Page 30 of My Begrudging Scent Matches

She says, “They’re great. Very professional.”

“She’s lying, she hated me at first,” Caleb says.

“She did,” Grant agrees. Even Olivia nods. Alice sputters before pulling herself together enough to defend herself.

“It was a misunderstanding,” Alice says. “I thought he didn’t like me. He doesn’t use exclamation points.”

“Horrible bedside manner,” one of Caleb’s dads, Dean, she thinks, remarks solemnly.

“We work in an office, not a hospital. I’m not even client-facing, really,” Caleb says.

“Well, that’s probably because you don’t use any exclamation points,” Molly says. Caleb looks around the table like he’s in an episode of The Twilight Zone.

“Knucklehead son aside, how is it?” Marcus asks.

“Just fine,” Alice says, then pulls a face like she’s weighing the truth of that. “Well, I mean, it’s okay. I like most of the people I work with, but the job itself is . . . it can be demanding.”

“She means her dick boss takes advantage of her kindness,” Olivia translates.

“Constantly,” Grant agrees.

“I’ve been telling her she should find a new job,” Olivia says. “Any marketing agency would be lucky to have her.”

“That is true,” Caleb says.

Alice’s head swivels back and forth between everyone talking about how bad her job is. Part of her has known that this job isn’t sustainable for her, but another, much larger part has told her not to look for something better. Her current job is safe. There aren’t any Alphas or Omegas to sniff out what she is—well, that’s been the case until recently.

She has a set of tasks that she’s good at and a team she likes pretty well. If she went somewhere else it would be less predictable and had the chance to be just as bad, if not worse, in terms of workload. And if it was worse, she wouldn’t even have Lily to hang out and commiserate with.

It all feels like a risk to even think about it too closely.

Sensing Alice’s discomfort, Grant’s mom, Tara asks, “Have you been with the company long?”

“I started when I finished college, so just about four years now.”

The team of parents all wear surprised looks, but Molly is the first to ask, “How old are you, sweetheart?”

“Twenty-six,” Alice says, and Caleb’s fathers pause over their meals.

Molly doesn’t miss a beat, though, and if she’s shocked that a twenty-six-year-old Omega is unmated, she hides it well.

“I loved twenty-six,” Tara says and squeezes her husband’s hand on the table. “The year I met Luke.”

Grant looks at Alice across the table for a beat while the conversation carries on around them to different topics. His eyes tell too much—they’re open and expressive, plaintive and hungry. She chews her food thoroughly, sips at the punch, and eventually, has to look away.

After dinner, there's so, so much pie, followed by a couple of hours of relaxing. The super still hasn’t emailed to say that the heater is fixed, but even if he had, Alice doesn’t know that she could pry herself off of this couch that she seems to sink further into with each passing moment.

An old Christmas Rom-Com plays quietly over the television, one of her favorites, but her eyes grow too heavy to watch. Caleb and Grant’s parents made their exit half an hour ago, while Grant offered to drive Alice’s sister and brother-in-law back to the apartment to pick up some clothes.

Alice, warm beneath a soft heated blanket that smells just like Grant and Caleb, was more than glad she stayed behind.

“Alice,” Caleb whispers, kneeling in front of her.

She’d drifted to sleep briefly, she wasn’t sure how long, but Caleb had changed into plaid pants and a navy sweatshirt in the meantime. His hair is damp, too, and he smells like his tea tree shampoo which makes her lips curl into a small, sleepy smile.

“Hm?”

“I said I brought you some pajamas.” Caleb holds up some clothes.

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