Chapter 11
GABE
Mika looked so cute sitting in my lap. I almost didn't want to move, even though I could barely keep my eyes open.
I'd gotten to the end of my book, where the murderer had finally been convicted and the victim's family could rest knowing justice had been served. It was a good stopping point for the night.
Mika twitched in his sleep, his little paws moving, his ears flat against the sides of his head. He even made coaxing noises like a cat talking to its prey. I stroked my hand down his back, and he burrowed deeper into my lap.
This wasn't what I had expected from having a mate. Though I knew shifters existed, I never expected to have a mate who was also, not a pet, but pet-like.
He would hate it if I called him my pet, but he was the closest thing I'd ever had to one.
My dad didn't allow animals in our house.
Then I'd moved to an apartment complex that didn't allow pets, either.
Besides, I barely fit in my one-bedroom efficiency.
I couldn't imagine a cat or dog stuck in there with me, knocking things over with every turn.
No, my life was not meant for pets, but maybe with Mika it could be.
And no, I didn't mean having a meerkat on my lap.
Hopefully one day, when we lived in the fancy exclusive gated compound he swore wasn't mafia-related, in a house with a picket fence and all the trappings of domestic life, perhaps then we could have a dog, cat, or both.
I shimmied down the bed until my head rested on the bank of pillows, and Mika lay on my chest. I tucked him under the covers to contain the scent of saltwater and fur. It wasn't altogether unpleasant, but it was strange enough to keep me awake.
None of this was normal for me. I didn't share hotel rooms with alphas.
After a hookup, I never stayed the night.
Tonight was supposed to be a special milestone in our relationship, but it was just as domestic as our other dates.
The hot-as-fuck kiss in the storage unit hinted our relationship could be more, but we had yet to prove it.
I didn't mind, though. Tonight's trip to the nail salon had been an emotionally intense retail therapy session with Becca. She knew she wanted to marry Bruce, but she had so many hang-ups about his past, their financial freedom, and the uncanny feeling he was keeping something from her.
I'd seen him extricate himself from conversations about their finances with the dexterity of an acrobat.
He was downright shady about money, which was weird because he spent it like a billionaire.
Or so I assumed. How would I know? I didn't know any billionaires except the shitty ones making headlines for shooting off into space.
Becca loved Bruce, but she worried she was entering into a marriage that would eventually end in financial ruin and divorce.
So much for fated mates. She prided herself on being financially frugal, especially with her fine arts career.
Like me, she taught on the side to make ends meet, but that didn't mean her art was any less valuable or important than the proverbial starving artists.
She was a responsible artist perfecting her craft, and she worried her husband's debt would erase her hard-earned gains in a millisecond and leave them perpetually behind.
Tomorrow, Becca and Bruce would walk down the aisle together and bet half their shit they would love each other forever. She worried that half her shit wouldn't be enough.
Though I tried to stay positive, I couldn't disagree with her. From what Becca had told me, their ideas about money were so different, and it weighed heavily on her mind, even when she swore she was happy with him.
Someday soon, I needed to have a similar discussion with Mika. He had an excellent job with the state, but all it would take was one elected official saying green energy was a waste of time and money, and he would be looking for a new job.
So far, he relied on his family for the big-ticket items, like the bookshelves he loaned me. Though I'd only seen inside the one storage unit, I'd been impressed by his family's commitment to recycling and reusing their storage items.
Meanwhile, when Bruce wanted something new, he went out and bought it. I'd gotten the better mate, even if they were close friends.
My heart ached for Becca. She was walking into her relationship with Bruce with eyes wide open, which was the only way I could forgive myself if it ended up being the wrong decision. It had never been my decision to make. She'd loved Bruce since we were fourteen.
I'd only known Mika for a couple of weeks, and while it was selfish, I would have rather mated someone with emotional maturity than someone with tons of book smarts but who avoided confrontation outside of his wolf form.
Who was I kidding? No matter how much I liked Mika, he would eventually realize I was too much, and then he would walk away.
Becca looked every bit the blushing bride as she and Bruce stood with their backs to the audience, facing the rolling tides and a vibrant officiant with plum-colored hair that matched her dress.
In no time at all, they said their memorized lines, recited their vows with more than a few tears, and then it was time for Bruce to kiss the bride.
