12. Calliope #2
A dot of honey mustard clings to his thumb after the next fry, bright against his skin. He notices it the same time I do and holds his hand halfway between the plate and his mouth, unsure which choice belongs to him.
I reach for a napkin and pause with it folded over my fingers. “May I?”
Theo’s eyes lift to mine. Then he turns his hand over and gives it to me.
The trust of it hits harder than the touch.
I cradle his wrist lightly, giving him room to pull back, and wipe the sauce from his thumb with one careful stroke.
His pulse flutters beneath my fingers, fast and delicate, and the warmth in my stomach tightens when he watches my mouth instead of the napkin.
“Got it,” I whisper.
Theo doesn’t move away.
Sloane’s purr threads through the booth again, steady enough to hold the shape of the moment. I hear the warning in it and the permission too. Keep it soft. Let him decide. Don’t set off the part of him that’s waiting for someone to turn wanting into a mistake.
I loosen my hold on Theo’s wrist, but he follows the retreat before I get far. His fingers catch mine, barely closing, and his gaze lifts from my mouth to my eyes with something startled and brave moving through it.
“Theo,” I say, his name almost too quiet to count.
He leans in before I know whether I’m asking a question or trying to steady myself.
The kiss is quick, a soft press of his mouth to mine that vanishes almost as soon as I understand it is happening.
His lips are warm. His hand stays in mine.
Then he freezes close enough that I can still feel his breath, eyes wide and face flooding red.
I keep my fingers around his, thumb resting near the place where the honey mustard had been. My heart is beating too hard, and my mouth still tingles from him, but I make my voice gentle when I speak.
“Hi,” I whisper.
Theo blinks once, like the word reaches him from somewhere far away.
Sloane’s purr deepens until the booth feels smaller around us in the safest way. He doesn’t smile too wide or make the kiss into something Theo has to survive being teased about. He keeps one hand flat on the table and his eyes soft on Theo’s face.
“Easy,” Sloane says. “You’re okay.”
Theo’s gaze cuts to him. Sloane stays still, and I feel the work of it through the bond, the careful restraint in him while Theo sits close to me with peach blossom warming the air.
I turn Theo’s hand gently in mine. “You surprised me,” I say, and I let the warmth stay in my voice so the words don’t sound like correction.
His throat moves, but no sound comes. He doesn’t hide. He only leans closer until his shoulder is fully against mine, and when I pick up my tea with my free hand, his fingers remain curled loosely around my other hand on the table.
Theo eats half his grilled cheese and three more of my fries, two from the basket and one from my fingers after he looks at me long enough that my whole body warms again.
Sloane watches from across the table with his purr settled low in his chest, a steady reminder every time I feel my own scent wanting to rise too quickly.
I eat because Idris will ask, and because Theo keeps glancing at my sandwich like my taking care of myself is part of the rules he's trying to learn.
Another text comes through while I’m halfway through the turkey sandwich.
Idris: Better. Keep eating.
I look at Sloane. “You’re reporting on me.”
Sloane’s mouth softens at one corner. “I value my life.”
Theo looks between us, and the small sound that leaves him is closer to a laugh than anything he has given me in public.
His cheeks go pink as soon as it happens, but he doesn’t pull back.
His shoulder stays pressed to mine, and the hand not holding mine nudges one of his fries toward my plate with two careful fingers.
“Thank you,” I say, taking it seriously enough that his eyes lift to mine.
For one bright hour, the pack spills gently into the ordinary middle of my workday. Theo nudges one of his fries onto my plate, and I eat it while his shoulder stays pressed to mine. Then Sloane’s phone lights up with Garrett’s name.
I feel the change in him before he picks it up. His purr thins. His shoulders settle into something more careful, and the warmth around the table pulls closer to the plates and cups between us.
Theo feels it too. His hand stills near my basket, one fry caught between two fingers.
“What did he say?” I ask.
Sloane reads the message twice before he answers. “We’ve got ten minutes left on the approved hour. Garrett says public exposure can hit late once Theo’s back in the car, and we should head out before he crashes.”
The message is reasonable. Garrett isn’t here.
He didn’t see Theo lean into my hand or feel the way his scent warmed after the first fry, but he’s doing what he's supposed to do as head Alpha: keeping Bellwether satisfied, keeping the visit clean, making sure nobody asks too much from an Omega still learning our house.
Something in my stomach sinks anyway. Theo’s hand hovers between our plates.
His shoulder is still pressed to mine, warm from lunch and the kiss and the hour he spent letting himself stay close.
Sloane watches my face from across the table, his eyes steady, and the absence of his purr makes the booth feel too open.
I shift, barely an inch, just enough to put space where Theo’s shoulder has been tucked against mine.
Theo notices immediately. The fry lowers to his plate, and his hand retreats to his lap. The warmth in his scent thins so quickly that the café air feels colder against my skin.
“Callie,” Sloane says.
I fold my hands around my tea so I don’t reach for Theo and confuse him more. “He’s had a lot,” I say, keeping my voice gentle for the table and steady for myself. “Garrett’s right. We should end while it’s still good.”
Sloane’s jaw tightens because I didn’t answer him, but he doesn’t argue in front of Theo.
He pays the check, gathers the untouched half of Theo’s grilled cheese into a box, and keeps each movement slow enough that nothing feels like a command.
Theo stands when Sloane does, eyes lowered, one hand hidden in his sleeve and the other curled around the to-go box.
At the café door, Theo pauses close enough that my coat sleeve brushes his. I could close the inch I made and give him back my hand, but I hold myself still.
“Thank you for coming,” I say.
Theo nods without looking up.