22. Reid
Reid
M onday afternoon, and my hotel room looks like a florist’s fever dream.
Two weeks of official Tuesday arrangements sit accusingly on the nightstand—week one’s roses reduced to skeletal stems, last Tuesday’s chrysanthemums hanging their heads in defeat. But that’s not all. Scattered across every other surface are the flowers I couldn’t resist buying on random visits.
A small bouquet of sunflowers from when I needed “something cheerful for a client presentation,” white lilies I claimed were for “a sympathy arrangement,” purple irises I said were “a thank you to a client.” All of them wilting now, all of them purchased for imaginary reasons because I couldn’t admit I just wanted to keep talking to her.
I’ve spent thousands of dollars on flowers I don’t need for business meetings that don’t exist, all because I couldn’t figure out how to tell Sadie Quinn that I was falling in love with her.
The knock at my door interrupts my self-recrimination. When I open it, Caleb and Levi stand in the hallway, both looking like men with serious business to discuss.
“We need to talk,” Caleb says.
I step aside to let them in, acutely aware of the floral disaster surrounding us. To their credit, neither man comments immediately on the fact that my hotel room looks like a botanical garden that’s seen better days.
“Coffee?” I offer, though what I really want is something stronger.
“I’m good,” Levi says, settling into the room’s single armchair. His eyes take in the dying arrangements with careful curiosity. “Interesting decorating choices.”
The innocent observation makes heat creep up my neck. “Work requirements.”
“Right.” Caleb’s tone suggests he finds my explanation about as convincing as I do. “Look, we’re not here to interrogate your interior design. We’re here because we all want the same thing.”
“Sadie,” I say simply.
“Sadie,” he confirms. “And a life with her that actually makes sense. Which means we need to start making decisions like the pack we’re becoming instead of three guys stumbling around trying not to step on each other. About the house. About us. About what happens next.”
“What house?”
“The cottage on Willow Creek Road,” Caleb explains. “I took Sadie to see it last week. She fell in love with it—talked about all of us living there together, the garden space, the built-in nesting room upstairs.”
My chest tightens with something that might be hope. “She could see all of us there?”
“She could see all of us there,” Levi confirms. “Said it could be perfect.”
“The viewing is scheduled for tomorrow afternoon,” Caleb continues. “Just the three of us—she’s too stressed with festival prep to think about houses right now.”
“Plus there are other buyers interested,” Levi adds. “We need to move fast if we want it.”
My chest tightens with something that might be relief. After weeks of careful maneuvering and polite territorial dancing, we’re finally talking about this directly.
“I want in,” I say without hesitation. “I can cover the full purchase price if needed. Money isn’t an issue.”
“Good,” Caleb says with satisfaction. “We’re all in agreement then.”
“The house has good bones,” Levi adds. “Room to grow. Space for everyone to have what they need.”
“Including a proper nesting room for Sadie,” Caleb adds, and his expression grows soft with memory. “You should have seen how her eyes lit up when she saw it. She could picture our whole future there.”
The way he describes it makes something warm bloom in my chest. Sadie looking at a house and seeing all of us there together, building something permanent and real.
“So we’re doing this,” I say. “All of us, together.”
“We’re doing this,” Caleb confirms. “But we’re keeping it quiet until after the festival. She’s got enough stress right now without us adding house-buying pressure to the mix.”
“Agreed.” Though the thought of waiting to see her reaction when we tell her makes me impatient. “When do we tell her?”
“When the festival’s over and she can actually process what we’re offering,” Levi says. Then he holds up the wilted flower, studying it with the same attention he gives rare books. “Speaking of being honest about what we’re offering... Reid, what exactly is all this?”
He gestures around the room, and I realize there’s no avoiding this conversation anymore.
Heat floods my face. “It’s exactly what it looks like.”
Levi sets down the dead flower carefully. “These are all from Sadie’s shop. Every week for the past few weeks.”
“The business meetings,” Caleb says slowly, understanding dawning in his expression. “There are no business meetings, are there?”
“No.” The admission comes out like a confession. “There are no business meetings.”
The room falls silent. I brace myself for judgment, mockery, the kind of territorial posturing that happens when alphas discover deception in pack dynamics.
Instead, Levi leans back in his chair with something that looks almost like admiration. “You’ve been buying flowers you don’t need just to see her.”
