Like she's nesting.
Oh, fuck.
Is she going into some kind of odorless, stress-hazed heat?
32
Beth
This is definitely not how I expected my Monday to go.
I’m sitting in a rented Toyota in Chicago, running on three hours of sleep, an iced coffee that is mostly melted water, and enough suppressants to make a rutting alpha politely ask for a handshake.
I stare up at the towering glass-and-steel monolith of the investment firm's headquarters, trying to remember how to breathe.
If you told me twenty-four hours ago that I’d be three hours away from Lakeview on the day of my best friend’s wedding rehearsal, I would have laughed in your face. But twenty-four hours ago, I hadn’t been slapped with a sudden seventy-two-hour deadline to sell my shop... and my biology wasn't actively trying to sabotage me.
That's right, in a sick twist of irony, my body decided last night was a great time to jump-start my heat, which triggered barely an hour after I started unconsciously nesting, and demand a week-long fuck fest.
So, Arthur, Knox, and Mason stepped up. They spent the rest of the night ruthlessly, methodically fucking the absolute edge off my heat. And the second the Lakeview pharmacy opened its doors at dawn, Arthur was standing on the pavement, waiting to buy the heaviest-duty suppressants legally available.
Then, running on just enough intellectual clarity (but mostly pure desperation), I rented this Toyota and drove straight to Chicago to tackle this deadline problem head-on.
The plan,I remind myself, gripping the steering wheel.Focus on the plan.I am going to walk into that boardroom, play the part of the stressed but reasonable small business owner, and beg them to reinstate my original deadline. If I can just buy myself a little more time, I can figure everything out.
My phone buzzes in the cup holder, shattering my pep talk. The screen lights up with a text from Maren:Hey! You free for a quick pre-rehearsal drink? Me, Harper, and Luna need it.I sigh, picking it up. My thumbs fly across the keyboard.Not sure. I'm in Chicago right now. Don't know what time I'll be back.I pause, and quickly add,P.S. I'll be back on time for the wedding rehearsal, though, promise!
I hit send and drop the phone back into the cup holder. I slap my cheeks lightly, taking a deep breath and forcing my head back into the game.Focus, Beth.Three minutes later, it rings. The screen flashes with an incoming group FaceTime call: Maren, Harper, and Luna.
I swipe to answer, leaning the phone against the dashboard.
"What the hell are you doing in Chicago?" Harper's voice pipes up, her brow furrowed in concern.
I let out a long, exhausted breath and give them the frantic, condensed version of my late night and morning. I explain the sudden move by the investment firm—who assumed I was shopping their offer around to start a bidding war withBeaumont Patisserie—and how it led to my desperate drive to the city.
"So now, I'm here to fix it." I grip the steering wheel, my knuckles turning white as I glare up at the imposing building through the windshield. "I'm going in there to plead for an extension so I have time to think."
"Think about what?" Harper asks, sitting at her kitchen counter in a casual sweatshirt.
My throat tightens. "About what to do! About my next steps. Everything is happening way too fast, and I just need to hit pause. If I can just get them to push the date back, I'll have more time to think about my options and figure out my exit."
Luna sighs. "Beth, do you really need more time to think about this? Look, of course it's your life and your decision, and I'd say we've been supportive and listened to you, but... We have also felt you change the past few weeks. Ever since you moved in with the alphas, you've been different."
"Lighter," Maren chimes in, nodding. "Happier."
"Exactly," Harper says gently. "And this weekend, you seemed really good. Yesterday in particular, I could feel the alchemy between you and Knox, Arthur, and Mason. It’s palpable, Beth. Do you honestly think you'd be happier leaving?"
I stare at the three of them on the tiny screen, my chest aching.
"Beth, this firm is literally trying to strong-arm you with an aggressive deadline out of pure paranoia," Maren points out, refusing to let me off the hook. "Is that really a corporation you want to surrender your business to?"
"Don't forget what you have here," Luna adds, her voice softening. "Whatever happens, you'll always have us."
"And what if the partnership with Beaumont Patisserie pans out?" Harper adds. "Couldn't that be the universe finally handing you a victory?"
I stare at the phone screen, but my vision starts to blur, the faces of my best friends washing out into a bright haze. It’s just too much. Between the sudden seventy-two-hour corporate guillotine, my body randomly throwing me into heat, spending the entire night completely wrecked by three alphas, and then driving all the way to Chicago on a fistful of suppressants and zero sleep—my brain is totally short-circuiting. I honestly have no idea what the right choice is anymore.
"Beth?" Harper asks gently. "Are you okay?"
