“You’re giving Fa the money Thomas is paying you to watch his kid, I don’t really see the difference.”
“It’s the principle of the thing.”
There was a soft thump, and when Kieran turned to look at his brother, he saw Desmond with his forehead resting on the table. For a moment, he worried that Desmond might have fainted, except then he saw Desmond lift his head up and bang it down on the table again.
“Stop that!” he said, alarmed.
“You are entirely too hung up on principles,” Desmond said, straightening. “Do you love Thomas?”
Kieran turned his back on Desmond again – but his hand was shaking too much to measure the chocolate chips.
“Kieran,” said Desmond, his tone much less aggressive now. “Do you love him?”
“Yes,” whispered Kieran.
“Do you think he loves you?”
Kieran looked at the clock. Almost 8pm. “I don’t know.”
“You need to talk to him.”
Kieran watched the second hand creep around the face of the clock. “I can’t. Not yet. Not until I’ve paid Mom and Fa back.”
Desmond sighed. “You are such a moron.”
The insult was enough to break the spell; Kieran’s hand still shook, but there were cookies to bake. “Yeah, well—”
“Do you know what Fa’s doing with that money you pay him every week? He’s putting it in a savings account with your name on it. Your name, Kieran. Not Vera’s. Yours. Every cent of it belongs to you, he hasn’t touched a penny. And whenever you get your stupid thick skull out of your ass and come home, that money’s going to be waiting for you to do whatever the hell you want with it. Vera or no.”
Kieran went still.
Every penny… every paycheck… every payment. Kieran could see it, so clearly – Mark Corvey picking up the envelopes of cash, and walking straight from The Coffee Pot down the road to the bank, where he’d deposit it immediately.
“I…” he started, and then couldn’t continue. He turned around and stared at his brother.
Desmond had never been able to tell a lie with a straight face in his life. One look was all it took to confirm that he wasn’t telling a lie just then, either.
“You need to talk to Thomas,” said Desmond, and there was something to his voice, something rock-solid and stern. Something that told Kieran that he had to shut up and listen. “You can’t just assume, Kieran. Assuming what someone feels about you – that’s the stupidest thing you could ever do.”
Desmond’s hand rubbed the gentle swell of his belly; Kieran watched the movement over and over, and remembered the way they’d run together: Desmond and Cameron and Mavis. The three of them, until there were only two, and Cameron was the one left alone.
“Desmond,” he said, slowly, but Desmond’s face was impassive.
“You’ll talk to him?” asked Desmond.
Kieran tore his eyes from Desmond’s hand and looked up at his face. Desmond looked… hopeful. Still gaunt, still tired, but the dark circles under his eyes weren’t so ominous anymore, and there was color in his cheeks.
“Yeah,” said Kieran. “I will.”
Desmond smiled, and settled back in his chair. “Good,” he said. “Now bring your unborn nephew a cookie.”
Kieran snorted. And did.
Chapter Twelve
Saturday morning dawned clear and bright. Thomas woke, once more staring across the bed to the empty pillow next to him.
The sunlight streamed in through the windows, bright and beaming, through the cracks in the curtains, illuminating the empty space. No trace of Kieran. No trace of Felicity.
Jessie and Connie were awake and moving around. Jessie tumbled up and down the stairs, while Connie called reminders for her to be a bit quieter. Thomas could already smell something that might have been breakfast cooking – bacon and eggs and God knew what else, in what was undoubtedly Connie’s attempt to bring a little normalcy to what would be an incredibly emotional day.
“Fa!” Jessie shouted from the other side of the door. “Are you awake?”
“Yes,” called Thomas, and pushed himself out of the bed. He thought he caught a whiff of Kieran’s scent – only the faintest hint, but enough that it made Thomas pause and close his eyes, remembering the taste of his lips, soft curve of his hip under Thomas’s hand.
The tightness surrounding Thomas’s fingers, the way the slick dripped out and…
“Aunt Connie says breakfast is ready!” Jessie shouted.
