Chapter 8
EIGHT
EIGHT DAYS UNTIL CHRISTMAS
I love Christmas. The lights, the snow, the food. And I especially love Christmas shopping.
I’m not ashamed to admit that I love receiving gifts.
What Omega doesn’t? There’s just something about knowing that someone thought of me enough to go out of their way and pick a gift out for me that makes me feel special.
It doesn’t even matter what the gift is.
Knowing that they thought about me is enough.
But the presents I buy have to be perfect. They need to be tailored to each person, personalized to show them just how much they mean to me.
I still have time to shop for my parents. They went to Aspen this year for the holiday, so I’ll be able to shop the after Christmas sales. They invited me and offered to cover the cost as a gift, but I couldn’t accept.
The idea of leaving Clara alone was enough to make me whine. There is no way I would’ve enjoyed the trip.
The hardest thing is figuring out what to get Clara. How do I say, “I want to be more than friends, but I know it’s not possible because what if our scents aren’t compatible, and you hate how I smell, and then I get my heart broken when you don’t want to be with me?” with a gift?
Somehow, that doesn’t feel like something that a sweater can communicate.
I could find someone who embroiders…
No, that’s ridiculous.
But is it?
I’m wandering through the stalls in the holiday market, stopping at any booth that catches my eye, when I bump shoulders with someone and go tumbling to the ground.
“Shit!” a familiar voice says, rushing to help me to my feet. “I’m so sorry.”
This is the second time I’ve hit the ground for Gabriel in two days. That has to be a record.
I push to my feet and turn around to face Gabriel, who looks like he’s going to crawl out of his skin, he’s that uncomfortable. “Felix. I … I’m sorry. I didn’t see you.”
“It’s fine,” I say stiffly. I’m trying not to look at the bags he has in his hands and wonder who he’s shopping for. Jealousy that I shouldn’t have curls in my stomach.
He’s my boss. He’s my boss. I can’t go there with him, even if he wanted to.
Which I doubt he does.
“Could I get you a coffee or something? Make it up to you?” he asks, looking around and pointing when his eyes land on Brew-tiful Days.
I wish I could say yes. I want to say yes.
But I don’t think I can spend any one-on-one time with Gabriel Hernandez.
If I do, I may cave and tell him I have a crush on him, which would make things awkward at work.
He may also notice that the scarf I am wearing today looks exactly like the one he lost yesterday.
It’s soft, expensive, and felt like a hug the first time I wrapped it around my neck. I can almost imagine the weight of his arms around me as he leans in and kisses me tenderly.
Which is why I tell him I can’t get a coffee with him.
I must be imagining things, because it looks like his face falls at my rejection. “That’s okay. I’ll see you tomorrow at work, right?”
“Sure thing,” I say dismissively, hoping I come off cool and aloof and not rude. I have to force myself to walk past him and continue my shopping. I can feel the weight of his stare on my back.
I have to get over this crush, or I will have to leave CHC. This is untenable. I spend all day pining after my boss and all evening pining after my roommate.
I should change my name to Felix Pine.
Something shiny flashing in the sun caught my attention, and I beeline for it, like a magpie. The locket that caught my attention is beautiful and vintage. A lily of the valley cameo, carved from opal, is set on a gold filigree oval with a delicate golden chain.
“It’s vintage,” the man sitting on a stool beside the cart says, confirming my thoughts. “There isn’t a ton of room inside, but I’ve seen people put messages in similarly sized ones on little scraps of paper.”
“Does it have a meaning?” I ask, tempted to pull out my phone and search, but I don’t want to be rude.
The older Alpha makes a humming noise and pushes up from his stool to stand next to me. “Lily of the valley can represent joy and happiness. Opal is October’s birthstone and is commonly associated with faithfulness. Both of them are tied to purity, as well.”
Clara’s birthday is in October. That’s fate, right?
“In my mind,” he continues, voice growing wistful, “it represents the pure joy of finding someone you love. It was my grandmother’s.”
I drop the piece, letting it fall back in its silk bed. “Why are you selling it?”
“She would want it to go to someone who is going to cherish it. The woman was a romantic if there ever was one. I’ll never wear it, and I don’t have anyone in my life who would either. I promised myself that I would only sell it to someone who wants it for the right reasons.”
My chest tightens a little. I love the piece, and I think it would be perfect for Clara. I can almost see it hanging in the hollow of her throat, catching the light as she laughs.
