Chapter 12
MIKA
"Where is that boy off to?" Gabe's dad, Jerry, asked no one in particular.
Gabe dashed between tables and then sprinted the last twenty feet to grab the man I recognized as Becca's dad only because the photographer kept calling him "B-Dad" throughout the photo shoot, while Bruce's parents were "Alpha Dad" and "Omega Dad.
" I'd wanted so badly to rename him Big Daddy, but this wasn't the time or the place.
"Today must be hard on Becca's dad," I said. "How long has it been since her mom passed away?"
"Seventeen years," Jerry said with more vehemence than I'd ever seen directed toward a dead woman. "Same amount of time I've been divorced."
That explained the fury, at least.
"Gabe mentioned your divorce," Mom said. "Where does his alpha dad live?"
Jerry squinted at Mom and sniffed, his nose wrinkling. It was rude as hell to sniff a shifter in public, especially a female, but this human didn't know our ways. "It's not polite to assume one's designation," he said.
"You impolitely assumed my son was a beta, then. Besides, I can smell the omega on you."
He opened his mouth to argue, but Mom latched onto his arm and pulled him a few feet farther away from the rattle of dinnerware in the reception hall.
"You're an alpha," he muttered.
She wasn't, not by designation, but she was the matriarch of our family. "I'd be your alpha in the old country," she said. "Unmarried omegas related to my son-in-law would fall under my family responsibilities. I'd give you a room in our shared family housing and be done with it."
That got his attention. He stared up at her with eyes as big as saucers.
"However, I'm content to continue letting you live as you are now, if you'll let our sons mate in peace."
"You'd take me in?" He blinked up at her. "Do you have any idea how hard it's been, trying to make ends meet since Carl left? My apartment is too big for one person, now that Gabe moved out, and I'm never home, always trying to earn enough to pay rent."
Mom met my gaze, and I shrugged. Humans were supposed to be all independent, but if he would rather live with us at the compound, I wouldn't stop him.
"Take me in," he said. "I won't cause any problems. Hell, I might meet my own fated mate."
"Anything is possible," she said. "I'll run it by the family tomorrow at dinner. You're welcome to join us. Gabe will be there, right, Mika?"
Her sharp question caught me off guard, and I coughed into my hand to regain my composure. "Hmm. Yes. He'll be there."
"All right, it's settled. I need to find my mate before he thinks I've abandoned him completely."
We stared after her. I wondered if she even sensed our eyes on her back anymore or if she was used to it as head of our meerkat clan.
With her gone, I was painfully aware of the man standing beside me in awkward silence. I should have said something, but I was still reeling from how quickly he'd flipped from saying I wasn't alpha enough for his son to glomming onto Mom's offer of rent-free living space.
"See you tomorrow at family dinner," I said.
"What's the address?" he asked.
"I'll have Gabe text it to you. I'll find him now, so we don't forget."
"Do that. He's always so forgetful."
I mustered what I hoped was a polite smile and strode away, ignoring his continued muttering about his "ungrateful son." Part of me wanted to excuse his negativity on account of social anxiety, but Gabe merely rolled his eyes as I recounted our conversation.
"Dad's being Dad." He sighed. "What's the address?"
With the text sent, I followed Gabe as he made the rounds to the caterers, waitstaff, hotel front desk, and back to Becca's dad, now seated at a round table a few feet away from the bridal party's rectangular table.
The glass in his hand looked dark enough to be straight cola, and he laughed with several older gentlemen I didn't recognize.
Despite everything going exactly according to plan, Gabe looked more agitated with each passing moment. "Where are they?" he asked. "They should have been here by now."
"They said to start without them," I reminded him. "It'll be all right."
"But the toasts!"
"You can toast them after folks get some food in their bellies. Believe me, people will forget and forgive many faux pas, but starving them at a wedding is not one of them."
Gabe nodded. "You're right. Some of Mr. Newcomb's friends look like they could eat the waitstaff."
I laughed. "Most of them are prey shifters, not predators."
Gabe blinked at me. "They're shifters? That's so unfair! Mr. Bartleby was my tenth grade English teacher." He pointed to the man with long brown fringe beneath his bald crown, hunched over his cocktail. Though the room was full of shifter scents, I singled him out.
Before I shared his shifter animal, Gabe slapped his hands to his mouth. A high-pitched laugh escaped, anyway. "Turtle?" he whispered.
I nodded. "Turtle. The guy next to him is a ferret, the most predatory of the group. The next two are bunnies, and the guy sitting closest to Becca's dad is human." I pointed to the empty chair to his right. "Your dad might want to sit with them."
"Good guess," Gabe said. "That's his assigned seat."
I'd missed the folded paper placeholders around each of the round tables.
"Where's yours?" I asked.
"I tried to convince Becca to let me sit between her and Bruce, but she said no.
" He waggled his eyebrows at his joke. "Your mom insisted I sit by her, so I had to do some last-minute rearranging.
" He led me to the table on the opposite side of the room, but just as close to the wedding party's table.
"You'll sit there," he pointed to the right side of the table.
