Page 82 of Knot Like Other Girls

Braxley nods, starting to pace again. He walks the length of the room, turns, walks back. Three times before he finally speaks.

"I... I've been messaging people," he blurts out. "On dating apps. And, um, meeting up with them sometimes."

I blink, processing his words. Messaging people. Meeting up with them. It doesn't compute at first, like he's speaking a language I only half understand.

"You've been... cheating on me?"

The words come out measured, calm.

Too calm, maybe.

All of it—every fake smile, every staged photo, every minute spent listening to him talk about his follower count—it was all for nothing.

I've spent months of my life with an alpha I can barely stand on his best days. Endured his tantrums, his narcissism, his constant need for validation. I've smiled through dinners with his insufferable friends. Convinced myself that this was just how life had to be.

And for what?

So he could cheat on me the entire time?

Part of me wants to laugh. Another part wants to throw something at his perfectly styled hair. But mostly, I feel a crushing wave of regret for all the time I've wasted trying to be the perfect omega for someone who wasn't even attracted to me in the first place.

Every compromise, every sacrifice, every moment I bit my tongue when I wanted to tell him exactly what I thought of him—all of it meaningless.

Braxley just winces. "Yes. No! I mean—it's not what you think."

I raise an eyebrow. "What exactly am I supposed to think, Braxley?"

"It's just—God, this is hard." He stops pacing, facing me with a vulnerable expression I've never seen before. Real vulnerability, not the staged kind he puts on for his followers when he's talking about his "insecurities" while filtered to perfection. "The thing is, Bella... I'm not actually attracted to omegas."

I stare at him, waiting for the rest. When nothing comes, I say, "Okay. And?"

Now it's his turn to look confused. "What do you mean, 'and'? I just told you I'm not attracted to omegas. I'm attracted to alphas. And some dominant betas." He drags a hand down his face. "Look, I can still appreciate an omega's beauty. You're beautiful, anyone can see that. But I don't... I don't want omegas. Not the way I'm supposed to."

I take a deep breath, trying to organize my thoughts. "Let me get this straight. You, an alpha, prefer other alphas and sometimes betas. But not omegas. And you've been, what? Hooking up with these people? While we're together?"

"We're not technically engaged," he mumbles. "You never actually said yes."

"I didn't say engaged. I said together." My voice rises despite my best efforts to keep it level. "And that's really not the point here, Braxley."

"I know, I know." He holds up his hands in surrender. "I'm sorry. This is coming out all wrong."

"No kidding." I run a hand through my hair, mimicking his earlier gesture without realizing it. "How long has this been happening?"

He at least has the decency to look ashamed. "Always? I mean, I've always known I wasn't into omegas the way other alphas are. But the messaging and the... meetings... that started a few months after we met."

A hysterical laugh bubbles up in my throat. "So basically our entire relationship."

"My parents don't know," he says quickly, as if that somehow makes it better. "Nobody knows. That's why the engagement makes sense. It's the perfect cover. An alpha from a wealthy family marrying a nice, respectable omega. Everyone gets what they want."

"Except me," I say, my voice deadly quiet. "And you, apparently."

"But that's just it, Bella. You don't love me either." He says it with such certainty that I'm momentarily taken aback. "I see the way you look at me. Or don't look at me, really. You've been going through the motions just as much as I have."

I open my mouth to deny it, but the words don't come. Because he's right. I've never loved Braxley. I've been playing a role, fulfilling my family's expectations, telling myself it was the right thing to do.

"That doesn't excuse cheating," I say finally.

"No, it doesn't." He sighs, deflating further. "I'm sorry. I should have been honest with you from the beginning."

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