Page 69 of Want It All
I shook myself, realising she’d been speaking. ‘Sorry?’
‘We got our re-marked essays back.’
‘Oh, fuck.’ I spun back to face my laptop, clicking into the learning system.
Ninety-eight. ‘Mine didn’t change.’
‘Mine did,’ Rose said happily, a flush spreading over her cheeks. ‘Oh, thankfuck. I can’t believe this happened. I’ve never had a re-mark before. I wonder why they decided to do it?’
I bit my tongue. I could have told her, but it was Tristan’s story, and it wasn’t his way to blow his own metaphorical trumpet. ‘No idea, beautiful, but I’m glad you’re happier.’
‘Forty marks happier,’ she muttered, and my heart wrenched for her.
She made a pleased littlehumsound, her eyes on her essay’s new comments, and I went back to planning an orgy.
With mypack.
Tristan didn’t realise I was up to something until the snacks I’d ordered online began spilling from our cupboards. Which, to mymind, proved how much the situation with Byron was affecting my alpha.
‘Baby?’ he said, bewildered, when I’d received another delivery while he was out on his afternoon walk. ‘What’s this?’
‘We’re having a movie night,’ I informed him. ‘Tonight. And I’ve invited Rose and Byron.’
He froze; a thousand emotions flickered in his eyes. ‘Seb, I … Are you sure that’s a good idea? Rose could scent your designation, and Byron …’ He trailed off, looking away.
I went to him and tipped his chin towards me, then said something I’d never said before, something that took every ounce of courage I had. ‘It’s time for no more secrets, don’t you think?’
He studied me warily, biting at his lip. His eyes flickered across to the mountain of food. ‘Do you think they’ll come?’
By that, he meant did I thinkByronwould come. ‘Rose was pretty determined,’ I answered.
He deflated. ‘All right.’ His eyes slid back to me; he gave me an unreadable look. ‘What do you need me to do?’
I threw my arms around him. ‘Thank you.’ I buried my face in his neck. ‘I know you don’t really want to do this.’
He sighed, his arms wrapping tight around me. ‘I’d do anything for you.’
I knew they weren’t empty words. He was reluctant, but he was going to do this anyway – because he knew it meant something to me. I pressed a kiss to his throat. ‘You’re the best, Tristan Grace.’
I put him to work cleaning, while I took care of the snacks. Everything was sweet – because omegas craved sweetness like bees needed pollen – but it wasthemed. I’d bought every kind of chocolate I could get my hands on, along with salted caramel popcorn, and cherry clafoutis and vanilla slice from a patisserie further up the coast. While Tristan pushed around a vacuumand I pretended not to ogle him, I made a packet mix of salted caramel brownies and another of cherry blondies, both of which would go perfectly with the homestyle vanilla bean ice cream I’d ordered from a specialty ice cream shop. I’d bought cookies, too: browned butter toffee chocolate chip, chocolate cherry, and vanilla snaps shaped like hearts, covered with thick icing and sprinkles.
Thank fuck for delivery drivers.
When Tristan caught the smell of salted caramel, he stiffened, his neck muscles corded. I left the kitchen to wrap my arms around him, my chest rumbling in a gentle omega purr.
He relaxed, stroking my hair. ‘You’re amazing,’ he said quietly. ‘Do you know that?’
‘Obviously,’ I answered, running my nose over his scent gland. ‘It’s going to be okay, Tris. I’m going tomakeit okay.’
He was silent for so long that I pulled back, searching his face.
‘I trust you,’ he said at last. ‘If I can’t see a way forward, I know that you’ll find it for us.’
‘Good.’ I rose up on my toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek. ‘Because if this goes the way I hope it does, then we need to talk about boundaries again.’
Rose and Byron arrived on time because Rose was a compulsive over-achiever and her understanding offashionably latewas strictly academic. It didn’t matter, though; I’d been ready for hours, sitting on the couch with my laptop on my knees, trying – without success – to concentrate on the draft of my final essay. Tristan had convinced me not to put the food out no fewer thanfour times, but he was on edge himself, inexplicably choosing that afternoon to rearrange our bookshelves.
They didn’t look that different afterwards, but it was a good distraction for him.
