Chapter 17
SEVENTEEN
FOUR DAYS UNTIL CHRISTMAS
My conversation with Gabriel plays on repeat in my head as I fill the hopper with dark roasted coffee beans.
I’ve spent my entire adult life knowing that I loved Felix, that I wanted to be with him, and I haven’t given myself the chance to think about any other options. I’ve hardly gone on dates. Sure, I’ve found people to scratch the itch with, but it’s always been meaningless.
Never once did I imagine settling down with anyone but Felix.
Except it’s not always just us.
I’ve imagined a faceless Alpha beside us.
I never wanted to keep Felix to myself. I know he deserves an Alpha, too.
So some of my fantasies include a masculine, Alpha-shaped blur.
Sometimes it’s only the back of his head, as I watch him slide up behind Felix as he’s cooking to wrap his arms around our Omega’s trim waist.
It’s hard not to superimpose Gabriel’s image onto that fantasy.
The three of us cuddled up on the couch, fuzzy socks on and hot chocolates in our hands as we watch Christmas movies.
Felix and Gabriel showing up at the coffee shop to see me while on their lunch break.
Conspiring with Felix to hide all of Gabriel’s left shoes.
Gabriel picking Felix up and throwing him over his shoulder, running him to the nest when he starts to cramp from heat.
Me sucking Felix’s cock as he takes a knot.
Gabriel’s hands all over my body as I ride Felix.
“Clara!” Felipe’s voice rouses me out of my increasingly more perverted daydreams. “Sylvia said you’re done for the day.”
Thank God. I can’t focus on my job, and I still need to get Felix a Christmas present. I haven’t found the perfect thing.
Should I get something for Gabriel, too?
Maybe.
I pull my coat off the hook in the backroom and loop my scarf around my neck. Okay, it’s not my scarf. It’s Felix’s. I’ve never stolen anything of his before, but this one called to me. I was hopeless to resist wrapping myself up in it when I saw it hanging on the back of the couch this morning.
He’ll understand. He probably won’t even notice.
When Hazel meets up with me an hour later, I’m itching for someone to talk to about everything. I worry that saying it out loud to her will make it real, but there is no unringing this bell.
Gabriel Hernandez is my scent match, and I won’t be able to hide from it for much longer.
“You look like a wreck.”
Those words hit especially hard when Hazel wears a full face of makeup, a tight sweater dress, tights, and ankle boots, with a chic headband holding back her blonde hair.
“Anyone would look like a wreck next to you,” I say dismissively, though internally I’m cringing, knowing just how bad I look next to her in my ugly ass Christmas sweater.
“Maybe, but you’ve got bags under your eyes that look like they’re packed and ready to head to Europe for a vacation.”
She waves off a salesperson trying to catch her attention with his decorative wind chimes. “Plus, this is the second time in three days you’ve invited me to go shopping together. Something is up.”
We stop at a stall selling mulled cider, and I buy her a mug, trying to keep my hands and mouth busy for as long as possible. But I can’t put it off forever, so I have no choice but to tell her the truth.
“I met my scent match.”
She stops in her tracks, her hand going to my chest like a mom who just slammed on her brakes in the car. “You met your scent match and you’re just now telling me?” Her voice’s pain twists my stomach with guilt.
“It only happened two days ago. At the CHC party.” I gesture for her to follow me off to the side, sitting down on a bench. “It’s Gabriel Hernandez.”
“Oh, holy shit,” she swears. “That’s great, isn’t it?” Hazel crosses her legs and levels me with a no-nonsense expression. “You need to tell me exactly why your face looks like that revelation is the end of the world.”
“Felix has feelings for Gabriel.”
She stares at me and doesn’t say anything. Neither do I. There is nothing more to say. Eventually, she loses the game of chicken and groans.
“And? Gabriel isn’t into Felix? Because I don’t think that’s true, if what Mitch has said is any indication.”
I spin the warm cup between my hands. “No, Gabriel is into Felix. Which is why I have to step back. Omegas need Alphas, not Betas.”
“I have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about,” Hazel snaps at me, suddenly more terse with me than ever before. “I know you’re not telling me that your Alpha is into your Omega, and your Omega is into your Alpha, and somehow this is a bad thing?”
“He’s not my Omega!” I say that too loudly, and a couple of tourists look over at me. “He’s not my Omega,” I repeat quieter. “We slept together, Hazel, and he told me it didn’t have to mean anything. That’s crystal fucking clear.”
For a moment, I think Hazel is going to scream at me. Or storm off.
Or do anything other than what she actually does.
She laughs.
A massive belly laugh, where she clutches her stomach and bends in half.
“Oh, Clara. You fucking idiot.”