"And I'll sit here." He sank down onto a padded folding chair and kicked the one next to him, angling it away from the table. "For now, we can sit together."
Our peaceful break lasted only a moment before the caterers found us. "We're ready to start serving."
Gabe stood and flashed an apologetic smile. "The show must go on. You can hang out in my spot, or go sit with the girls." He motioned to Becca's side of the table, where her two bridesmaids sat.
I shifted into his chair without comment. I didn't even know their names, and I'd walked down the aisle with the blonde one.
Feedback on a microphone startled us all to silence, and then Gabe's smooth tenor came over the loudspeaker, telling folks at his dad's table to start the line at the buffet, followed by the table between us, and then mine.
My parents rushed to their seats after the announcement, and then we played the waiting game until it was their turn to get food.
"I met your mate," my dad said, kicking the toe of my boot under the table without moving out of his seat. "He's handsome. And very sweet."
"He is," I agreed, though I wanted to crawl under the white tablecloth and hide. My dad and I never talked about boys. Mom had been my go-to parent for the birds and the bees, break-ups, and heartaches.
Dad liked professional sports and action movies.
The first, I'd never gotten into, but the second had been our love language since I was a toddler.
"Have you seen the new Bautista flick?" I asked, starting a heated debate that lasted until it was the table's turn through the buffet line.
I sat quietly and waited, but then we continued our discussion after he returned to the table with a plate piled high with barbecued pork and every side imaginable.
For her part, Mom didn't leave the movie conversations up to her boys, as she called us. She gave as good as she got. "Too many explosions, not enough feelings," she said during a lull in the conversation.
"The interlude with his brother made me cry," Dad retorted.
"That's because you're emotionally stunted and needed the outlet. For the emotionally regulated, that was nothing."
Our conversation was cut short by the screech of the microphone again. Gabe really needed to learn how to hold it farther from his body.
"Congratulations to the happy couple, Bruce and Becca Carson!"
They walked through the decorated arch in the doorway looking far from happy.
Becca glared at Bruce, who looked like he might burst into tears at any moment.
Then, she took his hand, glanced up at him, and her entire demeanor changed.
She closed her eyes and nodded, and his responding smile lit up his face.
At the chime of metal on crystal, Bruce bent her backward and kissed her to ecstatic cheers, whoops, and whistles.
"The wedding party will now assemble at the head of the line. Sorry, folks. I appreciate your patience while we get these folks fed and onto the dance floor."
"Gabe's a hoot," Mom said, tapping her elbow against mine. "He's calling you, by the way."
"Hmm?"
"You're the wedding party."
Right. I wriggled from my chair, walking the back legs behind me so they didn't scrape across the parquet flooring. Each time someone stood up too fast, it sounded worse than a record scratch. The sound was even more annoying to the shifters among us.
I followed my nose to the delicious smells along the side wall and stood in line behind everyone else, ignored until Gabe approached me.
"How's everything going so far?" he asked.
"I'm fine," I said. "I'm not the one who has to deal with a grumpy-ass dad and a bride about to murder her husband. Have you talked to her?"
"No, not yet. I think they're gonna be okay, though," he said. "I hope."
He knew Becca better than I did, at least. Ahead of me in line, the happy couple now stared into each other's eyes, talking and laughing as they dished food onto each other's plates.
"How much longer before you get to eat?" I asked.
Instead of answering me, he flipped the switch on the microphone and said, "Third row of tables, you're up." He side-stepped so he stood beside me rather than behind me in line, and motioned with the live microphone, making it whine. "Oops." He hastily shut it off.
One more step, and I was even with the caterer handing out plates and asking if I wanted one sandwich or two.
"Vegetarian option?" I asked.
"Baked potato." He dropped the largest potato I'd ever seen on my plate.
I wasn't a spud fan, but I compensated with heaping spoons of macaroni and cheese, coleslaw, and pasta salad mixed with sliced vegetables to make people think it was good for them.
It was a ton of carbs, but I was still at a deficit after healing from yesterday's swimming fiasco.
I added an extra dollop of sour cream and a few chives and followed the bridesmaids to the table.
Isiah still wouldn't look at me, but he nudged my shoulder when I sat down beside him. "How are you feeling today?"
"Like I got hit by a shark."
That got his attention. His gaze flicked to mine. "Still?"
I shook my head. "No, man. I'm fine." When I'd shifted back to my human form this morning, even the bruises had vanished.
"I'm really sorry."
"I know." I patted his shoulder. "It's fine, really. The best way to avoid a shark attack is to stay out of the water. I'll remember that next time."
He laughed. "Do you like beach volleyball?"
I didn't like most sports, but I'd spent years watching the men's Olympic team for reasons that weren't exactly sporty. "I could play."
"Meet you on the beach after the sunset pictures, then. Bruce's cousins set up the net. Bring your side piece." He pointed to Gabe, who stood at the tail end of the food line, now that everyone else had been served.
"He's my mate."
"That's what I said." Isiah winked. Strong, smart, and funny. It was hard to understand why the big lug was still single.