I couldn't keep my gaze on Becca, though. I kept darting over to where Mika stood at Bruce's right. He wasn't the best man, who almost forgot to give Bruce the ring, but he was the third groomsman standing up with him.
Meanwhile, Becca's side had Jenna, Bruce's little sister, as her maid of honor.
Two acquaintances who didn't even know Bruce stood up as her attendants.
I would have looked better than all three of them in the pink gowns Becca had picked.
Instead, I, her real best friend, sat on a rickety metal folding chair two rows back, certain one wrong move would send me tumbling into my dad, who sat to my left.
Gods love him, but my dad did not understand that wedding etiquette was to be quiet during the ceremony. He leaned over to whisper in my ear about everything.
"Why is her dress white? She's been fucking that guy for ages."
I wanted to tell him to shut up, but that would only infuriate him, increasing the volume of his whispers.
"I thought all of Bruce's friends were alphas. What's up with that skinny beta?"
He meant Mika, since Isiah, the best man, had two inches and fifty pounds of muscle on Bruce, and the other groomsman was Bruce's size. "He's an alpha, Dad."
"He's no alpha," he said after a short pause. "Even if he was, he wouldn't be good enough for you."
In less than five minutes, my dad had already dissected my love life and found it wanting. My horrified expression gave me away.
"Don't tell me you like him. That would be just perfect." For once, his sarcasm rolled over me like the tide without pulling me out to sea.
After the ceremony, we formed a line to greet the happy couple.
When I shook Bruce's hand, my shirt sleeve slid up, and Dad saw the tail and feet of my meerkat tattoo.
Once Bruce and Becca moved on to the next well-wishers, he grabbed my arm and pulled my sleeve up even further.
"What is this? Please tell me you had somebody draw on your arm and this isn't permanent. "
"No dad. Becca and I got tattoos two weeks ago."
"Tattoos!" He blanched, and I worried he might faint on me right there in the sand. "You marked your skin forever. No alpha will want you now."
"You know what, Dad? Maybe that's for the best." A flash of pink and charcoal drew my attention to Mika and the rest of the wedding party. They walked up the hill toward the hotel, and an uncanny pull from my tattoo urged me to follow them.
I didn't get more than two steps before Mika's mom stopped me. "Introduce me to your dad," she said, her voice low enough that I doubted other shifters could hear her.
I turned, finding him still standing where I'd left him, now frowning at the wedding party. "Dad, this is—"
"Talia Mears." She stepped between us and held out her hand. "My son Mika is in the wedding party."
"The beefcake best man?" Good old Dad, always taking a bad situation and making it gross.
"No. He's a groomsman." She grabbed his arm and tugged him back to the rows of folding chairs still arranged on the beach. With a wink over her shoulder, she shooed me toward the hotel with her other arm.
When I got to the main lobby, I found Becca and Bruce arguing with their photographer.
After some soothing pheromones and swift negotiation, they were back to their agreed arrangement.
The photographer would take the indoor pictures while we waited for the caterers to set up.
After the meal, they would go back to the beach for sunset pictures with the wedding party, which Becca so desperately wanted.
Crisis averted, I returned my attention to ogling Mika, and he continued to ignore me. Frustrating.
It was Becca's day though, so I concentrated more on making sure she was okay. I pulled her aside in the hallway once the photographers finished with pictures. "Do you need anything?" I asked. "Is there anything I can get you?"
"Oh no," she said. "Well, maybe a water."
I took a step toward the ballroom, but she tapped me on the shoulder and leaned in to whisper, "Bruce wants to talk to me, even before we eat."
I tried not to match her look of alarm. "Take a deep breath with me." I breathed in, and she followed my lead.
When we had both exhaled, she nodded and began again. "He wants me to sit down with his family in a conference room. He booked it privately. That's weird right?"
I agreed, but, "It's gonna be okay, I promise." That seemed a little premature, since I didn't know what he wanted to discuss. She opened her mouth to argue, so I blurted, "Do you know what it's about?"
"Why are you so calm?" she asked. "Did he say something to you?"
"I know nothing," I cradled her beautifully manicured fingers in mine. "Do you love him?"
"With my entire heart and against my better judgment," she said.
