by Aiden Bates
With that she was gone. I waited until she was out the door before letting out a frustrated sigh. There was no way I was going to show anyone here how angry I was. It had been hard as hell to get this job in the first place, even with a Harvard degree. Every single thing I’d earned here had been by the skin of my teeth. Even hinting that this was something I had a problem with was a good way to be given the boot. Oh, not through the front door of course. They wouldn’t want the threat of a lawsuit by firing one of their only omega employees for being “too emotional.” No, it would be some sort of backdoor deal. They’d bury me in work while demoting me until I couldn’t take it and left on my own. So, the best way to make this work to my advantage was to play by the rules for now. Right now, all they cared about was the potential blow to the business this could have. If I made it into anything else, even if it was clearly a double standard, they’d get me out of the way as soon they could.
Even though I knew that was the right thing to do, it still didn’t make the fire in my belly burn any cooler. I kept myself composed as I packed my bag with everything I thought I might need in the next few days, or even weeks? Who knew? I left without incident, and it was only when I was in the car and pulling onto the highway that I let myself get properly angry.
Fuck them. Fuck this. They knew full well that hiring escorts wasn’t uncommon. They knew better than anyone, I’d say. Half of them used escorts themselves. The other junior partners and associates were the ones who had encouraged me to do it in the first place. Mitch had hinted more than once when I’d mentioned a name that it wasn’t the first time he’d heard it from one of the omegas he’d worked with. All of the old alphas at the top were married, and I wondered vindictively how their spouses would treat the information that they were visiting omegas the ages of their children. I wasn’t going to apologize for doing what everyone else was doing just because I’d been caught.
It was infuriating, but the rage quickly gave way to panic. Even though I knew I hadn’t done anything wrong, nothing more than anyone else at any rate, I was being punished. And this was the worst possible time for it to happen. We’d just bought a house, and now we had a baby on the way. When I’d asked Mitch to leave the business, I’d promised him a certain level of stability, and now, I felt like I wasn’t delivering what I promised. I knew none of that mattered to Mitch. I was confident enough in our relationship to know he would love me regardless, but still, I felt the overwhelming sensation I was letting him down.
And it was now obvious that Rob knew Mitch and I were together. I had no doubts whatsoever about where this mysterious information had come from. It was too convenient for it to have been anyone else. Mitch had said Rob liked getting into people’s heads, messing with them. If the phone call had been a warning, these were his opening moves. It was clear his goal was to tear us apart from each other. But he’d failed to really, truly know Mitch. It could ruin me, it could leave us broke and without a plan, but it wouldn’t make me feel differently about Mitch. It wouldn’t make Mitch feel differently about me.
But Mitch was in no state to deal with this. He needed calm and peace. He was pregnant for god’s sake, and like hell I was going to let Rob Callahan fuck with that. As if he hadn’t been doing so enough already.
Well, there was nothing for it. I was just going to have to deal with it.
A random thought crossed my mind.
No. We were going to have to deal with it.
25
Marcos
The medical students were arranged in a horseshoe shape around the doctor, and because the doctor’s back was to me, the students could look past him to see me. One student who had been called on was just finishing her morning report on Pedro and was trying but failing to keep her voice from shaking. I couldn’t blame her. Malmur hadn’t scared me, but having to give an answer in front of my teacher, and the other students, and the family members of the patient, and the patient, if they were awake? I’d be scared if I were her, too.
I quietly held up my arm and gave her a thumbs up over top of the doctor’s head. I hoped she didn’t take that as a weird kind of sarcasm but understood I was trying to verify she’d covered everything in her report. Or, at least everything that I’d managed to learn to keep up with while I’d been doing this with Pedro.
The attending left with his medical students filing behind him. That had made me smile at first, when I’d first started getting used to their routines. To me, they seemed like ducklings, nervously following a very mean mother duck.
Usually, when they left, the room went completely silent until the nurses’ shifts changed. That was generally my cue to head down to the cafeteria or to the vending machines to bring up food. This time, though, as soon as the students ducked out of the room, someone ducked back in.
Oliver held the door open with his foot, slid in through the opening then walked over to the counter by the sink to put down an armful of take out bags. He then started pulling out Chinese takeout boxes and slamming them down all along the counter until he had made an improvised Chinese buffet right there in the room. When he was done, he turned to offer me an empty plate, and finally said something to me.
“Hi,” he said, with a shortness to his tone.
“Hi,” I answered, confused. The Chinese food smelled amazing though, so I wasn’t about to turn it down even if I didn’t understand exactly what was happening and why Oliver was here after I hadn’t spoken to them in a week.
I loaded up my plate and took it back to my chair as Oliver served himself, and then turned to lean on the counter. Something was wrong, though. Because when I happened to glance up from my food, I noticed Oliver was barely picking at his.
Oh, no. Oh, god.
“The sonogram!” I said almost choking on a piece of chicken. “Oh my god, what happened? What’s wrong?”
“What?” Oliver looked up, startled.
“Mitch said the baby was healthy, has something—”
“No, no! It’s fine. The baby’s fine. We’re fine. Jesus.”
