Climbing into my car after a far too tearful goodbye filled with promises to stay in touch was more difficult than I imaged. The new adventure before me became my beacon as I drove out of the city. I knew the general location of my new home but had never actually been there. I pictured it with lots of trees and flowers. Who knew, maybe I was right.
Wyatt and I had talked on the phone a few times since the interview. The first call was very practical: when will you arrive, what are you bringing, do you want a new bed, that kind of thing. The second call became a bit more personal. What are your favorite foods, are there any particular books you want to have around for reading time, which he knew from my interview was my favorite thing. By the last phone call, it felt almost talking to a friend. How was your day? Do you have anything coming up in your courses? That kind of thing.
At first, I thought it odd, but with each call I felt more and more at ease with Wyatt. That could only help with Chloe’s adjustment. Not only was she losing her grandmother figure who helped raise her, she was also getting a live-in nanny. That was a whole lotta change for anyone, especially someone as young as she was.
Not going to lie, I looked forward to his calls, hearing about an animal he helped, something Chloe did that was adorable or, in some cases, not, what he had for dinner. I needed to be careful, because the more I knew him the more I liked him and while that might foster a good working relationship, it could also destroy one, especially if I got the same physical reaction from him as I did the first time we met.
I took a chance and talked to Naheed about it. He was an alpha but not in the crazy need to be in control asshole way some alphas got when in positions of power, and holding the purse string was power, even if you never knew it from talking to him. He reassured me that being around so many omegas and so few alphas for so long would make his scent call to me more than if I was in a ‘normal’ job.
He also suggested I take heat suppressants. I embarrassingly admitted that I already did. If I had my way, I’d never have a heat again. Who needs a blasted heat if nothing could ever come of it? And double bonus, heat ends quickly if you get knocked up and drags on if you don’t. That was the worst of it. The heat suppressants I currently took, seemed to work better than the last ones, but it still wasn’t great. I had a month and a half to worry about it and what it might mean for my job.
Wyatt knew I was an omega going in, so heat was to be expected. With his crazy schedule and all, I hadn’t stopped to think about what that would look like. The suppressants were good, but far from great. I still had a solid two days I needed to be alone and they made me grumpy as shit for a full week afterward. I guess we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.
First I had to actually find the place, move in, help Chloe adjust to life with me around all the time even when dad was home, and finish a ton of work for my course. You know, the normal stuff. I inhaled deeply, trying to thwart the bout of anxiety I feared was coming. Change and I were not the best of friends even though I wanted us to be.
Before I knew it, my exit appeared and I was almost there. I sighed in relief as I turned into the neighborhood that would become my home. Trees, flowers, kids playing. Houses were close but not too close that you’d hear everyone’s business and each of them was different. No cookie cutters, like in so many neighborhoods where I grew up. I was going to like it here just fine.
The house number I was looking for came up quickly and I pulled into the driveway. Turning off the ignition, I opened the door and climbed out. I barely took two steps before a short ball of energy barreled at me, grabbing onto my leg immediately.
“You’re here for me!” She was bouncing on her toes, still holding on. I placed my hand on the top of the car in an attempt to stay upright. Wyatt had been right. She was amazing.
“I am. My name’s Oliver.”
“I know. Daddy told me. I’m three. I remember things.” She looked up at me with the biggest brown eyes I’d ever seen. I could see why she had her dad so wrapped around her finger. If I wasn’t careful, I’d be next. Who was I kidding? I already was.
“I’m sure he will keep that in mind, buttercup.” Wyatt’s voice pulled me from my gaze, the timbre exactly as I remembered it in person, even though it somehow got lost over the phone. “Maybe you should let the nice man go so we can show him his room.”
She didn’t need to be told twice. She grabbed my hand and pulled me into the house that would become my home, if only for a while.
10
Wyatt
"Daddy, Daddy!" I could hear the bounce in Chloe's voice. Oliver had arrived.
