CHAPTER 26
WINDY
“This is so good,” I exclaim, shoveling another piece of lasagna into my mouth.
On her way, Remi picked up food from Tesoro. She knew I’d need a carb fest because she’s one of the only people who know me so well.
I take a slower bite of lasagna. The moment the fork leaves my lips, the flavor hits me so hard I can’t hold back the sound that rises in my throat. It’s been like this for the last several bites, and I can’t help it every single time. A low, grateful hum vibrates in my chest.
“Tesoro really outdid themselves tonight.”
The sauce is bright and tangy, the ricotta impossibly smooth and creamy.
The layers are so perfectly balanced that it feels like the dish is trying to anchor me back into my own body.
I close my eyes for half a second, letting the warmth of the food spread through me, grounding me in a way I didn’t realize I needed until right at this moment.
When I open my eyes, Remi smiles softly at me.
Blushing, I glance around my office on instinct, avoiding her gaze.
The rich wood gleams under the soft lamplight.
Every surface is polished to a shine. Built-in bookshelves stretch halfway up the wall, books arranged so precisely they look curated.
I use them often, having referenced them countless times since I took over from my father.
My desk stands like a monument in the room, immaculate, without a paper out of place.
The whole room feels controlled and orderly, in stark contrast to the storm brewing inside me.
The strict order of my office only makes this little blanket on the floor feel more like a rebellion.
Maybe I am rebelling in my own way. Who knows?
All I know is that being here—with Remi and shared takeout—grounds me in a way I didn’t realize I needed.
It marks a shift, a subtle but undeniable change in the evening’s flow.
Remi created this little island of softness in the middle of a very stuffy office.
She didn’t say a word when she walked in, either.
She set the take-out down, crossed the room with that quiet determination that is all Remi, and pulled the fuzzy blanket off the back of my office couch.
She shook it once, let it fall in a neat rectangle on the carpet, then turned toward me and held her hand out in a silent demand.
Her hand slipped around my wrist, warm and steady and nearly making me cry, and she tugged me gently out of my chair before depositing me on the blanket with care.
I didn’t ask what she was doing. I didn’t really care.
Still don’t. The only thing I was focused on was the fact that she showed up at a moment’s notice.
She didn’t have to, but she did, and I love her even more for that.
“Are you ready to talk?” she asks around a mouthful of spaghetti and meatballs.
She sits beside me, legs folded. Her spaghetti and meatballs rest in her lap. After her question, she eats in silence. Her expression is calm; her presence is solid. She gives me space and lets me breathe. She lets me gather myself without demanding more than I can give.
“At least tell me who the flowers are from?” she inquires, looking at them lovingly. “They’re beautiful.
Tears blanket my eyes as I rip a piece of my breadstick and pop it into my mouth. “It’s from them.”
“Oh.” Her mouth falls open in an O as she looks between the flowers and me.
I take another bite, and another involuntary sound slips out of my mouth as the flavor blooms again. I feel her glancing at me, but I don’t want to look at her just yet. She’s not prying, not pushing. She’s just checking in, quietly, the way she always does.
In this moment, sitting on a blanket on the floor in my too-perfect office, eating takeout lasagna while she holds the world steady around me, I don’t think I’ve ever loved her more.
She’s there for me when she doesn’t have to be—when she is only just now beginning to let her mates near her again without pushing them away.
I’ve never been happier, but at the same time, more envious of Remi than ever before; both feelings rise as the three of us share this space, tangled together in contrasts.
Remi’s mates had to work for what they have now.
I’m not saying they didn’t. Still, they didn’t do nearly as much to Remi as my mates did to me.
My mates went too far. They brought others into the mix and almost broke our bond.
After that omega in the club, they didn’t mess with another female, but the harm was done.
I couldn’t picture kissing another alpha, not when I have my mates.
Yet they were with another omega—all without a care.
Still, that is not what broke me.
What broke me was the way Wolf treated me that night in his office. He snarked, mocked me, and claimed I was never pregnant. He snapped his teeth at me like a feral animal, his pronounced canines terrifying me. It takes a lot to scare me, but that night, Wolf did exactly that.
