Page 5 of Knot Your Sunshine
"It's the fifth time this month, Mia."
His voice is flat, tired. Not angry, which somehow makes it worse. Anger I could work with. This... this is different.
My stomach drops like I've missed a step going downstairs. "I know, I know. I'm terrible. But I can make it up to you, I promise. Why don't we grab a late dinner? That new place by the lake? The one with the fairy lights? I can be there in twenty minutes—"
"Mia, stop."
The quiet resignation in his voice hurts more than anger would have. And all I can do is picture him standing outside the gallery, probably in that navy button-down I helped him pick out, watching couples walk in together while he waited for me. Again.
"Your work is important to you," he continues, and I hear him take a deep breath. "I get that. I've been trying to be supportive, I really have. But I can't keep being the guy who gets stood up. Do you know how that feels?"
"I'm so sorry, Alex. I can do better. I just need to—"
"No, you don't." He sounds exhausted. "You're not in a place to be in a relationship right now, you need to focus on your business, and that's okay. But I need someone who has room for me in their life. And right now, you don't."
"That's not fair. I do have room, I just—"
"Mia." He sighs, and I can picture him pinching the bridge of his nose. "We both know this isn't working. I'm not angry. I'm just... done."
The line goes dead.
I sit there staring at the screen, the salon feeling bigger somehow, emptier.
Did that really just happen?
My thumb hovers over his number. I could call back. Apologize again. Promise to do better. Again. But the words would be hollow, wouldn't they? Because we both know I'llprobably do it again. Not on purpose, never on purpose, but when a client comes in crying because her birthday is tomorrow and her hair is a disaster, what am I supposed to do? Turn her away?
I sigh, staring at the clock ticking.
I guess I can't exactly blame him for tapping out. We've been dating a month, and I've missed two dinner reservations, one movie, his company picnic, and now this. But damn, I did warn him about my priorities before we started dating. Made it crystal clear that my career comes first, second, and third. He'd nodded along, said he understood, even called it 'inspiring' how driven I was.
Yet here we are. Another alpha who thought he wanted a career-driven omega until he actually got one. Well, I say alpha, but it's not like my track record with betas is any better. John lasted two months before he accused me of caring more about "playing with hair" than building a relationship. And Tyler eventually admitted he felt like he was dating my voicemail.
My phone pings, making me jump.
I squint at the screen, expecting another sale notification or maybe Alex sending one final text. But when I read the partial notification…
What the hell?
Chapter two
Noa
"Will you put that down? We need to focus." I lean against my desk, the cool marble edge pressing into my palms as I watch Keanu lift the amber bottle to his nose again. His whole body goes slack, eyes rolling back before sliding shut.
"Noa's right." Josh spins his ergonomic chair away from his workstation, where three holographic displays float in mid-air, glowing softly. "We've been at this for a week, and the most beautiful omega we've ever seen still hasn't stepped foot in Hawaii."
Keanu shifts on the Italian leather couch, his shoulder-length hair catching the light as he turns his head. "But it smells so divine." He holds the bottle toward me, and sunrays coming from the panoramic window catch the oil inside, turning it molten. "Here, just take one whiff. For relaxation."
"We need a strategy, not relaxation." But I instinctively push off from the desk, my eyes locking on that damn bottle. The pull is magnetic, primal, and my feet move without permission, crossing the polished floor until I'm snatching it from his hand.
The moment I bring it to my nose, every muscle in my body gives up. "Fuuuck."
The room tilts. My knees actually buckle, and I have to grab the back of the couch to stay upright. Through sheer force of will, I manage to stretch my arm back toward Keanu, the bottle trembling in my grip.
"Take it. Take it back before I—"
The office door swings open.
