Page 32 of Coffee Shop Cupid
“I’d known Vince, in a way, for years. We were from a small southern town, and his father was the church deacon. He was every omega’s crush growing up, but he was a couple years older than me and I’d always thought him out of my league.
“Then I ran into him on campus one day near the end of my sophomore year. I was shocked when he knew my name, and even more surprised when he asked me out for coffee to catch up. But I just thought that he was being a good role model as the deacon’s son.”
Deep breath in, deep breath out.
“I’d thought that was it,” he continued. “Then I kept running into him, until he joked that we might as well start dating so that we could plan on when we’d see each other. I agreed, and even thought it sweet when a friend of his told me that it was how he got dates: be around often without being pushy until it seemed a natural transition.
“It meant that he’d picked me. The most desired alpha from our small town had picked me.”
His fingers tightened in my shirt.
“I was so young and dumb,” he sniffled. “We dated for over a year, and when he asked if he could bond me I thought I’d never be happier. He’d talked about what a perfect omega I was, studying to become a teacher, how I went home every weekend to go to church with my family. At the time I thought they were compliments.”
He started crying again. “I should have seen it all for what it was: a shopping list. His family had to maintain appearances, after all, and a proper omega son-in-law was part of the package. They would have preferred I not have a career, but that could wait until after I had babies.”
Tristan fell silent for several minutes.
“He bonded me during my next heat,” he said when he started again. “He’d known I might have some difficulty conceiving. We thought that the dual boost of a heat and mating hormones would do it, but I didn't get pregnant. We tried again my next heat, and the heat after that.
“At the time I was able to convince him that it was for the better. I still had my final year ahead of me, and it was going to be hard to balance student-teaching and classes. Throwing in pregnancy symptoms would have been too much. But we still tried every heat.”
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“I’d no sooner graduated than the pressure started again. At first it was things like over-the-counter ovulation tests to see if I was more fertile outside a heat, and supplements to make sure my body had all the essentials. But when another year passed, he decided that it was time for medical intervention.”
I held my sweet omega as he started crying again.
“The drugs were horrible,” he whispered. “I hurt. I was nauseous. My moods were unpredictable from one minute to the next. I didn’t feel like myself, especially as we ramped up our efforts before every heat.”
He buried his face against my chest. “Sex became the worst part. Sometimes I didn’t want him to touch me, I felt so terrible. But my heats and the days immediately following were still the best chance. So I took him, over, and over, and over, and over, and over. During my heats I was so far gone that I didn’t notice, but once they had passed I would be sore and sensitive everywhere, and ended up sobbing from pain more times than I can count as he kept fucking me hard for several days after.”
“Tristan…” I whispered when he paused.
He shook his head, and I realized that he needed to get it out.
“I started hating sex with him,” he said. “But every knot was a potential chance. Plus a good omega was supposed to fulfill the needs of their alpha. Eventually, all the lies began to crumble. I’d done everything right. I was a good omega. I had a good job and still kept the house for my alpha. I attended church at his side every weekend. But instead of a happy family, all I received was pain and more pain.
“Vince, and his mama, began blaming me. They were supposed to be the picture-perfect deacon’s family, and I was ruining it by not giving him children. It had to be some moral failing on my part, because God surely wouldn’t be punishing them. They ramped up the pressure, until I agreed to in vitro.”
He started shaking in my arms, and I knew what was coming. I wanted him to stop, to not put himself through that pain again. But bottling it up was also hurting him.
“We’d thought we’d finally landed on the answer,” he cried. “Everything looked to be going right. Then the bleeding started. I rushed to the doctor, but knew before I got there that I was having a miscarriage.”
“I’m so sorry…”
He curled against me.
“Things were hard after that,” he finally said. “Vince was more distant, and I suspected that he’d started cheating. But I didn’t want to confront him about it. I didn’t want sex with him anyway. I thought it was over, that we’d move on. I’d keep playing the part of the good omega for him, and maybe we’d reach a point where we could be happy with each other again.
“But his mama kept pushing, and eventually we relented and agreed to another round of IVF.”
I kissed his hair, doing everything I could to give him the strength to finish.
“I told myself not to hope,” he whispered. “That it wasn’t a sure thing. Then I passed the two month mark. It started to feel real. I finally accepted that I was pregnant and that I would be a papa when I hit three months.”
He started crying again. “Two weeks later… two weeks after I thought I was safe. I’d felt the pain before, and I rushed to the hospital, hoping they could save my baby if I was fast enough. But it was too late. Then they gave me the news that changed everything. I’d developed a severe infection, and I would die if I didn’t have my womb removed. I begged for another option, but they told me there was none.
“Vince didn’t even come until I was out of surgery, and he left almost as soon as I told him that they’d taken my womb. The next day…” he choked up, “the next day he told me that the omega he’d been cheating on me with was pregnant, and that he wanted a divorce and a bond severing.”