She had been bugging me every day for the last two weeks, "When is Oliver going to get here? Does he like to play puzzles? Will he have tea parties with me like Ms. Helen? Is Oliver coming today, Daddy?" It was a good sign that she should handle the change fairly well with as excited as she was, but the questions had become exhausting. This morning, I had finally been able to tell her, "Oliver will be here today."
Even now that the wait was over, I wasn't sure that had been the best idea. She had been bouncing off the walls as if I'd let her drink a whole gallon of Kool-Aid on her own. I felt a little guilty admitting it, but I almost wished I had asked Helen to watch her for part of the day, just so I could have a break. But she was finishing up the last chores and packing before she left in a week. She would have done it to help me, but I knew her time was limited, and she was busy.
It was going to be nice having Oliver around.
I wiped my hands on a towel. I was in the middle of cutting vegetables for dinner, but we weren't on any timetable to eat. I met them in the living room before Chloe dragged the poor man all the way into the kitchen. His scent reached me before I saw him. That wood cabin smell was building some serious fantasies of vacationing in the mountains sometime soon. "Welcome to our home, Oliver. Now, it's your home as well."
Chloe was clinging to Oliver's arm and she jumped up then lifted her feet as she fell, jerking his arm to the floor.
"Chloe! Be nice to Oliver." It was so strange smelling an omega in the house again. I had wondered if Oliver’s scent had simply been intensified by the smallness of the office I had interviewed him, but even here in my open, airy house, his scent was unmistakable.
"She's fine," Oliver laughed, swinging his arm, making Chloe squeal.
"Be careful," I warned. "She'll want you to do that your every waking moment."
"Oh, I'm well familiar with the focus of three-year-olds." Our eyes met with smiles of indulgence and understanding. I could see she was already wrapping him as firmly around her finger as she had me.
"Hey now, I hired you to be the tough one. Don't let the little tyrant realize she's at your beck and call," I teased him.
Oliver set Chloe on the floor softly and knelt to her eye level. "You're not going to boss me around, are you Chloe?"
She smiled bashfully and tilted her head.
"That's probably a yes, but I'm going to pretend it's a no." He stood to his feet and Chloe started tugging on his arm again. "Can I help with anything?"
"I'm actually just about to throw everything in a casserole dish and let it bake, so there isn't much left to do. Why don't you let Chloe give you the tour? I can help you unload your car after dinner."
"Did you hear that, Chloe? Your daddy wants you to show me the house. Can you do that?"
Chloe jumped again. "I wanna show you my room!"
"Let's go, then!" As Chloe dragged him toward the stairs, he turned back to Wyatt. "If we get lost in the vortex of little girl toys, will you call up when dinner is ready."
I waved him out. "Of course. Enjoy!"
It was quiet now that Chloe wasn't dogging my ever step with questions about Oliver, but I could hear the high babble of her constant ramble and the occasional rumble of Oliver's lower voice. I tossed everything in as quickly as I could, then snuck up to watch them through her open door.
Oliver sat cross-legged, draped with something frilly and pink, hold
ing a tiny teacup with his pinky finger held out while Chloe orchestrated the actions of their fellow tea party attendees, the chosen of her favorite stuffed animals. I couldn't have suppressed my smile if I wanted to. She was such a bright soul, like her mother. Neither of them ever met a stranger. I preferred the company of animals. And Chloe. Though so far, Oliver hadn’t hit any of my annoyance factors, so maybe he would join that short list.
I watched for several minutes unnoticed before I slipped away to set the table.
"Here, Chloe, don't just pick through for the chicken bits, you have to eat your vegetables." It was a constant fight getting anything green into my little girl.
She frowned at me and took another defiant bite of chicken.
"Mmm," Oliver jumped in. "The vegetables are my favorite." He took a big spoonful of the vegetables and chewed it with gusto.
Chloe eyed him shrewdly. "Daddy, Oliver can have all my veg-tables."
Oliver almost spit out his mouthful and I burst into a gut-wrenching laugh.
