Page 1 of One Last Chance

Chapter 1

Dayton

The second I finally complete the dreaded data analysis I’ve been struggling with all day, I hear my phone chime, and already know deep inside my soul it’s from Ma. Slumping in the chair, I groan and swirl around, taking the phone out of my pocket.

As expected, I’m faced with another thrilling prospect.

Good news. I’ve set up another blind date for you!

My eyes roll to the back of my head, almost before my brain even comprehends the entire message. I know she’s trying to help, and I did agree to ittechnically, but this is getting tiresome. And depressing. Like keeping around a comatose patient with no chance of survival. At some point, it’s time to give up. Do the humane thing.

I know his mother. He’s a well-established alpha open to see you. He’s handsome, too. I think this time it might work out!

Call me when you can to set up the date. No time to waste!!

Sliding even further down, I rub my forehead. Her gentle hint that my time is running out only adds to the headache caused by a long day of cleaning data and making PowerPoints.

I get it, Ma. My mortality and the ticking biological clock are no longer something I can ignore, even without your reminders.

I too expected to be somewhere else at thirty-one. In a long-term relationship, with a kid even… Instead, I’m losing any desirability and chances to find someone with each passing day, like an overripe banana no one wants to pick up in the damn grocery store.

“What’s with that long face?”

I yelp and nearly fall off the chair, startled by the voice above me.

Smacking my hand over my chest, I look up at Joane, who stands leaning against my cubicle with an apologetic grimace. “My god! Can’t sneak up on me like this. You’re going to give me a heart attack.”

“Sorry about that,” she blurts out. Anxious energy dances behind her wide-set brown eyes.

Ever since she transferred here, this poor woman has been trying to make friends with me. It’s no wonder, considering this office is filled with fifty-something-year-olds, and we are the only younger people in the department. I’ve been too busy with establishing a new large client to give her much attention, though. Even after she gave me her last cup of coffee that one time we were stuck here working overtime.

“It’s fine. I thought I was the only one still here,” I say with a smile, putting the phone on the desk next to me. With a sigh, I join my hands over my stomach and turn fully to face her. I guess some social interaction would do me good. All I’m seeing when I close my eyes are numbers and tables.

“Oh, well…you know how I do. Don says I’m still messing up the extracting. He wanted me to go through all of my files again to make sure there are no errors he has to fix tomorrow.” Her body language eases as she crosses her arms over her chest and leans into the cubicle wall.

I can tell she’s been itching all day to talk to someone, so I push my own issues aside to give her a sympathetic response. “Don’s a lazy bastard. He should’ve retired a decade ago, the dinosaur,” I say with a chuckle and get one back from Joane.

“Anyhow, I noticed you’ve been really low today. You didn’t even go to lunch,” she says, brows drooping with worry. Leaning in, she lowers her voice and makes this ridiculously awkward expression, “Is it…you know, your heat period? Are you not feeling well?” Her voice is careful, as if she’s speaking aboutsome sensitive topic she doesn’t want me to get offended over. She also isn’t very successful at hiding the curious undertones.

I have to work hard to suppress a smirk clawing its way onto my lips.God, some betas are absolutely clueless. I reckon she didn’t grow up in a very diverse area.

“Er, no,” I say with a light chuckle. Seeing the panic on her face, I quickly raise my arms to come off as easygoing as possible. “Nothing like that. Just wasn’t hungry. I’ve been having a little existential crisis today is all.”

I’m usually the last one to complain about my life to people I barely know, but the girl has been looking for an excuse to chat for weeks, and as sad as that fact is, I don’t really have anyone else to talk to besides family. These past few years, every one of my friends from college slowly drifted away. They started families, moved to bigger cities, changed careers… Hardly anyone still checks up with the sad, single, boring ‘ol me.

Before I even blink, Joane is already pulling a chair from the nearby cubicle to set it in front of me, eyes fixated on me with a caring, engaged intensity. “Oh,how so?” she asks while she sits.

A part of me recoils at unloading my petty problems onto this young woman, but maybe the feedback of an oblivious beta isexactlywhat I need.

“The usual,” I say with a self-deprecating chuckle, resting my chin against my balled fist, elbow balancing on the armrest. “Just turned thirty-one, still single, not one stable relationship in years, with my mothers constantly behind my back trying to set me up with a bunch of alphas who’ll end up being incompatible anyway…”

Joane nods attentively and purses her lips. “Well, thirty-one isn’t old at all!” She sounds truly well-meaning in her eager attempt at comfort, so I smile and tilt my head.

“Itisfor a male omega.”

“Oh,” she blurts, a faint blush to her already rosy cheeks. I can’t blame her for being ignorant—they teach the basics of venus sexes at school, but unless someone like her has close friends who are like that, she won’t have any idea about the small ways my life differs from hers. Actually, the only betas I’ve ever met who were scarily knowledgeable about our biology were those strange fetishists…

I wave my hand aloofly. “It’s fine.” She doesn’t strike me as discriminatory or freaked out, which is great in my book. “Male omegas can have trouble getting pregnant. Anything over thirty, and most people who care for that sort of thing basically see you as a geriatric. That’s what it’s considered in medicine, too—‘geriatric pregnancy’. Sounds fun, huh?”

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