Chapter 8
Astrid: Operation Get Camille to the Launch Party is still on track.
Jackson: Which dress did she pick? Was it the pink one? Do you have pics?
Astrid: Not the pink one. God, you’re thirsty for her. Did you really think she’d wear what was practically lingerie to a professional event?
I snort, thinking about the dress I added to the cart on a hopeful, and yes, very thirsty whim. I saw that little slip of a baby pink dress that would hug every ample curve of her body, and couldn’t resist.
Jackson: Can’t blame a guy for trying. Don’t let her return it.
We paid for the dresses, so I don’t feel guilty making the request.
I know I’m getting ahead of myself, and that this plan is as likely to crash and burn as it is to end in the omega that has my heart donning that pink dress for me, but I can’t help it.
We’re finally doing something. The fact that her best friend and her new boss are willing to conspire with us has got to be a good sign.
They would’ve told us to fuck off if they thought we weren’t good for Camille.
Astrid sends a photo to the chat a few moments later, and my heart skips a beat.
Any picture of Camille would make me happy, but goddamn, she’s a knockout in that tight black dress.
Makes me want to kneel at her feet and beg for her attention.
Not that I wasn’t already more than prepared to do that, but it’d certainly be more fun with her in that dress.
Jackson: Wow. I have no words. Dammit, Ambrose is going to be so smug when he finds out she picked the dress he liked.
Astrid: He has good taste.
Astrid: And enough sense not to be blinded by horniness.
I snort at her message. I’d be offended if it actually seemed like Astrid thought I’m only trying to get back with Camille because she’s hot and I miss having sex with her.
Which, I mean I do, but that’s because I miss her, period.
And after an intense conversation, where both Astrid and Lauren interrogated us about our intentions, I know it’s abundantly clear to them how much I fucking love her.
Jackson: You got me there.
Jackson: What time do you plan on getting to the party? Do you think it’d be better for us to be there when you arrive or come in after?
Lauren: Give her time to get settled. She’s meeting some clients for the first time in person, and I’d like her to have the opportunity to make a decent impression before the lot of you swoop in for your grand romantic gesture.
Unlike Astrid, Lauren wasn’t immediately charmed by my goofy enthusiasm or Ambrose’s dedicated sincerity.
I don’t know all the details, but after our pack met with her and Astrid, she talked with River for another three hours to ascertain his intentions.
It’s possible illegal interrogation tactics were employed.
But apparently it was enough to satisfy her, and she’s the one who suggested we use the launch party for her new PR firm as the loving trap we’ve set for our omega.
I’d originally thought of having Camille go to dinner with Astrid and when she got there, she’d find us looking dapper, with candlelight and roses and all the romantic, please take us back vibes we could muster.
But this plan is better because she’s not trapped with us or obligated to talk if she doesn’t want to.
And the law firm I work for now was invited to the event, so it’s not inappropriate for me to be there.
Bringing Ambrose and River as my plus ones is a stretch, but whatever.
The plan is solid, though adding more stress to an event that Camille is already dreading makes me feel guilty.
But everyone agrees that Camille needs to be surprised, so she doesn’t have time to shut herself off from us.
She needs to see how committed we are to getting her back, even if it means the potential of getting publicly rejected by her.
Fuck, I’m nervous again.
Jackson: I really hope she won’t be pissed that we’re there. We can come up with another plan. I just want her to be okay.
Astrid: We shouldn’t wait any longer. She’s not doing well.
She’ll probably kill me when she finds out I did this, but I’m too worried to care.
I may not know much about being an omega or the effects of not being around her pack, but I know Camille.
She won’t stop torturing herself unless we do something to snap her out of it.
Lauren: Agreed. Her omega will respond well to this, and I think that will be enough for her to let her guard down.
She isn’t listening to reason right now, and I get it.
Her omega is hurt and in a constant state of alarm because of the social media nonsense.