"She got you there, Oliver."
He wiped his mouth. "I should have seen that coming. Even working with them every day, I forget how quick kids can be."
My laughter faded, though the ache of it lingered in my belly as I took a bite myself. How long had it been since I had laughed that hard? It had been so long ago I couldn't even remember. It looked like there were more benefits to hiring a nanny than I had originally thought.
"So what is the plan for tomorrow?" Oliver asked.
"Well, I have a few appointments at the clinic in the morning, and I would like to show you around over there, but other than that, the schedule is wide open."
"Oh, that reminds me. What do you want to do about taking Chloe in the car? Do you want me to use your car, or do you have a second car seat for my car?"
"You're absolutely welcome to take my car, but I do have a second car seat that's still in Helen's car. We can go over and get it from her tomorrow."
"So what is there for little misses to do in this town? Is there a park, or kids' days anywhere?"
I was embarrassed to draw a blank. All of my time with Chloe was here at home or at the clinic. If she went anywhere, it was with Helen.
"Don't worry, I'll find something," Oliver assured me.
"We can ask Helen when we go over to get the car seat, though."
He smiled. "Thanks."
Oliver's question highlighted something I hadn't realized I was missing with Chloe. I didn't want to add too much change to her life, but I had to make hanging out with her outside of home and work a higher priority.
11
Oliver
Wyatt headed over to the clinic early after someone called about their dog eating a sock. I hadn’t realized what a common injury that was or that it often involved surgery. If Chloe managed to convince her dad to get her a puppy, a topic she brought up at least seventy-two million times at dinner the night before, then I needed to be extra vigilant about making sure socks weren’t randomly lying around.
“Good morning, Chloe.” Chloe stumbled in half asleep, clutching her blue caterpillar stuffy. “Hungry?”
Instead of answering my question, she ran to me and gave me a great big bear hug. “Where daddy?” she asked.
“He’s at work already.” There was no need for her to know why, although if she did get her puppy I might need to use it as a lesson. “Would you like some cereal?” Being our first morning together, I had no idea what she liked, but cereal seemed to be a universal favorite and easy.
“No.” She shook her head. “I want eggs.” She put her caterpillar down on a chair and pushed a step stool designed for kids to not fall off the sides, up to the sink and began to wash her hands.
“Dippy or scrambled?” I watched her dry her hands and push the stool over to the refrigerator.
“Scrambled with toast,” she announced as she swung open the top doors and climbed up to grab the carton of eggs. She wasn’t being demanding in her choices, she was planning on creating them and, from the looks of things, it wasn’t the first time.
“Do you want to help?” I chuckled as she placed the eggs on the table and grabbed a small metal mixing bowl and whisk. And so our first breakfast making adventure began.
“Daddy lets me mix the eggs, but says I’m too little to crack them myself.” My heart warmed to the thought of Wyatt and Chloe cooking in the kitchen together. I had to be careful not to step on his toes by doing anything too cool in the kitchen with her if that was their thing. Those daddy daughter memories were worth gold and I didn’t want to diminish that in any capacity.
“You got shells in it.” She assessed my egg mixture. I grabbed a spoon from the drawer and made a few pathetic attempts to fish them out before she offered her two cents. “Don’t use a spoon, Oliver. Daddy always uses a shell.” She pointed to the pile of discarded shells. I picked one up and sure as shit, it attracted those little pieces to it like a little egg shell magnet.
“Whoa, your dad is a smart man. I had no idea that worked.” I didn’t admit that more than once, I’d been known to throw out my eggs and begin again after egg shell removal fail.
Chloe whisked the eggs as I got the pan ready and as I turned her mixture into buttery bits of eggy goodness, she placed the bread in the toaster for me to start. Chloe was amazingly well versed in the kitchen for someone so young. Visions of her preparing dinners when Wyatt came home filled my head.
“Here you go.” I placed a plate of food in front of her after everything was hot and ready. “Butter or jelly?” She had placed both on the table.
