Oscar’s hand away.
“I’m so sorry. I’m not usually so emotional.” She then pauses, and shakes her head. “Okay, I am, but still. I’m so sorry that this is how we met.”
“You’re sorry?” I gasp, reaching for her offered hand, and immediately shake my head. “ I’m the one who is sorry. I didn’t want to drop in like this, or?—”
“Oscar’s got you terrified about me, hasn’t he?” she says, with a fond head shake. “I swear, the only person who is more concerned about how sensitive I am than me—is him.”
I giggle. I don’t relax, not fully, but I already feel a connection with Odelia.
“If it helps, I’m also extremely sensitive these days. We’re matching at least,” I offer.
She laughs, grinning at me with such genuine warmth. Her grey eyes twinkle in the light. “So, am I having my first niece or my first nephew?”
I smile. “We don’t know yet. We’ve decided to keep it as a surprise.”
“Oh my gosh, that’s amazing. A gender-neutral mood board coming right up,” she says, patting my hand, her joy contagious. “I’m going to have so much fun helping my favourite sister-in-law do the nursery.”
Favourite?
Helping?
I want to squeal with happiness right now. Instead, I mock-grimace, teasing, “Oh no.”
“Oh yes.” Her beam is so bright. “I’m talking theme colour palettes. Nursery furniture inspiration. I’m so excited to finally have another omega in the family.”
I laugh, warmth blooming in my chest. “We don’t even know if they’ll be an omega.”
She stares at me, waiting for a beat, before shaking her head. “I didn’t mean the baby, Emme—I meant you .”
I blink back tears, and reach out to squeeze her hands.
“Now, can I help start brainstorming baby names?”
Oscar groans dramatically from his corner. “Don’t encourage her. She alphabetised her last hospital stay.”
“That’s called efficiency,” Odelia snaps, then softens immediately when she looks back at me. “Ignore him. He thinks if something isn’t in a spreadsheet, it isn’t real.”
They bicker in that easy, lifelong rhythm, but it only lasts a few more seconds before a subtle shift in her scent draws my attention.
I can’t describe it. It’s not that it sours, not at all. But there’s something behind her eyes now. Something she’s holding back.
Oscar notices too.
He straightens in the armchair, knees spread, hands steepled in front of him. His expression turns unreadable. “Are you in pain?”
Odelia’s smile is tense, but perfect. “I’m fine, Oscar. We’re talking about the baby—not me.”
“Have you signed the paperwork yet, for the trial?” he demands.
I reach for Paxton’s hand, an uncomfortable feeling pressing in on me. We shouldn’t be here for this.
It’s not our fight to witness.
The question lands heavy in the air. Paxton subtly stiffens beside me. Uri finally looks up from his phone.
Odelia draws in a slow breath, then sets her teacup down.
“I haven’t,” she says, her voice still gentle. “I’m not doing it.”
Oscar doesn’t move, but his eyes narrow into slits. His scent burns with fury.
“You’re what?”
“I’m not doing it, Oscar,” she repeats, folding her hands primly in her lap. “I’ve made my decision.”
“You said you would think about it and talk with your doctors,” he replies, voice tight.
“I did,” she says, evenly. “And this is me telling you the result of that thinking.”
His jaw ticks. His scent is raging free and I know that look on his face. I’ve seen him shut down like this before—when he’s losing control of something that matters .
He’s struggling. His anxiety will be back full force right now.
And it breaks my heart.
“This one’s different,” he says, voice low. “This trial is showing results. It’s not like the last one.”
“ They all show results, Oscar,” she snaps, and the softness in her scent frays, just a little. “Until they don’t. Until I’m puking up blood and needing steroids and missing another year of my life trying to be a medical miracle for you .”
His knuckles go white, and he growls. “This isn’t about me.”
I clutch tightly at Paxton’s hand, wishing like hell that we could leave. That we could let the twins have this discussion in private—that Odelia could have her privacy.
“It’s always about you,” she whispers, and there’s no heat in it—just exhaustion. She dabs at her eyes, and I see how much her hand shakes. “I’m tired, Oscar. I’m tired of hurting and hoping and losing pieces of myself for a chance that never comes. I’d rather live my life, than continue fighting for a cure that just doesn’t exist.”
He rises slowly, stiffly, and angrily. “We’re leaving.”
I blink up at him. “Wait—what?”
“We’ve intruded enough,” he says, eyes still locked on his sister. “Thank you for the tea, Lia.”
She stands too. “Of course. I’m always happy to see you.”
There’s a beat where the world stills. Then they both step forward and lean close—foreheads nearly touching.
They whisper. I can’t hear a single word.
Whatever they’re saying, it’s sharp and quiet and tense enough that I have to bite back my whimper. It’s uncomfortable. We’re all uneasy. Uri, Sterling, Paxton and I all exchange nervous looks, but nobody speaks.
We don’t dare.
Eventually, Oscar pulls back, blank-faced again, and turns to us. “She’s agreed to the trial. We’re leaving now.”
I glance at Odelia, but her expression doesn’t match his words. Not even a little. She’s smiling, but it’s hollow. Empty.
When she walks us to the door, her arm linked with mine and her tone light, I almost believe him.
Almost.
But when we step outside and I glance back through the glass, I see her.
Standing at the edge of the conservatory.
Wiping tears from her eyes.
I was so afraid that I’d hurt her… but I don’t think I did. I think Oscar has. My heart cracks, and I know without a doubt, that this isn’t over.
Not even a little bit.