Page 27 of My Begrudging Scent Matches

“I know, I know. I love you, too. Now, can we sleep on your pull-out tonight? The hotel situation was dire.”

Alice laughs and now notices the suitcase and duffle bag stacked by her building door. “Of course. Fair warning, I have nothing planned, so takeout is on the menu for tomorrow.”

“Takeout is perfect,” Olivia says and turns over her shoulder to where Grant and Johnathan watch the reunion. “What are your plans for the holiday, Grant?”

“I’m planning on setting the record of most slices of pie eaten in one sitting. We would love to have the three of you if you’re free,” Grant says, ever polite, ever the most charming fucking person Alice has ever met.

“Yes!” Olivia says at the same time Alice says, “Maybe.”

Olivia turns to her younger sister, “You heard your favorite co-worker, there will be enough pie to make a contest of eating slices. We have to go.”

Olivia sends Alice a look that she recognizes from their whole lives, the one that says you better do this or so help me I will tell Mom what you did and you will never see the TV again. Alice swallows a sigh and gives a shallow nod. “We’ll be there.”

Grant’s face lights up, and for a moment, Alice thinks the potential anguish of being with her scent matches and their families on Thanksgiving might just be worth it to see him smile like that.

“Great! Okay, wow. Great.” Grant reaches out and squeezes Alice’s shoulder. His touch through three layers of clothing still feels exhilarating for Alice, despite having just made out with him. “Caleb will be thrilled. He’s, um, yeah, he’s going to be excited.”

Alice shivers, whether from the snow or the way Grant’s voice sounds like he just won a prize, she’s not sure.

“We should go inside,” she says and looks to Olivia for help.

“Right. Grant, it was so great to meet you. I am looking forward to seeing how many pieces of pie you can put away.”

“Me, too.” Grant gives Alice one last look before retreating to his still-running car, the exhaust pipe letting out a steady stream of condensation.

Alice bustles Olivia and Johnathan into the building before they can try to talk to Grant more through his open car window, or wave him on his way like parents watching their son drive off to college.

“Is he your scent match?” Jonathan asks because obviously Olivia’s secret keeping can only be expected to go so far.

“One of them,” Alice sighs. “I’ve been trying to keep my distance.”

They stomp up one flight of stairs and then another on their way to the fourth floor.

“God, why?” Jonathan asks, like the thought pains him to even consider. “Don’t you want to be near them?”

“No,” she says, but the churning of her stomach when facing another night alone tells a different story. “I don’t need a pack, I’m only twenty-six.”

Jonathan looks at Alice like she’s unstable. He’s a year younger than her, but he met Olivia two years before when he was halfway through his history master’s program.

Olivia was looking for an Omega, Jonathan was sick of relying on heat clinics every few months, they met on one of the apps, and the rest is history. They love each other deeply and were bonded within two months, married officially a year later. A perfect pack of two.

“Are you at least letting them court you?” Olivia asks as they reach Alice’s door.

“Well I’m not. . . not letting them court me,” she says. Ignoring all of their messages and invitations isn’t exactly being the most receptive to it, but it’s not like she’s turning away the free food that appears on her desk, or sending back the three teeny tiny horse toys that showed up yesterday with her other mini desk animals. “I let Grant drive me home today.”

Olivia deposits her duffle on the ground next to the couch and asks, “And would you have gone to their Thanksgiving if I didn't say yes?”

“Maybe,” she says. “I’m not sure, but yeah, maybe.”

“Have you been sleeping? You look exhausted,” Jonathan says. He, like her sister, has barely a filter when it comes to talking to Alice.

“Probably because she’s ignoring her mates.”

“They’re not my mates.”

“But they are your scent matches,” Olivia says. She hangs her and Johnathan’s coats on the hooks by the front door. Alice hands over her coat, but keeps the red scarf looped around her neck. “Let’s let that piece of information sink in, shall we? Two. Scent. Matches.”

“I know,” Alice drops onto the couch and stuffs her face in her hands. Her tiny one-bedroom doesn’t feel big enough for the three of them and all of her conflicted emotions. “I’m just?—”

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