Thomas groaned and went to open the door. Jessie was still in her pajamas, bouncing from foot to foot, her hair pulled back in puffballs. “Did she send you up here to tell me?”
“Yes,” said Jessie cheerfully, and grabbed Thomas’s hand. “Come on, come on, let’s go!”
The kitchen smelled like burned toast. The sink was full of used bowls, spoons, and knives. Peanut butter was smeared on a counter, clear evidence of Jessie’s attempt to help. Connie frantically stirred a pan of eggs, and sprinkled in cheese in hopes of trying to save them. The light seemed fuzzy, as if the entire scene was straight out of a hazy memory in an old black-and-white movie.
“You know,” said Thomas, eyeing the eggs and toast and cold coffee pot, “today’s a special day. I think we should go to The Coffee Pot for breakfast.”
“We don’t have time,” said Connie, clearly frazzled, and she started to serve up the eggs. “Jessie and I have to be at Mom and Dad’s by ten, and it’s already eight, her hair’s a disaster, we’re not even dressed….”
“Then why don’t you both get dressed, and I’ll just run and pick it up?” suggested Thomas. “I can be back in half an hour.”
“I already made eggs,” said Connie, and put them out on the table. “Come on, Jess, time to eat!”
Thomas looked longingly at the coffee pot.
“You could turn it on, you know,” Connie reminded him. “I know you know how.”
“You didn’t have to make breakfast today. I could run and pick something up.”
“That’s not the point. It’s…” Connie frowned; Thomas could almost see her thinking. “I just… I wanted one last normal morning, you know? Where I cook eggs and toast and bacon – oh shit, I forgot the bacon.”
Thomas watched as Connie spun to the oven and yanked it open, revealing a sizzling, smoking tray of bacon. Connie began to cough as she pulled it out, and Thomas realized the strange fuzzy light was because of the smoke in the air.
“I think it’s okay,” said Connie, dropping it on the stovetop. “You like it better when it’s burnt, right?”
“Everyone likes it better when it’s burnt,” said Thomas patiently.
Connie dumped the bacon onto a paper-lined plate, and turned to carry it to the table – but not before she leaned over and switched the coffee pot on.
“There,” she said. “But you’d better learn how to do it yourself tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow,” said Thomas dryly, and dodged when Connie swatted at him.
The eggs were only a little bit dry; the toast was more or less unsalvageable, and the smoky, burnt bacon was delicious. Thomas was licking his fingers when he remembered the coffee.
It had already gone cold. Thomas stared at the pot, and wondered how the hell coffee could go cold so fast.
Thomas glanced at the clock. He could go, and be back in twenty minutes. All he wanted was coffee. Just coffee. Connie might not even notice.
“Connie,” he called over his shoulder. “I’m just going to step out and get the paper.”
“Fa,” said Jessie, tugging on his sleeve. She held up a card full of bobby pins. “Help?”
Thomas sighed, and abandoned the plans for a surreptitious trip to The Coffee Pot. It was only coffee, after all. It wasn’t that he was looking for anyone – anything else.
It didn’t stop with Jessie’s hair. Connie couldn’t find her shoes; Jessie couldn’t find her tights; Connie had misplaced her car keys; Thomas’s mother called
no less than three times to make sure they remembered some bit or bob that Connie had promised to bring.
Thomas was just beginning to see the light as Connie and Jessie were heading out the door – ten minutes late, of course, but with every hair and shoe and ribbon in place.
And then the phone rang.
“Hello, Thomas,” said Brent, Connie’s soon-to-be mate on the other end of the line. “Connie still there?”
“Just stepping out the door now,” said Thomas, and held the phone away so he could call her back. “Connie! It’s Brent!”
“No!” hissed Connie. “I can’t actually talk to him!”
“That’ll make the marriage night a bit complicated, won’t it?” asked Thomas dryly.
“You know prospective mates don’t meet before the contract is signed! It’s bad luck.”
“Connie,” said Thomas patiently. “You’re betas.”