He never apologized for it, either. They’re sorry for what they did, but only because of who I am in the business world.
Before now, they rejected me because I wasn’t what they needed to fulfill Wolf’s inheritance.
Now, though, they’re running with their pink things hanging out, and they’re ready to mate with me.
I call bullshit.
I sigh, taking another bite of lasagna. Remi shifts beside me.
It’s small, just the faintest adjustment of her posture.
In the quiet of the office, it feels like someone striking a bell.
I glance over; she's eating, still calm, still giving me space. But her eyes say she’s done waiting, and I can feel the tension slip into the moment, blending the silence between us with a new urgency.
“Windy,” she says softly.
My stomach tightens. “Yeah?”
She sets her fork down with care and fully turns to face me. Her expression isn’t demanding or harsh, only understanding—steady and focused. She looks at me the way she does before walking me into a truth that might sting.
“What are you going to do about your mates?”
“I don’t know,” I admit. My voice is barely above a whisper.
“You never told me what happened between you all. All you would say is that it’s complicated.” Her tone is gentle and unyielding. “Uncomplicate it for me.”
So, I do. I explain the months of torment and rejection, how low I sank, and how I had to get my head out of my ass to start living again.
The more I talk, the more blank her face becomes. Normally, Remi is the type to wear her emotions on her sleeve. Usually, I can tell what she’s thinking before she can even say anything. But now, in my office, I have no clue what she’s thinking. I don’t even know where to start.
“Why aren’t you giving them a chance?” she asks, her tone gentle but unyielding. “I know they hurt you, but you can at least give them a chance.”
“Did you not hear what all they did to me?”
“Yes, I heard. I also see what they’re trying to do.
” She gives me a soft look. “All I’m saying is .
.. being without your scent match mates is agony.
Soul-crushing. I know. I tried it. It doesn’t work.
But that doesn’t mean you have to make it easy for them.
Make them work for it, but don’t completely shut them out. You deserve so much more.”
I don’t know how right she is, and this may be the only time I don’t take Remi’s advice. Sometimes, you can’t come back from it. You pushed too far, too hard. That’s what they did. They pushed and pushed and pushed until I couldn’t take it anymore.
I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forgive them, and I damn sure won’t be able to forget.
I inhale slowly, the air thick in my lungs. My gaze drifts around the room. The illusion of control blurs my vision. Everything feels too pristine, too curated, like a life I’m only pretending to have figured out.
“They only want me because of the inheritance,” I say, the words spilling out sharper than I intend. “They know where I come from. I’m carrying their kid. That’s the only reason. It’s not because they want me.”
“Windy ...”
Remi doesn’t flinch. She doesn’t look surprised. She just watches me with that steady, unwavering patience that somehow makes it harder to hide.
“No.” I shake my head. "I can’t.”
“And?” she says, her voice quiet but firm. “You know they wanted you. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have been with you.”
“Wolf called my pussy subpar, Remi,” I grind out, shaking my head.
“I know they hurt you,” she says. “I know those months were awful. I’m not pretending they weren't. But you're miserable, Windy.”
Her words hit harder than I expect. It steals my breath. I feel them in my chest, in the tightness behind my eyes, in the way everything stutters around me.
“I want you to smile again,” she finishes, and there’s no judgment in her voice, just concern. Just care. Just Remi.
I swallow hard, staring at my lasagna. The room feels too quiet, still waiting for words I can’t find. Remi doesn’t push—she just sits beside me, steady and reassuring, letting the truth settle between us. She lets me decide what to do with it, and with my life.
We sit here in silence for the rest of the time we’re here. We eat, and I mull over her words to try to get a better understanding of them.
Yes, they’re simple. So very simple. But at the same time, they’re very complex.
It’s not as easy as she makes it out to be.
I saw the way she was low, low, low when her mates didn’t want her.
I saw the way she closed in on herself and became a shell of a person because of what they did. It’s not easy to just forgive someone.
Especially me. I’m not the forgiving type. It takes a lot to get me to forgive, and I don’t think my mates have it in them to get me to. They didn’t even have it in them to give us anything except one night together before they were rejecting me the very next day.