But I trust you can pull her out of it, and give her the protection and security she needs to be herself again.
My chest aches as I recall how Camille looked when I showed up on her doorstep, and that’s enough to shake off my worries about our plan going awry.
Jackson: Thank you for trusting us to do this.
Lauren: Of course. But remind River for me I’ll tear his balls off if he fucks this up and upsets her.
Jackson: You’ll have to get in line if he does.
I want to believe that River has changed.
That the work he’s been putting in to sort out his head is enough for him to make things right.
But there’s a part of me that wishes I could harden my heart and factor him out of this equation.
Take his leaving us and previous urging for us to abandon him to pursue Camille at face value.
It’s impossible. He’s woven himself into the very essence of what our pack is. Into who I am. As pissed as I am, I can’t pretend he’s not inextricably tied to me, and if that’s the case for me, I’m sure it’s even more impossible for Ambrose.
River fucked things up, but he’s ours. We aren’t a pack without him, as much as Ambrose and I tried to support each other while he was gone. He’s ours, and Camille is ours, and please god, let this work because I can’t imagine a life that isn’t completely miserable without them.
“He’s late,” I mutter, glancing at the clock on my bedside table. Technically, he has to be here in five minutes, and then he’ll be late, but he should’ve shown up early.
Scowling at my reflection in the mirror, I rip off my tie with a frustrated huff. I can’t get the damn thing right, and this is the tenth time I’ve tried. I’ve had to do this countless times for court, so why won’t this fucking thing cooperate with me when it matters?
I curse as yet again the length is wrong and toss the stupid tie on the floor, earning a disgruntled chuff from Dolly when it lands beside her.
“Everything okay?” Ambrose peeks his head in through the open door. His tie looks pristine and not at all like a child tried to put it on him.
“Where is he?” I huff as I bend down and scoop the tie up off the floor to try again.
Ambrose’s brows pinch together at my frustration. “He’s meeting us there, remember? It made more sense for him to go there from his meeting than come home and then go with us.”
“Fuck, I’m losing my mind,” I groan, reaching up to fist my hair before freezing at the last second so I don’t screw up what I spent way too long in the bathroom making perfect.
Ambrose hesitates for a moment before entering my room, stepping into the space perhaps for the first time since we moved in.
He’s never needed to come in here, because Dolly always goes to him the second he calls.
She’s always a good girl for him and a little stinker for me.
I’m surprised she’s not up out of her bed and begging for him to pick her up right now.
“May I?” Ambrose holds his hand out expectantly, and for a split-second I think he’s trying to hold my hand, but then he glances at the tie balled up in my fist.
I sigh and pass it over to him.
“Don’t know why I can’t get it right. I really hope it’s not an omen. I’m just so fucking nervous that River won’t show up, or Camille will get upset, or I’ll stick my foot in my mouth and fuck everything up. And…”
Ambrose touches my arm, and my babbling ceases. He guides me with a small tug to turn toward him, and gentle concern flows down the bond, tinged with a warm affection that soaks into my skin where his palm rests on my bicep.
“Thanks,” I murmur, allowing him to help calm my mind as he loops the tie around me and sets to work, his movements confident and unhurried.
“No problem. I have a lot of experience helping with this sort of thing.”
My chest squeezes as I meet his deep grey eyes and find a hint of sadness there, but there’s another surge of affection through the bond. I know it’s from memories of River, but a flush rises on my cheeks.
He’s standing close, his tart citrus and herb scent surrounding me and warming my belly like a good cocktail.
Something hot and low pulses inside me. I don’t react fast enough to lock down the bond and hide this strange reaction, and Ambrose cocks a brow at me, a slight smile curving his lips as he pulls the tie through the loop.
“Your scent reminds me of her sometimes, too,” he says, blessedly explaining my response to him.
That must be what it is. The wires in my head got crossed. Not that I’m… nope, definitely not.
I clear my throat and chuckle. “Hah, yeah.”