“I’ll see him in a few hours, it can wait,” said Connie firmly, and was hustling Jessie out the door when she called over her shoulder. “Tell him I love him!”
Thomas rolled his eyes and brought the phone back to his ear. “I’m not repeating that.”
“No need,” said Brent, and he sounded amused. “I was calling to talk to you, actually – are you busy? I could use some help here.”
Thomas thought longingly of The Coffee Pot, and bleakly of Brent’s apartment, clear on the other side of town.
“I was going to get some coffee, we could meet there.”
“Yeah, that’s the thing,” said Brent, a bit sheepishly. “My brother’s car died this morning; we’re sort of stuck. And we have to pick up the tuxes.”
“Tuxes,” repeated Thomas. “Connie’s having you wear tuxes?”
“There are some things you just don’t question, man,” said Brent, and Thomas had to agree.
* * *
It didn’t matter, Thomas told himself firmly, as he drove Brent and his brother on the various errands that needed to be done before the marriage that afternoon.
Kieran wouldn’t have been at The Coffee Pot anyway.
Yesterday was meant to be his last day. He would probably have been upstairs, sleeping late, or watching television, or even sitting at a table, pretending to be a customer himself.
“Thomas,” said Brent from the passenger’s seat. “Green light.”
“Oh, right,” said Thomas, as traffic began to move through the intersection. “Sorry. Thinking.”
“Noticed,” said Brent, and stretched out his long legs as much as he could in the small car. “Explain to me again why you own a clown car instead of an SUV or something?”
“Because unlike other alphas, I’m not compensating for something,” said Thomas, and Brent’s brother, Travis, let out a hoot of laughter from the backseat. “And because it’s hell to find parking for those things at construction sites. There’s never enough space.”
“This is all they drive in Europe anyway,” said Travis. “Better get used to the lack of leg room, Brent.”
“Hell no, we’re on an Army base. Nothing but Humvees for me,” said Brent. He glanced at Thomas again. “So. Who is she?”
“Hmm?”
“The lady you’re bringing to the marriage,” pushed Brent. “Connie said you were bringing a date.”
“She’s not a date. She’s a friend from work.”
“Dude,” said Brent. “You’re dressing up. She’s dressing up. There is dinner and I think Connie expects us to dance. It’s a date.”
Thomas gritted his teeth. “It’s not a date.”
“Suit yourself, man,” said Brent with a shrug.
“She’s a beta.”
Brent held up his hands. “I don’t judge.”
“Yeah,” agreed Travis. “Everyone should take a walk on the mild side sometime.”
The tires screeched as Thomas hit the brakes abruptly. “Get out.”
“That would mean more if it wasn’t your parents’ house anyway,” said Brent, as Travis climbed out and circled around to the trunk, where they’d stored the tuxes and other things. “Look, I don’t mean to rag on you, but… Connie’s worried about you being alone, you know?”
“I won’t be alone,” said Thomas. “I’ve got Jessie.”
“Yeah, I don’t think that’s the company she’d like for you,” said Brent. “You sure this beta lady is just a friend? ‘Cause that look you had in your eye earlier – I’m not an alpha, but I know a few. That wasn’t a look they get when they’re just thinking about friends.”
I know what this is, Kieran had said. And I know what this isn’t.
Thomas took a breath. “We’re just friends. Connie should stop worrying.”
“All right, man,” said Brent, and reached for the door. “See you in a few.”
“Hey,” said Thomas, as Brent shut the door. Thomas pushed the button to roll it down, and Brent leaned back in. “You know my sister’s a harridan, right? If you want to run, I’m happy to help.”
Brent grinned at him. “Nah, man. She’s a harridan, but she’s still mine.”
Brent might have been a beta – none of the pheromones to drive him, none of the bonding that would tie him to Connie for the rest of their lives, a constant reminder of their intent to stay together.
But Thomas recognized the way he said it: Mine. Exactly as if the love he felt was just the same as what Thomas had felt for Felicity.
Or Kieran?
