Chapter 15
GABE
Mika's mom greeted us at the door with tight hugs and a knowing grin. "You smell like each other," she said. "Still no mark though. Why is that?"
"Mom, we've known each other for two weeks now."
"Yeah, and it's been a week since I gave you permission to mate him. What are you waiting for?" She turned to me. "Is he not good enough?"
Never comfortable being put on the spot, I sputtered until she laughed and patted my shoulder.
"I'm kidding, Gabe. You have about eleven months before your house is built, anyway.
" If Mika hadn't warned me about the house, I would have fainted dead away.
Instead, I inhaled sharply. "Guest room's available whenever you want a romantic getaway," she continued as she strolled through the living room, a path we hadn't taken the last time we were here. "The walls are soundproof."
"Mom!" Mika shouted after her. "Could you maybe give him a month or two to settle in before giving him the entire bossy family crash course?"
"Not a chance."
We followed her laughter to a massive dining room with floor to ceiling south-facing windows. While the room was impressive, the sheer number of people with dark skin, black hair, and expressive brown eyes like Mika's stunned me. I'd never seen so many beautiful people in one room.
They stood in clusters of six to eight. One person in each group spoke with animated expressions and wild hand gestures while the others hung on their every word.
That was what I liked most about Mika. He told a good story, sure, but he also listened better than anyone else in my orbit. I loved Becca with my entire heart, but that woman had the attention span of a caffeinated raccoon with cell phones for hands.
"No one is talking over the others," I whispered to Mika. "I feel like I'm at a small group speech event, or group therapy where they pass imaginary beach balls."
He laughed. "Nothing like that. We all love stories, which is why every meal becomes a five-hour affair."
Instead of joining a group, Mika took me around to all of them, introduced me as his mate, and moved on before the conversation began again.
I tried to remember the names of Mika's four siblings, starting with his older sister Rachel, and the two-years-younger twins, Franco and Faria, and Nathan, the youngest.
The rest of the room was a blur of faces with similar-sounding names. Even with my eye for detail, I would struggle to remember which name went with which face for months to come.
One face stuck out from the rest, though.
My dad already sat at the table beside Becca's dad and Mr. Bartleby, my former teacher.
I knew Dad would be here, but it shocked me to see him leaning forward, matching the others' body language, as Bruce's dad shared a tall tale, from the sounds of it.
He looked relaxed and happier than I'd seen him in a long time.
Granted, Mr. Bartleby gave off alpha energy, though he didn't fit what my dad had hammered into me as ideal alpha traits.
Even when seated, it was easy to see he was shorter than my dad by several inches.
I wanted to crash their conversation and give my dad the same dose of embarrassment he always gave me when I talked to alphas who weren't up to his standards, but I didn't want to make a scene in front of Mika and his family.
I swallowed my desire for retribution and gave him the benefit of the doubt.
Since my alpha dad left, he hadn't gotten out much.
Even if Dad decided Mr. Bartleby wasn't his type, I was glad to see him having fun.
Still, I got a weird little squiggle in my tummy when Talia proclaimed over dinner that Dad would stay at the warehouse indefinitely. After everyone clapped for him, Mr. Bartleby invited him to movie nights on Tuesdays, once he moved in.
"He lives here?" My whisper was so loud, every shifter in the room probably heard me, but my dad was oblivious.
"He's a turtle shifter," Mika said. "One of the wolves got a little too close during a pack run, so now he stays here with us."
Besides Bruce's dad and a few other beefy alphas I assumed were wolves, no one else at the table looked like my dad's stereotypical definition of an alpha. Living among the meerkats would teach him more nuance, I hoped.
No matter what my dad thought, I already knew I wanted to be with Mika. It was too soon to box up all my books and throw them in storage, but I would be ready once our house was built. If only Mika still wanted to be with me by then.
Two weeks later, Becca and Bruce returned from their honeymoon.
They hadn't gone far, driving down the coast to San Francisco, but they'd had a blast exploring the city.
Becca modeled her Giants baseball hat and 49ers t-shirt over a flouncy ruched linen skirt with a tilt of her hips before tackling me in a hug.
"Thank you so much for watching the place. How was Pickles?"
"Not her usual bubbly personality." I motioned to the closed pantry door, the tortoiseshell cat's usual hiding place when she sulked. I hadn't seen her since I arrived a half-hour earlier to open the windows and clean the litter box one last time.
"She missed you," I continued. "Every time I came over, instead of begging for pets, she ran away, yowling."
"Pickles? Kitty kitty? Where are you?"
We watched the pantry door, which didn't budge. "She's passed judgment on us by hiding," I said.
Becca sighed. "You're right. She gets temperamental when we leave. Hopefully, she'll be happier in the new place."
"When do you move?" I asked.
"We still have some painting to do, and Bruce has to pick out a couple different accessories for his man cave, also known as his garage." She rolled her eyes. "I've never had a garage in my life. Have you?"