“Oh,” I said, wrinkling my forehead. “I’m sorry. You just look like there’s something really wrong.”
Oliver hesitated for a second, and then took a bite out of a dumpling, but it seemed less like he wanted to eat it and more like he wanted to buy time before he had to answer. After what seemed like an eternity he finally swallowed the mouthful down.
“Everything’s fine. Sort of fine. We miss you, but I actually came because I need a favor.”
“From me?” Now I understood even less than before. “Yeah, sure. Whatever. I’ll help you with what I can. I just… What could you need from me?”
As soon as I agreed to help, Oliver sat down in the chair opposite me and pulled it closer. He looked like someone who was about to propose something illegal or at least something you didn’t want other people to overhear.
“Okay, so, I’m fairly sure you don’t know this, but, basically, this is how Mitch and I met…” Oliver said, as he started telling me a story that started in high school for Mitch and ended in Oliver’s office earlier this morning.
“So, that’s where we are right now,” Oliver explained. “That leads me up to the favor, but before I get into what the favor actually is, I need to know how you feel about what I just told you. It’s very important I know what you honestly think.”
Well, I guessed that made sense; he’d told me a lot. As I thought about it, I bought myself time by going back to Oliver’s counter buffet and piling more food onto my plate. What did I feel? What did I think? What had I learned from everything he’d said, and what was my answer to Oliver supposed to be?
As I turned the whole story over in my head I could almost feel Oliver’s stare in my back, and I figured he’d want an answer soon, so I brought my plate back with me and sat down.
“That’s why he never showed up for class. After his parents left him with his grandma, right? That’s the reason why he was never present,” I said, nodding once like this was my fin
al answer.
“What?” Oliver asked, almost spitting the word. “What the fuck? No. Oh my god, Marcos.”
Oliver had gone from looking almost angry at what I’d said, to looking confused, and now he was chuckling.
“What? What did I say that was so funny?”
He shook his head and couldn’t talk for a little bit while he stopped laughing and wiped tears—of laughter? Real tears? I couldn’t actually tell.
“Well, Mitch had been worried about what you were going to think, and I was worried you’d hurt his feelings when you eventually found out. We both knew you’d find out, and instead of judging or anything, you just want to know if that explains why he was absent. That’s…” Oliver shook his head again and smiled. “That’s a relief. That’s great. That’s a better reaction than either of us could have hoped for. Thank you.”
I shrugged. I supposed I should have known what kinds of reactions they were afraid of. But it didn’t bother me what Mitch’s job had been, and I probably wouldn’t have even commented on it except Oliver had specifically told me to tell him how I felt, and well, I’d just mostly felt like I understood why Mitch had missed so much class in high school.
Well, maybe, I did have one more question.
“You don’t still visit escorts though, do you? I mean, whatever, right? I get it, I was in the Army and everything—”
“No, not at all. There’s just Mitch and y—um—you know. Yeah. Just Mitch.”
It was my turn to snort. It wasn’t particularly funny. It was actually kind of sad that a little over a week ago, Oliver could have said “there’s just Mitch and you” and it would have been normal. It would have been nice to hear. But with everything that was going on with Pedro and me, neither of us were sure anymore, and so, yeah, maybe it was just Mitch and him. That didn’t make it any less painful to hear, though.
“So, what do I do? How are you going to get this Rob guy to meet us? And most importantly, what do you want to have happen when we do meet him?”
Oliver blinked. “I didn’t say that’s what I wanted. How do you know that’s what I was going to ask?”
“Well, knowing you, you’ve already decided what you want to have happen and that I need to be part of it. You don’t need me to plan or anything. That’s what you’re good at. So you must need someone to be the heavy. That’s what you’re asking me to do, right? I’m either supposed to scare him or rough him up or both, so…which is it?”
Oliver swallowed so hard I heard him. “Yeah. I mean, I want to avoid anything physical, you know, so we don’t get in trouble or anything. But yeah, for Mitch’s sake and so I can keep my job and provide for us and the baby, I was hoping you’d help me send a very strong message,” he explained, but then he dropped his gaze and I realized that despite all his bravado of coming here, he’d been worried I’d say no.
“Did you think I’d refuse?”
Oliver paused for a moment and then nodded slowly. “Sort of, yes. Not because I can’t do it alone. I’d definitely be less effective on my own, sure, but just now your reaction to finding out about Mitch’s past was to just shrug it off, you know? Like it was no big deal.”
“Well,” I said as I went over to check on Pedro and rub at his legs, multitasking while Oliver and I talked. “That’s because it’s not a big deal.”
“I know. I felt the same way. Obviously. But most people wouldn’t. It says a lot about you. It says you’re a good guy, just like I told you over breakfast that time. But that was why I wasn’t sure you’d help because I figured you’re probably too good to do this, to possibly hurt someone.”
No. I wasn’t too good to hurt someone because I’d obviously hurt Mitch and Oliver. I swallowed nearly as hard as Oliver had.
“Conversely, I also know you have enough integrity to help us because, despite everything, we’re still family. That was why I came here. Even though you’re kind of breaking up with us, I still hoped you’d help.”