Before Thomas could continue that thought, however, Brent slammed his hand on the top of the car for good measure, breaking Thomas’s line of thought. Thomas took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, as Brent and Travis carried the tuxes and boxes up the walk to the Whittaker parents’ house.
Somewhere in the house, Connie was getting ready, Jessie was spinning like a top….
And Kieran was there, Thomas realized. Helping. As if he was part of the family.
The thought was… good.
Thomas waited until Brent and Travis reached the door before pulling away. He’d have just enough time to shower, and dress, before it was time to pick up Nora.
* * *
Nora looked stunning.
“You’re on time,” she said as she reached for her coat.
Nora’s hair was swept up in a neat chignon, without a single bobby pin or clasp to be seen. Thomas, who had used up nearly the entire card of bobby pins in an effort to control Jessie’s curls, had no idea that such a thing was even possible.
She wore pearl earrings, and a pearl necklace that rested on her collarbone and gave additional length to her long, smooth neck.
Her dress, though… inky black, velvet and lace, with a neckline that was low without actually displaying anything except two small freckles, just visible when Nora turned the right way. Thomas couldn’t tear his eyes away from the freckles.
There had been a time when freckles might have been his undoing – and certainly would have derailed any plans to attend Connie’s marriage on time. Now, they had no effect whatsoever – and that in itself was worthy of consideration.
“Connie is going to kill me if we’re late,” said Thomas, pulling his eyes back up to Nora’s as she adjusted her hair over the collar of her coat. “I think I’m underdressed. Brent is apparently wearing a tux.”
“Mmm,” said Nora, eyeing his grey suit, white shirt, and the finely knotted tie. “Did Connie lay that out for you?”
“She did, but….”
“One change,” decided Nora, and then her hands were at his neck. He could feel her cool fingertips as she unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt. It brought her right in front of him, standing closer than Thomas could remember anyone standing in a very long time – anyone but Kieran, that was.
He wasn’t sure he liked Nora standing there instead.
Thomas tried not to swallow as Nora fussed with the tie, and finally she pulled it through his collar, but didn’t step back. “There. It was too fussy, as if you’d come straight from work. Now you look debonair and dashing
. An alpha on the prowl.”
“At a marriage between two betas?” asked Thomas dubiously.
“Where better?” said Nora mischievously, and she finally stepped away. “No competition.”
Thomas snorted, and held out his arm. “If you’re done making fun of my animal instincts?”
Nora slipped her arm through his, and rested her other hand on his forearm. “For now,” she said lightly, and followed him to the car.
It wasn’t a long drive, and as soon as Thomas pulled away from Nora’s apartment building, they were deep in discussion about one of the new buildings going up across the street from her, which Nora had been watching carefully as it grew, convinced that corners were being cut. They continued the discussion as they walked up the street to Thomas’s childhood home – already filled with cars, not to mention all of the neighbors who’d allowed their driveways to be used by guests for the day. It was probably the intensity of their conversation that kept most of the other guests from bothering them as they went through the back gate and into the garden, where the grass was thankfully dried out from the previous day’s rainfall, and where rows of chairs were waiting, facing the corner where the marriage would actually take place.
“A bit odd,” murmured Nora as they took their seats near the front, just behind where Thomas’s parents would sit. “To have so many people here.”
Curiosity, no doubt, said Felicity cheerfully from Thomas’s other side. She was wearing a dress Thomas recognized, from their heavily chaperoned meeting just before their bonding. White, of course, but with small, intricately embroidered flowers throughout the bodice. Felicity had loved the dress. Thomas had loved to take it off of her. Not many people get to see a bonding ceremony outside of family, after all – and this is the closest they’re likely to get.
“Connie and Brent have many friends,” said Thomas. “And it is meant to be a going-away party afterwards.”
“Yes, but… I should think they’d want this bit to be private.”
Felicity chuckled and turned in her seat. Oh, Thomas. Look.
Thomas turned, just as the rest of the guests turned in their seats, and saw Jessie coming down the aisle.
His heart nearly stopped.
The Omega Nanny Page 18