It doesn’t explain why my stomach clenches as his fingers brush against my shirt as he smooths the tail of the tie down with his palm, double-checking the length.
Thankfully, when he steps back so I can check out his handiwork in the mirror, the weird sensations fade. “Thank you. Sorry I’m such a mess.”
Ambrose shakes his head. “Don’t apologize. I’m pretty damn nervous, too. I can’t control what River or Camille do tonight. I can’t make him show up if he’s still uncertain, and I can’t make her take us back if she’s not ready.”
“Damn, this would be a lot easier if you could.”
Ambrose snorts. “True. All we can do now is show up and hope that the rest falls into place.” He places a hand on my shoulder, and while I wonder why he’s so touchy tonight, I’m glad for it as the steady weight anchors me.
“You’ve done everything you can. You did nothing wrong.
Other than loving two complicated people who needed time to sort out their emotions. ”
I nod, my throat tightening. He’s told me before that what’s happened with River and Camille wasn’t my doing, but the inadequacies I’ve struggled with my entire life made it hard not to believe I could’ve been better or done more to make them feel safe and ready to be a pack.
“Yeah. They’re not as simple as I am.” I mean it as a joke, but Ambrose frowns.
“You’re not simple, Jackson. You wear your heart on your sleeve, and love fiercely. You make the people you care about know without question that you’re there for them.”
Another flush rises to my cheeks at his adamant compliment. “Yeah, but I’m also annoying as hell,” I say, trying to wave it off.
His fingers grip my shoulder tighter. “You’re easy to love, Jackson. If I ever made you feel otherwise, I’m sorry.”
“You love me?” I tease, even as my heartbeat picks up and there’s a strange flutter in my stomach.
Ambrose holds my gaze, and the flutters intensify. “Yes. I wouldn’t have stayed sane the past few months without you. You’re just as much mine as Camille and River are.”
I blink back at him. Struggling against the ridiculous urge to cry or beg him to hold me. “Oh.” I force a cheeky grin onto my face. “Damn, dude. I love you too, but quit trying to make me cry. I don’t want my eyes to be all puffy when we get to the party.”
He rolls his eyes and lets go. “Heaven forbid your eyes are puffy. Mine have permanent bags.”
“I heard Botox can help with that.” I dodge out of the way as he reaches out to pretend to smack me.
Dolly lets out another disgruntled groan, popping out from under her blanket at the scuffle.
I bend down to give her an apologetic pat.
“Sorry for disturbing your beauty rest, your majest—oh shit.” I scramble back as the telltale heaving starts, barely getting out of the way before she gets sick all over the floor.
“Baby, are you okay?” Her response is another expulsion, followed by the world’s most pathetic groan.
Ambrose rushes off to grab some paper towels and cleaning supplies, and I stroke Dolly’s back as she moans again.
By the time Ambrose returns, it’s clear this isn’t a quick moment of random dog puking. “Fuck, I can’t believe this. I need to take her to the emergency vet.” The tears threatening me before make good on their promise, one rolling down my cheek as I clean up the mess.
“It’s okay. She’ll be okay.” I know Ambrose means Dahlia, but it also feels like he’s talking about Camille. “The vet will know what to do, and River and I can handle tonight.”
“Fuck. Okay. Please tell her I’m sorry I’m not there. What if she thinks I care more about my dog than her?”
Ambrose shakes his head. “She won’t. She loves Dolly and would want you to make sure she’s okay. Please text me when you get to the vet. And when you get more info.” He stoops down and strokes her back. “Daddy’s going to get you feeling all better, sweet girl. Don’t worry.”
She gazes up at him with pathetic puppy eyes, and I’m too worried to make a joke about the daddy thing.
“Please be okay,” I whisper as I pick her up, more tears spilling down my cheeks.
Ambrose pulls us against his chest, his arms banding around me. “Everything will be okay. Go take care of your baby, and I’ll go take care of our omega.”