Breaking up? I’d never said anything about breaking up with them. I’d simply said I needed time and space to think about things. To be fair to Oliver, though, I had said that a week ago, and then hadn’t really tried to go to the ultrasound. It wasn’t a crazy assumption to think I was going to break up with them. Hell, I wasn’t even sure myself what I was going to do about Mitch, Oliver, and the baby going forward.
The only thing I was sure of was that, ever since I was old enough to fight other little kids at recess, when family asks you to come out swinging, you’d better come out swinging.
However, the same fear that had gripped me by the throat when I thought of leaving Pedro long enough to go to the ultrasound started clenching around my throat once more. Something could happen to him, and if I got in trouble for doing this, I could be permanently separated from Pedro. But what was the alternative? Let someone badmouth my baby’s father? Both of my baby’s fathers? What kind of life would the baby have if Oliver lost his job and Mitch was constantly being harassed by this creep?
I couldn’t say no to Oliver’s request. I had to say yes for Mitch, the baby, and for Oliver, himself. For all of us. So I fought back my fear of leaving Pedro, and mentally promised him I’d be right back.
Anyway, Pedro wasn’t alone. In fact, with the nurses, resident doctors and the students on the floor, he was going to be very well-attended.
“We can talk about us breaking up later. Right now, there are more important things to do. So, tell me, how serious are these threats going to be, huh?”
Oliver smiled through tears that didn’t roll down his face but definitely shone in his eyes. He jerked his head to the side to indicate we should leave, that we should talk on the way, so I picked up my things, threw one last look over my shoulder at Pedro, and followed Oliver out the door.
26
Mitch
Alverita’s tamales were no joke. After we’d met with her a few weeks ago, Marcos had been in some sort of surprised stupor that she’d even given me the recipe in the first place. I sat at the cheery kitchen table while she bustled around wiping down the counters and absolutely refusing to let me lift a finger.
“Mijo, no. Sit. You need to rest,” she’d said, shooting a pointed look at my midsection. Instead, she’d led me to her kitchen table and sat me down. It was brightly colored, the yellow walls making it feel homey and well-loved. And then she’d started to feed me.
The tamales were soft and warm and perfect. Morning sickness wasn’t quite here yet, but some foods were already making my stomach feel distinctly churned. However, the tamales were savory and comforting and seemed to steady me. I needed it, being here, absolutely surrounded by Marcos. Marcos permeated every inch of the space. There were photos of him and his brother peppered all over the walls, and I could trace his journey from tiny baby to toddler to the soft eyed little boy I remembered, the tall teenager I’d seen in high school, and then the soldier. And there by his side in nearly all of them, with the exception of the very first ones, was Pedro.
It made me smile, despite how broken things were between us. He looked so happy in all of them. I’d seen that same smile a few times in the last few weeks, but it was still a rare enough occurrence that I could count the times it had happened.
Eventually, Alverita came back to the table and plopped down a pile of different wedding magazines and planning folders. Time for the main event.
“I hope you find something in all of these,” she said, before holding her hands up in a supplicating gesture. “But if you don’t, ni modo, don’t worry, okay? I want it to be just what you both want.”
“Oh, thank you!” I said, trying to give her the warmest smile I could manage. “I’m sure we’ll find something.” I thumbed through photoshoot after photoshoot of beatifically smiling omegas on the glossy pages all decked out in white. In between were articles about anything and everything wedding-related—seating charts, cake decoration, and managing a bridal party. It was all too much. I looked at all of it in a blur. It was impossible to focus on
any of it. My mind felt pulled in a million different directions.
“How big are you thinking?” she asked.
“What?” I asked stupidly.
She tsked her teeth good-naturedly. “The wedding, mijo. How many people?”
She looked so eager, excited about it. It was easy to guess what the right answer was. “Oh, I’d say there’s no point in doing a wedding if it isn’t a big one. What’s the point of a small wedding?” It seemed to do enough to convince her, but I dropped my gaze, trying so hard to keep from crying in her kitchen. Damn pregnancy hormones.
“You know, you’re not fooling me,” a voice said softly.
My head snapped up at that. Oh, shit. Please tell me I didn’t blow this. Please.
“What?”
Alverita put the magazine she’d been looking at to the side and took up both of my hands in both of hers.
“Mi amor, I didn’t raise two boys without learning how to tell when something was wrong,” she said, cinnamon-brown eyes looking straight into my soul.
“Oh, it’s nothing. Nothing important.”
She shook her head at that, as if she refused to accept it.
“We’re family now, Mitch.” She squeezed my hands. “I’m always here to help you.”
I was desperate. I needed someone to talk to, and Alverita was offering to be a kind ear. I couldn’t resist.
“It’s Marcos,” I said quickly before collecting myself a little. “He’s withdrawing again. Ever since this last scare with Pedro he’s been pretty much unreachable. I just don’t know what to do!” I felt the tears welling again, and it was all I could do to hold them back. “I try over and over to reach out to him, but it’s like he’s in his own world.”
Alverita ran her thumb over one of my hands. “When Pedro and Marcos were kids, Marcos was always standing up for his brother. They were so close in age. They were only nine months apart, and he was always so protective of his little brother. He was always hovering over him. He’s not changed.”
