Fifty-Seven
FIFTY-SEVEN
Nat
TWO WEEKS INTO MY NEW arrangement with Mia’s pack, my entire body ached—and it might just have been the best thing I’d ever felt in my life. It was certainly the first time in my life that I’d had all the sex I could ever want, free for the asking.
I’d had my face fucked. I’d had my ass fucked. I’d been tied to Byron’s bedframe by the wrists and ankles while Luca and Mia took turns riding me.
I’d gained a friend in Emiel and a guardian in Zalen, who seemed to think that my emotional wellbeing—and everyone else’s—was somehow his responsibility. On those rare occasions where I woke up without a hand on my cock or fingers wiggling into my ass, I felt the urge to pinch myself so I could be sure I wasn’t dreaming.
If there was a downside, it was that sleep itself was in somewhat short supply. My schedule with Mia at the restaurant was a mismatch for Luca and the alphas, who were up and out of the house before eight on weekdays.
What I had here was worth the lost sleep, though. And there were some additional upsides. It wasn’t unusual for Mia and me to go back to bed for an hour or so after the others left in the morning, and there was a special kind of magic in holding her trusting, sleep-heavy form in my arms without the nagging urge to pester her for sex. My needs were already met... by her, by the others.
At the age of thirty-one, I’d finally learned what it felt like to be sated—content inside my own skin.
Of course, this much happiness couldn’t last forever, before something intruded on our little paradise. Today had started out like any other day, with Mia and I yawning our way through our morning routine, then driving to the restaurant to get it open for lunch service. Mia was heading up a quick staff meeting to cover her latest tweaks to the seasonal menu. Meanwhile, I was in the back, finalizing the Q4 numbers.
Since the beginning of the year, I’d made a habit of glancing at the Michelin Guide website to check for the updated U.S. edition, which came out in January. And today, the homepage had changed.
Heart in throat, I entered ‘ St. Louis’ in the destination search bar at the top of the page and hit enter—already knowing what I was likely to find.
‘Unfortunately, there are no selected restaurants in the area you’ve searched for. The areas covered by the Michelin Guide are increasing regularly so we may have some selection soon.’
I closed my eyes, the stabbing ache through my heart more for Mia than for myself. The sick roil of guilt in my stomach, on the other hand... that part belonged solely to me. My actions had resulted in our personal upheaval spilling over into the restaurant’s operations. If I hadn’t pulled the emotional rug out from under my wife’s feet, the kitchen might not have been in chaos on the night the undercover Michelin inspector had shown up.
In so many ways, large and small, this was on me .
The clanging of pots and cheerful confusion of voices coming from the restaurant’s kitchen signaled that the staff meeting was over and we were about to open. There was no way in hell I was barging in at the beginning of the shift to announce to Mia that we’d officially lost our star.
Instead, I pulled out my phone and opened my texts. There was a group chat for the pack, but Mia would probably check her notifications at some point, while she was on a break. Instead, I texted the others individually.
New Michelin Guide out today. No star. I won’t tell Mia until after close, but she’s going to take it hard. She’ll need you tonight. Nothing on the pack chat about this, plz.
One by one, the replies came in—sincere condolences and promises to be waiting for us at the house. Those replies, along with the knowledge that four other people stood ready to support Mia through this loss, succeeded in what the Michelin Guide had failed to do earlier.
I wiped surreptitiously at my damp eyes, blinking against the harsh sting of tears.
Then another text came in—Emiel.
I know Mia won’t be okay, but are you?
My smile felt wobbly, but I couldn’t have stifled it if I’d tried.
Surprisingly, yes , I texted back. Though I don’t think I would have been if this had happened before New Years.
He’d know exactly what I meant by that.
I buried myself in numbers for the rest of the day and evening, avoiding the kitchen and front of house. On the positive side, those numbers looked great . But, on the negative side, I didn’t know if one look at me would be enough to set off Mia’s radar. I was determined not to make her deal with the news while she was working.