“Butter and cut it pretty.”
Cut it pretty. What did that even mean? I took my best stab at it and cut it diagonally.
“That’s not pretty.” She sighed as she picked up her fork.
“This?” I asked as I cut it again, this time wavy.
“No.” She shook her head with a smile before shoveling some of the eggs in her mouth.
“This?” I turn one into my best shark teeth impression.
As her laughter belted out, the last of my insecurities over taking the job fled. Sure, I still needed to figure out a way to deal with the insane attraction I felt for Wyatt and the more I knew him the more it wasn’t just attraction, but other than that it was perfect.
“You’re silly, Oliver.” She ate the shark in one bite, growling as she did. I didn’t know if she were being a dinosaur or another shark, but it was adorable.
“Maybe,” I conceded. “But I sure make pretty toast.”
Breakfast continued with laughter paired with a few stories of food she made with her dad. It was easy to see that he was as much her world as she was his.
After breakfast, we ventured out on a walk that turned into a trip to my favorite place, the library. Turned out, they had an over-the-top children’s library from some endowment and story hour was every day at ten. We stayed long after the story was over, reading books, coloring fairy tale worksheets and adding glitter to them. Whoever vacuumed that place needed a raise because three-year-olds and glitter were a recipe for sparkly everything, including the carpet. By the time we left we were both good and hungry.
Across the street from the library was a Café Om. I’d been a far too frequent visitor when I was with my alpha, less so during my time at Omega House.
“Do you want a fairy snack?” I asked as it caught my eye. I had a friend from school whose mother was from the UK and anytime they put sprinkles on something it became fairy this or that. Fairy toast was my favorite.
“You should never eat food from a fairy,” she scolded. It was adorable the way she went into protective mode. I’d put money on her being an alpha like her dad. “Everyone knows that.” I held a very vague memory of reading a fairy tale about it, but kept my lack of knowledge to myself. She didn’t need to know my ineptitude when it came to mythology.
“How about a cup filled with whipped cream and sprinkles?”
Her eyes lit up before she schooled her face a
nd asked, “Does a fairy make it?”
“Naw. Just a barista at Café Om.” I pointed to the building before offering her my hand.
“I want a big one.”
“Deal,” I agreed before we crossed the street.
It was later than I thought and we grabbed a sandwich with our drinks or, in her case, whipped cream. It wasn’t long before she had the baristas wrapped around her finger, just as she had me. There was something about her that drew people in. By the time we left they were all saying good-bye to her by name.
I had lived in the city for so long, I had forgotten how nice it was to be able to walk on the sidewalks without people pushing past, horns honking in your ears, and people trying to sell you counterfeit pretty much everything. Walking home with Chloe was such a magical time. We sang songs, collected a few leaves and talked.
“You know what time it is?” I asked as we made our way to the stoop.
“You’re going to say nap time.” She pouted. It wasn’t her first time to the rodeo.
“I am.” We made our way in the house and kicked off our shoes in the mud room.
“I’m not tired,” Chloe whined, even as she made her way to her bedroom.
“But I am soooooo tired.” I yawned with such exaggeration I feared I went too far. “I can barely stay awake. Can you pretend to take a nap so I can too?”
“For you?” She looked at me with the skepticism of someone well beyond her years. Next time, more subtle yawn—check.
“For me.”
“Fine, but I’m not sleeping.” We reached her doorway and she gave me one more look before climbing into bed.
And true to her word, she didn’t sleep…at least for the first two minutes. Chloe’s nap lasted a solid two hours, which allowed me to get all of my course work done and I read a few chapters of a new book from the library, which I pulled out after I admitted to myself that I would sit there obsessing over Wyatt if I didn’t distract myself. Why couldn’t he be an old troll with smelly breath and a comb over. Or better yet, why couldn’t he be gay?
His Manny Omega_M/M Non-Shifter Alpha/Omega MPREG Page 4