“And keeping them because I couldn’t figure out how to transition from fake business to real feelings without sounding like a complete stalker.” I gesture helplessly at the evidence surrounding us. “I know how this looks.”
“It looks like someone who’s completely gone for our omega,” Caleb says simply. “And doesn’t know how to handle it.”
“You’re not angry?” The question slips out before I can stop it.
“Why would we be angry?” Levi asks. “You found a way to spend time with her that made her happy and supported her business. The method might be unconventional, but the feelings are real.”
“Except now I’m lying to her face every week,” I point out.
Caleb’s expression grows more serious. “That part needs to stop. She deserves honesty from all of us.”
“I know.” The shame sits heavy in my chest. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell her without sounding pathetic.”
“You tell her the truth,” Levi says gently. “That you fell in love and didn’t know how to ask for what you wanted. That the flowers were real even if the meetings weren’t.”
“She might understand better than you think,” Caleb adds. “Sadie’s not exactly conventional herself when it comes to expressing feelings.”
After they leave, promising to call about finalizing the house purchase, I sit among my dying flowers and think about truth and lies and the weight of secrets. Tomorrow I’ll tell her everything. No more fake meetings, no more elaborate deceptions.
Just the truth about a man who fell in love and didn’t know how to say so.
Tuesday morning, nine-thirty AM. I usually pick up this week’s arrangement at seven-thirty, but I can’t bring myself to leave the hotel room.
The conversation with Caleb and Levi yesterday changed everything. Seeing my deception through their eyes made it clear how unsustainable this has become. I can’t keep buying flowers for imaginary meetings. I can’t keep lying to the woman I love.
I’m getting dressed to go confess everything when someone knocks at the door. Hotel housekeeping doesn’t start this early, and I’m not expecting any deliveries. When I open it, my heart stops.
Sadie stands in the hallway holding today’s arrangement—burgundy dahlias and bronze chrysanthemums that perfectly capture autumn’s richness.
She’s wearing jeans and a soft blue sweater, her honey-blonde hair pulled back in a messy bun.
She looks beautiful and concerned and completely unprepared for what she’s about to discover.
“Reid?” Her brow furrows with worry. “You usually pick up your Tuesday arrangement by now. When you didn’t show up, I thought maybe something was wrong.”
Panic floods my system. She’s here. At my hotel room. Full of evidence of my elaborate deception.
“Sadie, I—” I step partially into the hallway, trying to block her view inside. “You didn’t need to come all the way out here. I was just about to head into town.”
“Are you sick? You look pale.” She tries to peer around me, genuine concern in her voice. “I brought your arrangement, but if you’re not feeling well?—”
That’s when the wind shifts, carrying the scent from my room into the hallway. Her nostrils flare slightly, and I watch confusion cross her features.
“Do you smell that?” she asks, then understanding dawns. “Reid, why does your room smell like old flowers?”
My heart pounds as I realize there’s no way to explain this without her seeing everything. “Sadie, I can explain?—”
But she’s already pushing past me, her omega curiosity overriding politeness. The moment she steps into my room, she freezes.
I watch her take in the full scope of my floral graveyard.
Arrangements from every week we’ve known each other, in various stages of decay.
Some still recognizable, others reduced to brown stalks and scattered petals.
The room that should smell like bergamot and cedar instead reeks of decomposition and desperation.
“Oh my god.” Her voice is barely a whisper. “Reid, what is this?”
I close the door behind us, my throat tight with shame. “It’s exactly what it looks like.”
She moves deeper into the room like she’s walking through a museum of her own work. Picks up a wilted stem from the first arrangement I ever bought, turns it over in her hands like she can’t quite believe what she’s seeing.
“These are all from my shop.” It’s not a question. “Every week. For almost a month.”
“Yes.”
“But the business meetings—” She turns to face me, and I can see her mind working, piecing together the truth. “There are no business meetings, are there?”
The moment of truth. The confession I’ve been dreading and planning in equal measure. “No. There are no business meetings.”
She sets down the dead flower carefully, like it might break. “Then why?”
I run a hand through my hair, feeling like the worst kind of fool. “Because I saw you through your shop window one morning and couldn’t stop thinking about you. Because I wanted reasons to see you, to talk to you, to be part of your world even in some small way.”