The rhythms of the restaurant ebbed and flowed beyond the sanctuary of my office, until eventually, the controlled chaos quieted into silence. Shortly afterward, a knock came on the door. It opened inward, revealing Mia.
“Hey, Nat—they missed you in the dining room today. Did those Q4 numbers eat you alive?” she teased. “Come on, it’s time to go home.”
Now that she was off-shift, there was no point in trying to sugarcoat the news. She’d known it would be coming at some point, just as I had.
“The new Michelin Guide posted today,” I told her. “I’m so sorry, Mia.”
She sucked in a small, sharp breath, and I watched with a pang as understanding flitted across her expression, followed by devastation. It lasted for only an instant before her features smoothed out.
“It’s not—” she began, only to cut herself off when her voice broke. She closed her eyes for a second before opening them and trying again. “It’s not like we didn’t see this coming.”
This time, her tone was even.
“No,” I agreed. “I know. Like you said, let’s go home.”
I didn’t know when the massive house in Ladue had become home for me; I only knew that there were people waiting for us inside its comfortable depths. People who cared about Mia... and who, for some strange reason, also seemed to care about me.
“Yeah,” she murmured.
The drive home was quiet. Mia spent it staring out the passenger side window into the winter darkness of the city at night. The light of streetlamps strobed over her thoughtful features as I drove.
As I turned off the Jeep’s engine, Luca threw open the door leading from the garage into the house. He met us there, wrapping his arms around Mia as she mounted the two steps to the doorway.
“I’m so sorry,” he said into her hair. “I know you were half expecting it, but it still sucks.”
“It does,” she agreed, still in that carefully even tone of voice.
“Come on,” I urged gently. “Let’s get inside where it’s warm.”
“We’re having a sleepover tonight in the nest,” Luca said. “You want to take a shower first?”
Mia shook her head wordlessly; the first real sign that she wasn’t as okay as she was pretending to be. Usually, she was in a hurry to wash off the scent of grill char and fry oil after a shift.
“I’ll be right up,” I said, handing her off to Luca.
Hurrying to the guest bedroom where I still kept my clothes and personal belongings, I changed into sleep pants and an old shirt before jogging upstairs. The door to Luca’s nest was open, the spacious room seeming noticeably smaller with six people in it.
Wading through the mess of pillows on the floor, I joined the others. They were gathered around Mia, who still looked worryingly distant in her borrowed thigh-length T-shirt. Emiel reached up from the floor and tugged her down with him, gathering her into his arms. Luca immediately lay down and wriggled in next to her, bracketing her from behind.
A large hand grasped me by the nape of the neck and gave me a little push toward the trio.
“Go on,” Byron said gruffly.
I slotted in behind Luca without an argument. “This okay?” I asked, waiting for his distracted nod before wrapping my arms around his slender frame. My hand landed on Mia’s hip.
Zalen sank to sit cross-legged among the cushions in front of us, pulling Mia’s bare feet into his lap. Byron hesitated before settling in behind me, the heat of his broad chest soaking into my back.
“Christ, I’m turning into a cuddler ,” he grumbled, as though it was a foul insult. “You people are the worst .”
Zalen shot him a quelling look before turning his full attention to Mia. “How are you feeling, sweetheart? Do you want to talk about it?”
Mia was still for a moment. Then she shook her head, her face buried against Emiel’s neck.
“I don’t know what to do next,” she admitted, after a small pause.
Luca squeezed her tighter. “Have a good cry? Maybe throw some pillows at the wall?”
“I don’t want to cry about it!” she said, a plaintive note creeping into her voice. “I... I don’t—” She drew in a hiccupping breath and abruptly burst into tears.
Emiel made a soft noise of distress, and a moment later, a deep sound like the purr of a giant cat vibrated up from his chest. Mia clutched at him and cried harder.
My heart broke for her.
“It’s all right,” Zalen said soothingly. “Things are going to be all right, I promise. We’ve got you.” His dark brown eyes swept to me in the nest’s low light. “We’ve got both of you. We’ll figure it out.”