Page 21 of Alpha's Redemption

Pulling into the parking spots out front, I see the safety inspector. With a groan, I shrug off my blazer and climb out of the car. As I walk toward him, he goes to open his mouth, no doubt with some complaint, but I pluck the paper he’s holding up from his grip.

“See you in a month,” I tell him, not bothering to stop as I flip him the finger above my head; I’m not in the mood to deal with him. I stroll around back and up the steps toward my old apartment. As soon as I unlock the door and step inside, I flick the kettle on, dumping my keys in the fruit bowl. It feels so normal—like home still.

Raiding the fridge and pantry, I grab coffee and milk out, yet the moment I open the coffee canister, my stomach turns violently and has me rushing toward the sink to hurl my guts up. What the heck just came over me? Rinsing my mouth, I quickly clean the sink, wondering if I have heat stroke from sitting in the overheated council lobby all day. Once my stomach settles and the kitchen is clean, I’m about to start making coffee when Macey walks in with Zoe.

“How did it go?” Macey asked, rushing toward the air-conditioning panel on the wall and turning it up full blast. Zoe lifts her hair off the back of her neck and stands under the vent in the living room. “Gosh, it’s hot today,” she whines, her skin glistening with a sheen of sweat. Macey walks over to the freezer, opening the door and pressing her face inside it, trying to cool down. I move to one of the chairs at the dining table and undo the top button on my shirt.

“It was postponed; waiting for email on a new date. Also, Imayhave accidentally reversed into Nixon’s shiny new car,” I shrug before catching Macey stealing ice cubes out of the freezer drawer, pulling her shirt open, and dropping them in her bra. Zoe and I stare at her.

“What? Cooling my girls down,” she says, like it isn’t an odd thing to do. She reaches for more and Zoe snaps at her.

“Nope, you best leave my ice tray alone. Iknowyou aren’t about to stuff them down your pants!” she shrieks and Macey looks at her, appalled by her words before she pops the cubes of ice in her mouth.

“Not all of us are like you, Miss Hotbox, stuffing frozen vegetables in your pants.”

Zoe flashes me an accusing glare for telling Macey and I giggle.

Macey starts making coffee and I tell them about my interaction with Nixon. When Macey sets the steaming mug in front of me and sips her own. I grab it and take a sip before my stomach turns again and I’m rushing for the sink. Coffee comes out of my nose and mouth as I spew. Gagging on the taste, I quickly rinse my mouth and wet my face, trying to cool down.

Once I feel slightly better, I stand up and turn to find them both staring at me. “What? Your damn milk must be off,” I tell them.

“Wait, you were in heat, right?”

“Weeks ago!” I tell them, shaking my head and grabbing a Pepsi out of the fridge. I swallow it down to rid the rancid taste from my mouth. Macey clears her throat awkwardly, and I glance at her. “What!”

“Hundred bucks says you're preggo!”

“Nope, we used….” I stop. Did we use protection?

“She’s knocked up!” Zoe exclaims and slaps Macey’s waiting hand.

No! I can't be; my heat came and went…… In a day! I look at Zoe, horrified.

“How long does a heat last?”

“Three or four days, give or take, and from memory, yours lasted a night? Not that I’m heat cycling you or anything,” she says innocently.

“See? All the proof right there, you are preggers—he knocked you up first dive into your coochie because you're definitely pregnant,” Macey laughs.

“I can’t be pregnant. I have the challenge in two days!” I snap at them, horrified. They glance between each other nervously.

“Shit! I have tests; we can check.”

“Maybe your dad will postpone on compassionate grounds for the hotel?” Macey offers while Zoe rushes off toward the bathroom.

Macey eyes her suspiciously when she comes out with four different pregnancy tests. “Why have you got half a pharmacy’s worth of pregnancy tests?” she asks.

“No reason,” she says, shoving them in my hands.

“Wait, are you and Marcus trying to have another crotch goblin?” Macey asks excitedly.

“No. It’s just in case,” Zoe says.

Macey pouts. “Fine, at least I get to be this one’s cool auntie,” Macey says, rubbing my belly like I’m a Buddha and she can rub some good luck out of it.

“Please be triplets, or quadruplets—a whole damn litter!” she whispers. I slap her hand away.

“I am not pregnant!” I tell her, and she folds her arms.

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