Page 92 of Knot Just for Show

“I see,” Ursula hums, her eyes narrowing—a little smirk twisting her lips. “So when you’ve been together you’ve been discussing all business, no play?” She plays at a pout, spearing a tuft of greens and a ripe sliver of mango on the tines of her fork daintily.

“That’s actually a very good segue into something that I wanted to talk about with you, our omega, before I really opened up a larger conversation to the rest of the pack.” I clear my throat, doing my best to keep my voice from shaking.

Ursula pulls the fork from between her lips and lays it on the table soberly.

“Oh?” She becomes very still, her hands clasped together in her lap.

“Like you were saying earlier—after the reveal, a couple things sort of came more clearly into focus.” I make my way cautiously, as if the ground might give way at any moment. “I know we talked about my family’s expectations for me in the bubbles, how I didn’t quite meet those expectations.” I can hear the tremulous wobble to my voice, but I continue on—I have long passed the point of no return, there is nothing to do but lay my cards on the table. “While I may not have been either the alpha nor the omega my parents would have wanted, since I’m still the only child they had…” I trail off—my fingers slipping inside the silk lined pocket of my jacket, the tiny hinged velvet box like a teensy second heart, laid over my own. “If you wish it, we can nest at Redthorn—the estate that had been prepared for me and my prospective pack; before it was discovered I was such a…disappointment.” I swallow down my tears, producing the pale blue velvet box—worn and enchanted with over a hundred years of family-heirloom-exchange, opening Ursula’s hand, uncurlingher fingers until it lay flat—and placing the soft, ancient thing in the center of her warm palm.

She looks at me dumbfounded, then at the velvet box in her palm—marveling at it, stroking its domed top gently, as if it were a mouse or a baby bird. Her mouth works soundlessly, Ursula’s eyes snapping back up to fix on me almost accusingly.

“Open it,” I urge her—my heartbeat beating like a timpani under my tongue—in the pulse at my throat.

Ursula opens the box, a ring of brilliant yellow gold fashioned to look like a rose in bloom, its ruby petals captured in carefully placed gold bezels that seemed to rise and fall much like the ridges of a key. Inscribed on the mirror shine inside of the band reads the family name: Ewing.

“Oh my god,” she breathes, barely above a whisper, her eyes snapping back to my face. I can’t tell if she’s horrified or if she’s delighted—neither or both.

“Of course, we don’t have to stay at Redthorn at all if that isn’t what you want. Wherever you want to nest for your first heat, for any heat, that’s where we all want to be. I haven’t even mentioned the possibility to the others yet—because this is a decision that you, our omega, should make,” I explain, praying she’ll say something instead of just staring at the ring in shocked silence.

“I mean—I guess I had anticipated that you were from awell to dofamily—the way you had talked about schools—and possibly by virtue of your profession.” Ursula turns the box over in her hands—her eyes still big as saucers and fixed firmly on the ring. “But this looks straight out of some kind of princess movie, and I’ve never been the kind of girl who gets invited to the ball—I’m just the plucky-best-friend of the girl who gets invited to the ball.” She shakes her head, still disbelieving.

“I’m sorry.” I squirm slightly, shrugging out of my jacket—suddenly aware of how swelteringly hot I am, now that I’mno longer carrying the precious cargo of the ring pressed clandestinely against my chest. “Is that a yes, or is that a no?” I push my Tokyo tortoise shell glasses’ frames up my nose—my heart still in my threat.

Ursula doesn’t answer at first, just turns the ring over in her fingers—before finally slipping the loop of gold and ruby over her left ring finger—holding her hand out for me to see.

“It’s a yes, Lysander. I still can’t quite believe that this…this fairytale is happening to me.” She blinks a few joyful tears from her eyes. “But it’s a ‘yes’ from me.”

Unable to contain my excitement, I lean forward, eager to cover Ursula’s face in fervent kisses—but in my excitement I knock over my crystal wine flute—the high chiming shatter cutting high and sparkling through the air.

I freeze—worried that my clumsiness has created a bad omen.

Ursula, to my surprise—grins from ear to ear, taking my face in her hands.

“I can’t wait for you to meet Mama, Poppy—Dad, Pops—and my brothers.” She beams before grabbing a hold of her small, empty salad plate and dashes it on the floor with a loud crash and an even louder whoop of “Opa!”

Before I can say anything—she crushes my mouth with hers, her unbridled zest for life coursing through me as she does so.

“Already smashing dishes—and you haven’t even met the Laskaris side of the family yet.” She claps happily—the gold and ruby ring winking from its place on her finger.

We arrive back at the villa after the date, wholly unprepared to be greeted by low candlelight on the terrace; tiny floating lanterns dancing across the surface of the pool.

Somewhere inside, an old Xavier Cugat record plays—the sound of sambas and low woodwind instruments carrying through the balmy night air.

“Did you know they were going to do something like this?” Ursula asks quietly as we walk arm in arm toward the stone steps into the swimming pool—two glasses of gently fizzing champagne, the telltale brown cone of a blunt sit on a bamboo tray, a small note folded beside them, a black plastic lighter and acrylic ashtray weighing it down.

I shake my head, reaching down to collect the blunt, ashtray, and lighter; passing the trio to Ursula—who takes the kit gleefully, lighting up almost instantly.

I unfold the paper, the wordsDitch the fancy duds—meet us around back.In artsy scrawl in blue ink.

Dumbly, I realize that I have no idea who the handwriting belongs to. In all of our chatting and business discussions over the past few days—nothing has actually been in writing. It strikes me just how close we are to being relative strangers.

Still, I couldn’t be more sure of what I’m doing as my free hand moves to the buttons of my shirt.

“What does it say?” Ursula exhales a lavender plume of smoke before propping her chin on my shoulder—her eyes scanning the paper.

“I think the boys would like us to join them around back.” I look over the top of the paper—nodding to the trail of gently glowing lanterns on the water’s surface leading around the corner of the villa.

Where one could typically see the nesting room through the floor to ceiling panes of glass straight on through to the opposite leg of the wrap-around pool—there is a gathering of gauzy off-white curtains and soft glowing lights amidst the pockets of night time dark; completely obscuring both the nest as well as its private patio poolside entrance.

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