"There's nothing they can tell you in this meeting that will change that." Well. Only one thing would send Becca running for the hills, wedding dress and all. "He wouldn't admit to cheating in front of his family, right?"
She swatted my arm. "How dare you!" For a moment, I thought she was serious, but then her grimace curved up into a smile and she shook her head, laughing.
"Hey, I'm your bestie. Always gotta be looking out for you."
"You can get that water now, then." She shoved me toward the doorway. "Love you, Bestie!"
She'd splurged on the fancy water in glass bottles. I pulled one from the cooler beneath the gift table and wiped it on the hotel towel I'd set beside it for just this occasion, so I wouldn't wipe it on my pretty pink shirt.
When I returned to the hallway, Bruce stood beside Becca, gazing down at her with all the love and affection he'd built over the last fifteen years they'd known each other. One day, I hoped someone looked at me like that.
I glanced at the alpha standing beside him.
My breath lodged in my throat when Mika's gaze caught on mine.
Not someone, I amended. I wanted Mika to look at me like that someday, though he already took my breath away.
If he looked at me the way Bruce looked at Becca, I might forget to breathe completely.
"Water," I croaked, my throat suddenly dry.
"Thanks." Becca didn't even look at me. With a feat of dexterity, I tucked the bottle into her flailing hand. It was a miracle she didn't drop it.
I realized too late that I'd forgotten an important task. Glass bottles had metal caps, ones that needed to be removed. She brought the bottle up to her mouth, and I grimaced at imagined dental bills.
With a quick twist of his wrist, Mika reached in, removed the cap, and pulled away mere inches before Becca would have kissed his knuckles instead of taking a drink.
"My family's waiting," Bruce said once she'd gulped down half the bottle in one go. "We shouldn't be long. Tell the caterers to start serving folks without us."
I nodded, and Mika waved at their backs.
"What's that about?" I asked.
"Family secret. I'll let Becca tell you."
I heaved a sigh and pretzeled my arms over my chest. "Let me guess. You already know."
He grinned. "Perks of growing up next door."
Before I could interrogate him, or whine until he took pity on me and shared the secret, Talia shoved between us, her arm still hooked around my dad's. With disheveled hair, jacket hanging to one side, and a lipstick stain on his cheek, he looked like he had survived a tornado.
"Mika, I want you to meet Jerry Edwards, Gabe's father."
"Mr. Edwards." Mika's voice was as smooth as velvet. "Wonderful to meet you. Gabe has told me so much about you." His smile didn't quite meet his eyes, but I couldn't blame him. Nothing I'd said about my dad had been encouraging.
"Mika," my dad said with a stiff nod. "You're a bit small to be an alpha, but I'll allow it."
Talia slipped her arm from my dad's and slid it through Mika's, grabbing his hand so he couldn't make the same gesture I was, with his arms raised to his sides.
"You'll allow what, exactly?" I asked.
"Mrs. Mears said you two are mates. It's news to me."
"We're … it's complicated," I said.
Talia tugged on Mika's arm, her frown deepening.
"We were going to talk more about it after the wedding," Mika said. "We're fated mates, but that doesn't have to mean … all this." He gestured to the ballroom, where the caterers had already begun to set up the buffet table.
"What are your intentions toward my son?" Dad asked.
I wanted to disappear into the concrete floor beneath the hallway's all-purpose carpeting. It was bad enough when my dad treated me like I was a child who needed to learn a lesson. When he acted like he fucking cared about me to strangers, the hypocrisy turned my stomach.
"I told you." Talia dragged Mika over to me and hooked his arm in my tattooed one before stepping back to admire her handiwork. "They're fated mates."
"What does that even mean?" he asked. "Sounds like a ridiculous fairy tale."
Talia shook her head. "My mate and I are fated." She pointed to a slim beta talking to Becca's dad, thank the gods. Keeping Becca's dad occupied and away from the free liquor was my reception duty. "It's even better than a fairy tale. It's real."
My dad looked like he was about to turn into Maleficent herself if someone didn't start talking sense.
Unfortunately, it wouldn't be me. Mr. Mears had left Becca's dad wide open, and he was two steps closer to grabbing his first toast to his dead wife.
"Gotta go!" I said, unhooking my arm from Mika's.