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“I’m going to say this as your friend, and because I love you,” she continues, “but you have to keep it together at work. You have to. Devyn is sensitive, and she picks up on your moods. And so will customers.”
Ugh. April’s right. She’s always right.
I sigh and swallow, embarrassed at the lump that swells in my throat.
I had too much espresso today, and my moods are all over the place.
“Yeah, I know,” I grumble, biting my lip. “Sorry.”
“I’m sorry, too.” Her expression softens and she uncrosses her arms, leaning against the shelf with a sigh. “Just keep it together for now, and we can both cry tonight while stuffing our faces.”
I smirk. “I like that idea.”
And it can’t be any worse than last year.
* * *
It’s almost closing time at April’s Cafe, and the Alpha at the register is incredibly indecisive.
Less than a month until it’s all over, I think to myself.
“She loves your macarons,” he continues, his dark eyes staring at the glass display of our treats. “I’m just not sure which ones.”
I want to slam my head on the counter until I knock myself out.
How does he not know what flavors his own mate likes?
Careful, Skye. You’re being bitter.
At least this Omega has an Alpha that’s making an effort for her at all.
Jason never would have.
So, I swallow down my impatience and do my best.
“Well, the vanilla ones are always popular. And the raspberry lemon is a February exclusive,” I offer. “But she’s not here, so I don’t want to make too many suggestions. I would probably go with safe choices.”
“Hmm.” That seems to confuse him more, and I shift my balance, trying to not appear bored.
Just pick a flavor!
Any of our macarons would be the right choice. We’ve rarely had complaints, except for the spicy black licorice.
But that only lasted for a day, and neither April nor I ever brought it up again afterwards.
“Skye, I’ll see you later,” April calls out as she walks through the front door, leaving me with Mr. Indecisive and Devyn, who is busy cleaning out espresso machines.
“Alright, text me,” I say before turning my gaze back to the Alpha.
His scent is pleasant, with just the slightest hint of clove and cedar, so faint it could be confused with a cologne. It’s pleasant and welcoming, but it stirs nothing within me.
My inner Omega has been silent these past months. I’ve stuffed her down into the darkest parts of my heart, unable or unwilling to let her resurrect.
The Alpha in front of me has barely any impact on my senses.
He’s handsome enough, and he’s polite, so I stay as patient as I can with him. His intentions are good, after all.
Finally, ten minutes after Devyn locks the door, he purchases a twelve-pack of vanilla, espresso, and lemon raspberry. I package them carefully and tie the box with a silver ribbon. He’s pleased, and Devyn and I both wish him a good night as we unlock the door to let him out.