“Who are you shopping for?” he asks gently. “Someone special?” I nod mutely, and he picks up the box, holding it out to me. “Tell me about them.”
I take the box from his hands, unable to take my eyes off the beautiful piece. “Her name is Clara. She’s my best friend, and I love her. But I don’t want to ruin our friendship if she doesn’t feel the same.”
“And if she feels the same?”
“Then I would never let her go.”
He nods and reaches over, closing the box. “Then you should get it for her.”
“I don’t even know what I’d put in a locket.” Why am I trying to talk myself out of this? It’s perfect for her.
He pulls a small golden bag and black tissue paper from under his stand. “Why not tell her how you feel?”
“Because what if she doesn’t want me like that?” I hand him the box, and in return, he passes me a small slip of paper. “There’s no way she’d be comfortable being my friend once I let that cat out of the bag if she doesn’t feel the same. I could ruin a decade-long friendship.”
“You’ll never know unless you try. Maybe your Christmas wish will come true. I think that even if she doesn’t feel that way about you, if she’s truly your best friend, you won’t lose her.”
I look down at the slip of paper he handed me. “What’s this?”
“You don’t have much space, but tell her how you feel. Just a few words. I’ll seal it up in the locket, and when you’re ready, all she has to do is open it and she’ll know everything she needs to.”
It takes a minute to distill my feelings for her into a few words.
But they hit me like a lightning bolt, and I scribble them down before giving the paper back to the shopkeeper.
He opens the locket and carefully folds the paper, placing it inside the piece.
He packages the box in black tissue paper and puts it in the gold bag.
I don’t know if I’ll ever tell her to open the locket and read what I’ve written. For the longest time, I’ve only seen two outcomes of admitting my feelings to Clara.
She returns my affections, and we live happily ever after together, or she rebukes me, leaving me heartbroken.
What if the shopkeeper is right, though? What if there is a third option, and I tell her how she makes me feel, and even though she doesn’t feel the same way, I can still keep her in my life?
Could I handle that? Would I be able to stand by as her friend as her life moves on without me?
I hand him my credit card and collect the bag, knowing the truth without even having to think.
Whatever capacity Clara wants me in, I’ll be there.
Sylvia, the older Beta woman who owns the local coffee shop, waves at me as I walk in. She’s lived here for about a year now, and we love having her around. CHC did the remodel on the shop, and it seems like it’s always busy in here now.
Luckily, it’s a quiet time of the day, right at dinner time, and I know Clara is off today. I don’t think I could talk to her while holding her gift in my hand.
“Come for a restock?” Sylvia asks, leaning on the counter.
I buy a bag of blonde roast every few weeks like clockwork. I’m a creature of habit, and though I drink the pod coffee at the office, a cup of French press is the only way to start my day.
“Please!” I say, pulling out my wallet. “Have you been busy?”
She snags a bag from the shelf and carries it to the register. “Quite. I like it when it’s like this. It makes the day go by fast.” Her gaze lingers on the bag in my hand. “Got a gift for someone special?”
The blush that colors my cheeks must give me away, because she laughs. I hand her my credit card, avoiding eye contact the best I can. “Yeah, you could say that.”
“I had an Omega,” she says out of nowhere. “It feels like it’s been years since I lost him.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry for your loss.” I can’t imagine what it must have been like to lose a bonded. I’ve heard it’s the most painful thing in the world.
“We were scent matches. People don’t talk about Beta and Omega scent matches enough, you know?
It’s not exactly something they write romance novels about.
They exist, but they rarely seek each other out.
There is so much focus on Alpha and Omega matches that Betas don’t bother putting themselves out there.
I know this woman, Alex, who worked for me for a little.
She had a bonded Beta scent match. He was also scent matched to an Alpha.
Do you know that if a Beta matches with an Omega, they will match the same Alpha? ”
I try to take my credit card and the bag of coffee beans from her, but she doesn’t let go.
“The best gift my Omega ever gave me was himself. I felt drawn to him when we met, but he was taking suppressants. Through everything, we always found our way back to one another, like magnets. Suppressants may prevent you from detecting pheromones, but your body still knows. Alex experienced the same thing. She was drawn to her Beta and Alphas from the moment she met them, even though she was on the strongest suppressants I’ve ever heard of. ”
“Okay…” I try to yank my card from her hand, but she holds tight.
“I’m sure that whatever is in that bag is wonderful. I imagine it’s an incredibly thoughtful, beautiful gift. But sometimes, the best gift you can give someone is yourself. Just remember that.”