James slides a fresh latte toward her as she goes back behind the counter with him. He leans forward, presses a kiss to her temple, and murmurs something that has her grinning. Watching them together is bliss.
“Can you pack half a dozen brownies in a box for Chris,” she asks James, who grins and goes to work.
Twenty-six years old, and I haven’t gotten within a mile of finding my pack. Meanwhile, my little sister has three Alphas who look at her like she hung the damn moon.
I’m genuinely happy for her.
I just wish I believed I could ever have something like that. Then I’m staring at Chris, who hasn’t stopped watching me. Sure, we had a fun kiss, but men like him don’t want Omegas like me. Especially extremely handsome men who can have any girl they want. He looks like he just stepped out of a photo shoot forRugged Mountain Men Monthly.
Which was why, last month, I had made an appointment with that matchmaker downtown, Evelyn… something, the Omega who supposedly has a sixth sense for compatible packs. Showed up at her office, sat in the waiting room for twenty minutes, then fled before she could call my name.
Because what if she can’t find anyone for me? What if I’m one of those Omegas who just… doesn’t match? And I’m meant to be alone?
James is handing Chris the brownies when my phone chimes with a notification. I click it open and notice that it’s from Scot. My insides twist until they hurt.
“What’s wrong?” Lily asks immediately. “You’ve gone pale as snow.”
I swallow hard and lift my gaze. “Just got an email from Scot.”
“And?”
“Haven’t read it yet.”
Lily is at my side. “Let me do it.” She takes the phone, and I try to shrink away, knowing it’s not going to be good.
Chris is at my other side, rubbing my arm. “It’s going to be okay.”
“Effective immediately, I’m dissolving our partnership agreement,” she reads aloud. “You’re no longer affiliated with Confetti and Meatballs Event Planning. All client relationships revert to me. Any attempt to contact the company’s existing clients will be considered interference.” She glances up. “That fucker! But there’s more,” Lily says. “He copied someone called Giuseppe in on the email. Lawyer?”
“That’s his uncle.” I suddenly feel sick to my stomach and take the phone back, needing to read what else he says. “And apparently he spent the last few hours sending emails to his existing clients, telling them I’m no longer with the company and he’ll be handling all future events personally.”
“Can he do that?” Lily is outraged.
“I don’t know. Maybe. We never formalized the partnership in writing, so his uncle still owns the company. I have nothing in writing.” My throat tightens. “It was all handshake agreements, verbal promises. Scot’s uncle said we’d work together for six months, prove ourselves, and then he’d sell us the company fifty-fifty.”
“That’s bad,” James says quietly.
“That’s catastrophic.” I grab another cookie, a Christmas tree this time, and take a bite. “My reputation, probably gone by the time Scot finishes spinning his story.”
Chris is still looking at the email over my shoulder. “He mentions an upcoming event that you’re responsible for. So you still have the ones you sourced, right?”
I scroll down the long email. “I’ve got a Christmas petting zoo event in two days. Private party, wealthy client, huge opportunity. I found it, booked it, planned everything. But Scot has already told the animal vendors—the entire petting zoo component—that I’m gone and not to deal with me, as I’ll cause drama. Asshole.” I’m trembling. “I’m a nobody who thought she could play event planner.”
“Hey.” Chris’s voice cuts through my spiral, sharp and firm. “Don’t do that. Don’t diminish what you’ve built.”
“I haven’t built anything. I’ve been borrowing someone else’s company and pretending it was mine.”
“You brought in new clients,” Lily adds. “You proved yourself.”
Chris leans forward, one hand propped on the counter. “This jackass is threatened by you because you’re good at what you do. That’s not nothing.”
Lily squeezes my arm. “He’s right. You’re incredible at this. Scot knows it. That’s why he’s panicking.”
“Panicking or not, he’s winning.” I grab another cookie. “I’m about to face a client empty-handed with no animals for a petting zoo party. That’s not exactly a strong position.”
I stand there, frozen, while my entire world crumbles around me. Then I reach for another cookie, but Lily drags the tray away from me.
“You’re stress-eating,” she observes out loud.
