Page 74 of Heat Clinic

“I feel like I’m going to bump into a table and send your grandmother’s priceless heirloom to the floor to shatter. I honestly don’t know how you live with that constant threat looming over you.”

Tom’s eyes widen, and then he drops his head back and laughs. We earn a few curious glances as other shoppers look at our loud display. “What?” Clearly, I should have kept it to myself instead of confiding in him.

When he stops laughing long enough to know that I’m both serious and annoyed, he throws his arm around my shoulders and pulls me against him. He wraps me in a tight hug that squeezes the last of my anxiety out of me along with my breath.

“Luv, most of that stuff was picked out by a designer. I couldn’t even begin to tell you what some of it is, let alone where it came from.”

Oh.Oh, I feel stupid, yet relieved. It’s a weird combination.

“How about this,” he says. “I’ll move any priceless family heirlooms we own onto a higher shelf. Will that set you more at ease?”

It actually would. “Sure.” My belly swoops at his thoughtfulness.

“I feel like I missed something,” Sam says. He’s standing in the dressing room doorway with a dozen articles of clothing draped over one arm.

“Just some redecorating plans,” Tom says. “Are you finished?”

“Yeah. I left the ones I didn’t like in the fitting room,” Sam says.

Tom lets go of me and waves our personal shopper over, and she takes Sam’s choices from him and brings them to the register with the rest of our purchases. We’re shooed out to wait on the sidewalk when I choke over the rising total on the register’s display.

“And that’s just one store,” Sam says in awe.

“I don’t want to think about it.”

Tom joins us and when we ask him where the bags are, he looks at us oddly and explains they’re being delivered to the apartment. “You’ll like this next one,” Tom says, smiling in a way that doesn’t at all put me at ease. Is it another lingerie store? We’ve already been to three. I’m not sure how many crotchless panties one woman needs.

We follow him and cross five crowded blocks and then I see it. “Is that a Nested?” I’ve only seen them in glossy magazine ads and movies. Through the enormous window display, I see the variety of different omega nests they sell and the walls and racks of pillows, blankets, and other accessories.

I go for the door and rip my way inside, pausing to enjoy the way the store smells like warm cashmere and happiness. The store clerks are all omegas, and one comes up to greet me.

“Welcome to Nested. Have you shopped with us before?” he asks.

“No.” I look around, taking it all in. All the nests are set up in staged sets as if two dozen complete bedrooms have been plopped down in the middle of the store. The walls are lined with cubbies stuffed with soft goods in every color and texture and fabric.

I have died and gone to omega heaven.

“What are you looking to do today?” he asks. The name Jamie is written on his black nametag in white script.

“We’re doing a complete redecoration,” Tom says, him and Sam catching up behind me. “Whatever she wants.”

Jamie nods and pulls me deeper into the store, explaining the pros and cons of each style. Some are simple and not much different from a regular mattress with only a slight rolled lip around three of the four edges. Others are round, and a few are half-circles that dip down like a cup. I frown at those. They look super cozy to nest in, but how would you get fucked in them? I shake my head, and we pass them by. He leads me to the nests with canopies, some metal, others wooden or upholstered, and I forget how to breathe.

It’s perfect. I reach out and touch it to make sure it’s real. It’s rectangular like a standard bed, with a high padded wall on three sides. A wrought iron canopy frames it, and white fabric covers the sides, back, and top so it’s closed up like a box. Inside it, someone’s hung soft white string lights back and forth. The blankets and pillows inside are all white on white, but each item has a different texture.

“Can I climb in?” I ask.

Jamie nods. “How else will you know if it’s right?”

I kick my shoes off and hop up, settling in the middle on my back and stare at the ceiling. I sigh, all of my tension leaving me as something tight in my chest unclenches for the first time in forever. The blankets and pillows are wrong, but I’ll fix that. I close my eyes and imagine all of this but in soft, dreamy blues and grays. The string lights will be little stars. I’ll find a pillow shaped like a cute little cloud. There’s gotta be one in here somewhere. Nested haseverything.

I sit up and grab fistfuls of the blankets underneath me and twist them like someone’s going to attempt to pry me out of it by force. “I want this one.”

“Wonderful.” Jaime grabs a paper slip from the clear plastic holder hanging off the bed and hands it to Tom. “What size? It comes in twin, full, queen, king, and Alaska king.”

“The Alaska king would fit our pack best, but I’m not sure it would fit in the room,” Tom says as he studies the card and flips it over to check the dimensions.

I see its quadruple-digit price point and decide I don’t care.Worth it.

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