"No car," I reminded her. "We had a carport when I was young.
" I didn't say it anymore, "when my parents were still together," but my chest ached at the memory.
I didn't know which loss I mourned more: my alpha dad or the privilege of living with both parents in a three-bedroom ranch in the suburbs.
"It was too flimsy, and we couldn't park under it.
" I finished the sad story with a half-shrug.
Becca and I had been the new kids in the same apartment building when we'd moved with our single dads.
That's how we met. She'd never visited our suburban ranch, and I had only driven by the beautiful stucco and tile-roofed home her mom had decorated with art prints, knickknacks, and all the other possessions her dad had sold after she passed away.
"Can you believe it?" Becca asked. "We're moving into a house, when I thought we'd be stuck in this run-down apartment forever."
Her apartment was three times the size of mine and allowed pets, but she didn't mean to insult my living situation. "Best wedding present ever?" I asked.
She glared at me. "You know it wasn't. He lied to me for years, claiming to rack up student loans, car payments, the works! That man hasn't owed a dime in his entire life."
"It's not a bad lie, though," I said. "He's loaded, from what I hear."
She laughed. "I mean, I guess ... but for him to think I wasn't trustworthy enough until I had a ring on my finger … that's what pissed me off. We're fated mates! What did he think I was going to do? Run off with his money?"
"Who knows," I said. "It's like we've always said. People with money do strange things, and until we have money ourselves, we wouldn't understand." I nudged her shoulder. "So, do you understand, now that you have money?"
"Hell no!" She laughed. "I mean, look at me. I splurged on a hat and a tourist shirt, $80 total on clothes! This is about as risky as my spending gets."
"When the first baby comes, you'll learn how to spend his money like an heiress," I said.
"Are you in here?" we heard from the entryway.
Becca's cheeks pinked, and she darted toward him. "Oh hi, Honey!"
"You forgot." He towed two large suitcases by their handles, which were looped through two smaller bags.
"Sorry. I should have helped you with those."
He laughed. "No worries! I meant the threshold."
She blinked. "Oh. Oops!"
"It's fine," he said. "This isn't the threshold I want, since it's not permanent."
"You're saying you want to carry me across the threshold at our new house?"
"I'd be honored."
The two of them in the same room together made me feel incredibly extra. Their eyes smoldered as they gazed at each other. They continued to walk toward each other, as though drawn together like magnets.
I cleared my throat, reminding them I was still here.
"Oh, hi, Gabe." Bruce took a step back, away from Becca. "Nice to see you."
"Congratulations again to the happily married couple," I said, though I doubted they heard me when their gazes collided again. "So, I guess I'll be going."
"Wait." Bruce's gaze snapped to mine. "I wanted to ask how things are going with Mika."
"Well, I've only known him a month." The last two weekends had been late-night make-out sessions and repeats of their wedding night, but I wouldn't tell them that. "Not much to report."
"Yeah, I get that." He grinned like he already knew what we'd done, or maybe he could guess. "I wanted to make sure you won't let a good thing pass you by just because your dad has different ideas about what an alpha should be."
"Oh, I know," I said. "I haven't let Dad make my decisions for me for years."
"Good," Bruce said. "I'd hate for Mika to miss out on such a great guy due to stereotypes."
"Are you saying I'm a great guy?" I teased. Hey, fishing for compliments was my only sport.
"Well, of course," he said. "You think I'd still let you hang around Becca if you were an asshole?"
"Excuse me," Becca said. "You don't get to tell me who to hang out with."
"I know, I know." He raised his hands in defeat. "But hear me out. If he was a total douchebag, like Kelvin—"
"Oh gods, Kelvin," she said. "Don't even mention his name."
"You were close for a minute," he teased.
"He wanted to get a lot closer, but I wasn't having it. Right, Gabe?"
"Right," I answered. The guy had tried to step in once Bruce left for North Carolina. Before the end of September, his intentions had become gross and transparent. "It took both of us, but we kicked him to the curb."
"That's why I like you," Bruce said. "You've always had her back when I couldn't be with her. I spent the early years resenting your friendship, but that was selfish and unfair."
A hot flush of pride rose from my chest, shoving all responses from my head.
Becca responded for me with a smacking kiss on his cheek. "That's so sweet. I'm glad you like each other."
"We like you more, though," Bruce said, never raising his gaze from hers. "Right, Gabe?"
"Right. I'll see myself out."
They paid no attention as I strode past their forgotten bags, through the entryway, and onto the outdoor terrace outside their apartment.
I pulled up my rideshare app as I walked down the concrete steps.
Once they were on their way, I meandered to the lone picnic table on a grassy hill overlooking the parking lot.
It was a beautiful Thursday in late spring, and my friends were back from their vacation.
Why did I suddenly feel completely and utterly alone?
I canceled my ride and called another, this time with a different destination in mind, somewhere I wouldn't be alone.