Page 37 of Omega in Hiding

Anxiety strikes at the thought he might be really sick. He missed dinner, so it’s possible he truly is ill. My gut churns as I contemplate that. I set my book on the nightstand, feeling agitated. If I go to his room to check on him, will he be mad at me? Will he resent that I’m not giving him space? Will he think I’m clingy? My protective alpha instincts are buzzing, but I’m not sure he’d appreciate me waking him up in the middle of the night. If he didn’t come to me as planned, maybe he’s decided it’s too risky to be with me again. I don’t want to smother him by going to his room. I have to have some pride.

Feeling restless, I get under the covers. I try to sleep, but slumber doesn’t come easy. The minutes tick by with me aching to go to Connor. I don’t really understand the strong connection I have to Connor. I keep telling myself I hardly know him, but that isn’t how itfeels. But perhaps that feeling of closeness is only one sided. It’s entirely possible he’s simply avoiding me by skipping dinner and not coming to my room as planned. Or he might truly be sick.

He seemed healthy as a horse when he was in my bed.

I’m unusually insecure with Connor. I don’t generally have to chase omegas or coax them into being with me. I’m out of my depth here. These are unchartered waters for me. Connor is much harder to read than the typical omega. Is he like that with everyone, or just me?

Somehow I restrain the need to go check on him. I barely sleep though. When morning comes, my eyes burn from lack of sleep as I shower and get ready for the day. It hurts that Connor blew me off last night, but I can’t let him see that. At breakfast,I’ll simply act like nothing is wrong. I don’t want to come off as pathetic.

I go downstairs and enter the sunroom where we usually eat breakfast. Alessio and Dario are there with Baby Joesph. They’re both doting on the infant as I sit down across from them. I smile and give a cheerful greeting, but it doesn’t escape me that Connor isn’t at the table. I want to ask where he is, but worry Dario will read too much into my inquiry. But is it really that odd that I’d wonder where he is? He usually eats breakfast with us.

As I wrestle with whether I should ask about Connor or not, I help myself to some eggs and bacon. I pretend to focus on my food, but once I’ve had a few bites, I ask, “Did Connor eat breakfast already?” I try to sound as nonchalant as possible, but Dario still gives me a suspicious glance.

Alessio shakes his head. “No. I told him to sleep in today. He’s going with us to Valentino’s this afternoon to help with Baby Joesph. He looked so tired yesterday, I thought it would be good for him to get some extra rest.”

“Oh. I see.” I have to hide the uneasiness I feel. Something just doesn’t feel right. His absence is gnawing at me. Missing dinner, blowing me off last night, and now skipping breakfast too? That doesn’t seem right. I can’t shake the feeling something is wrong.

I eat my breakfast, trying not to rush through it. Dario would notice if I gulped down my food and ran out of the room to go check on Connor. Once I feel enough time has passed and enough food has been consumed, I leisurely rise and take my plate into the kitchen.

Maria is there washing dishes. “Good morning, Paolo,” she says brightly.

“Morning, Maria.” She reaches for my plate but I keep it away from her. “I can rinse it.”

She frowns. “It’s my job.”

“I’m not helpless.” I grin, giving her a kiss on her soft cheek. “I do know how to rinse a dirty plate.”

“Are you sure about that?” She winks, grabbing the plate and scrubbing it with a sponge. “I usually have to rinse your plates again once you leave the kitchen.”

I laugh. “That’s not true.”

She shrugs. “You’re always in a hurry. You miss spots.”

I feign offence. “How dare you impugn my dish rinsing skills.”

“If the shoe fits.”

I lean against the island. “I’ll try to do better in the future.”

“No you won’t.” She laughs, setting the dish in the dishwasher. “But that’s okay.”

It occurs to me that Maria might have some information about Connor. If she took a tray up to him last night or this morning, she might know how he’s doing. I clear my throat. “So, how is Connor this morning? It seems he missed dinnerandbreakfast? Is he really sick or something?”

“To tell you the truth, I have no clue how Connor is doing.” She glances over at me, frowning. “I left him a dinner tray last night, but when I went up with his breakfast this morning, he wasn’t in his room and the dinner tray was untouched.”

“Really?” Uneasiness returns.

She shrugs. “Yep.”

“Maybe he was in the shower?” Even as I suggest that, I know that probably isn’t the explanation. That might explain why he wasn’t where she could see him, but not why he hadn’t eaten his dinner.

“Nope. I checked. I was worried maybe he’d fallen or something. But he wasn’t in the bathroom. He wasn’t anywhere in his room.” She sighs. “I wish he’d told me he didn’t want to eat anything. I wouldn’t have bothered carrying a tray up this morning. And he wasted all that delicious roast beef from last night.” She closes the dishwasher with a firm push. “He’s usually such a considerate boy.”

“I think I’ll go check on him.” Whether Dario likes me worrying about Connor or not, I feel compelled to go to his room. Something definitely feels off. Connor isn’t the sort to make Maria carry food up to him if he isn’t going to eat it. He’s too thoughtful to do that kind of thing. And if he’s so sick he can’t eat, wouldn’t he be in his bed?

“Good idea. If you see him, ask him if he wants lunch. I won’t bring a tray this time unless I know he’s going to eat it.” She huffs.

“Okay.” I leave the kitchen and go up the stairs, heart racing. Since last night I’ve ignored the uneasiness simmering inside of me, but I can ignore it no longer. Something is wrong. I’m certain of it.

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