Page 114 of Laurels and Liquor

Gideon is about to answer, when a bark of laughter takes us both by surprise moments before an arm drapes across my shoulders. I look up to see Delano grinning at me like I’ve just told the most amusing joke he’s ever heard.

“No one would waste perfectly valuable pharma to cut bond breakers. Not to mention the reactions between the two would render both inert,” he says, like it’s obvious.

“Pardon me, Doctor Covalent Bonds. Chemistry of street drugs isn’t exactly one of my fields of expertise,” I drone sarcastically.

“Lucky for you, it’s one of mine. But you don’t have to worry your pretty little head. We haven’t found anything toxic in the samples we’ve collected and tested. But if something shows up, you’ll be the first to know,” he says with an infuriatingly patronizing ruffle of my hair.

I swat his hand away, sniffing with indignation. My brow twitches in confusion as my nose detects something new, something I’ve never smelt on any of them before. There’s Delano’s usual phosphorus and smoke, but there’s something distinctly sweet under that. Like peaches and brown sugar and cinnamon, a cobbler resting out to cool.

“Who’s the omega?” I ask out loud, looking up with a little smile.

Delano’s humor vanishes immediately, and he takes two quick steps back, turning to walk toward Hunter. I look to Gideon, and take a long inhale through my nose. It’s on him, too. He gives me a dark glare and lifts his chin.

“A pleasure doing business with you, as always,” he says sharply, running a hand down the front of his coat to smooth out the non-existent wrinkles.

Before I can respond, he’s turning on his heel and marching away. Delano and Hunter move aside to let him take point, neither looking back as they fade into the misty afternoon. I shake my head with a bemused smile still pulling at my lips. Lord help that woman if she’s caught the attention of that posse.

I walk around the pond in the opposite direction, my steps lighter than they’ve been in months. The world is brighter somehow, the future wide open now that we’ve dealt with this last hanging loose end. There aren’t any more secrets to keep quiet, no need to stick to the shadows. We’re free.

Epilogue

Rhett

SIX MONTHS LATER…

The summer air buzzes with excitement, voices bouncing off the walls of The Magnolia Garden Theater. The restoration is complete, and I think it’s our best work yet. Hardwood floors gleam in the light of the chandeliers hanging above. Delicious smells waft out from the state-of-the-art kitchen we’d installed, skillfully hidden from view but still easily accessible for the staff. Every detail has been considered, and seeing the results of our hard work makes my chest swell with pride. And in a few short minutes, the public will be allowed in to see it. Or at least, the public who paid for a ticket to the opening gala. We’re hoping to woo more investors for future projects, and to show off the venue’s potential to planners, bloggers, and anyone else who might want to book with us in the future.

But as I stand at the edge of the foyer, looking out over the flurry of activity, my eyes catch on the staircase and my blood runs a little colder. It’d taken months before any of us could step foot in here again, and I doubt I’ll be able to completely forget the events of that night. Not that there’s any evidence left. All that remains are the memories that haunt us, but those fade with each passing day. And tonight, we’re going to replace those with new, much happier ones.

I catch a trace of lilacs in the air, and I find my omega in the crowd immediately. She’s absolutely stunning, wearing a vintage black silk dress that hugs her curves in all the right ways. She’s instructing a few of the staff on the correct placement of the display items we’d put together to show the history of the building around us. Many of the photos I’d found in my research are in frames, along with treasures we’d discovered buried in the basement storage. Watching Lydia work always brings a smile to my face, but seeing her in her element like this is a special sort of joy.

I scent Mateo before I see him, his happy, bubbly lemonade aura pulling the corners of my mouth up just a little bit higher. Like me, he’s dressed in a well-tailored tuxedo, but his sandy brown hair is in his usual ruffled, just rolled out of bed “style.” Grinning from ear to ear, his tawny eyes sparkle as he also watches Lydia work. He sighs heavily once Lydia rounds a corner toward the kitchen, pulling my attention to his face.

“What’s up, Matty?” I ask conversationally.

He shrugs and looks around, smile falling slightly. “Still doesn’t feel real. Like, I keep waiting to wake up, back before…”

I put a hand to his lower back, nodding as he trails off. He doesn’t need to finish the sentence for me to know what he means. But as my heart sinks a little, vanilla-scented comfort fills my chest. She’s there, soothing away my fears, and judging by the look on Mateo’s face, he’s feeling something similar. It never ceases to amaze me how in tune with our emotions she’s become, caring for us even when she’s busy. I truly don’t know what I ever did to deserve a woman like her.

“Let’s get something to drink,” I suggest, nodding toward the open doors to the ballroom.

Mateo and I make our way from the foyer, and I can’t help but smile again as we cross the threshold. Circular tables are arranged across most of the floor, leaving space in the front of the room near the stage for a dancefloor. The place settings gleam and glitter, reflecting the candlelight from the centerpieces. I’m not surprised to see the small gathering of people near the bar, but my heart still lifts at the sight of them.

Lydia’s eldest brother, Sammy, has one arm around Ally, his other hand holding out his phone to show Wila Fitzgerald what I assume to be the same slideshow of baby photos he’d presented to me not that long ago. Zeke and Zoey just turned five months old, and I’ve never seen prouder parents. Ally indulges her husband, laughing at the same jokes over and over as he tells everyone who will listen—and several people who probably don’t—every little detail of his children’s lives.

Wila nods along,oooh-ingandahh-ingat the appropriate places as Sammy follows her from table to table. We’d told her specifically she’s not working tonight, but I see our instructions are being ignored. She’s adjusting centerpieces and shifting flowers in their arrangements, not even trying to hide it. I roll my eyes and continue on toward the bar. The day Wilhelmina Fitzgerald listens to anyone will be the day hell freezes over.

Her granddaughter, on the other hand, is taking full advantage of her night off and is leaning heavily on a cocktail table, listening intensely as a waiter talks animatedly about something. Though, judging by the glassed-over look in her eyes, her attention is mostly for show. Not that I blame her. The object of her attention is an undeniably attractive man, his shoulders and arms filling out his uniform nicely. But just out of her line of sight, Jason is glaring daggers at the pair over the rim of his glass. Lydia has speculated about their relationship, but I’ve cautioned her to stay out of it. If it’s going to happen, it’ll happen. Though I do hope for his sake, he doesn’t wait too long. Gabby is a catch, and any man of any designation would be lucky to be with her.

Mateo and I order our drinks, and I glance around again as I take my first sip. Finally, I spy Lex, entering the ballroom with Caleb, with Sylvie on his arm. The pair look good in their cocktail attire, even if they make an odd picture. Him with his clean-shaven face and ramrod straight posture, and her with her bubblegum pink hair and animated hand gestures as she talks Lex’s ear off. My prime alpha looks good enough to eat tonight, with her sleek waves and signature red lips, the same shade as the bottom of her stiletto heels. She gracefully extracts herself from the conversation with the Novaks, eyes scanning the room once before she spots Mateo and me and makes a beeline in our direction. She doesn’t hesitate before lifting the drink from Mateo’s hand and taking a pull before handing it back. He rolls his eyes, but his smile is still fond.

“Have you seen Lucas?” she asks lightly, eyes sparkling.

I shake my head, taking a moment to feel for him. He’s close, and the bond between us vibrates with nervous energy. I send him a pulse of reassurance, which is met with a returning touch of gratitude. I smile to myself, taking another sip of my drink.

“It’s almost time,” Mateo mutters, looking at his watch.

“Don’t rush them,” Lex chastises.

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