My eyebrows furrow and I shake my head. “Not unless you’re going to fit me and Lain in that double bed of yours. I’m not leaving you to sleep alone after what we just did.”
She blinks at me and swallows.
“Do you have something I can wear then?”
I grin, and not wanting to leave her alone, I go into Lain’s drawer and hand her a T-shirt to wear for the night.
When Lain walks into the room, you would think he just found a Christmas tree littered with presents the way he smiles seeing her in his clothes.
“I think you should wear this all the time,” he says, tugging on his shirt and Maisie laughs.
“What will your clients think?”
“You’re right. Think about the tips if we’re both showing some leg.”
Maisie shoves his chest playfully and we all climb into the bed, Maisie in the center, but a lot of her sleepiness seems gone as she lies there.
Lain has already wrapped himself around her, like he’ll never let her go, and she’s facing me.
“What’s wrong?”
She scrunches her nose.
“I’ve, um…never shared a bed like this before.”
She breaks my fucking heart every time she says some shit like that. I pet down her curls and she leans into the touch.
“If you don’t want him all over you like that I can push him off,” I say.
“No. I like it. It’s just new. Ya know?”
I lean forward, pressing a kiss on her forehead, and it almost feels like she melts against me.
“You run the show here, Mais. If you really want me to take you back to your room, I’ll get dressed right now.”
“No. I like it. It just might take me a while to fall asleep.”
“Take your time,” I tell her and she seems to relax a bit.
Before I know it, her and Lain are asleep and all I’m left with is the ache in my chest that this isn’t forever and that this Omega has imprinted ridiculously high standards that I don’t think will ever be met again.
She’s ruined us, and I welcomed it with open arms. There’s no going back now.
14
callum
“Fergus?”I question as I come home.
The furry beast is sitting patiently in the kitchen, the pocket door shut. Usually he sleeps in Lain’s room or in the front room, but here he is, belly on the tile looking downtrodden.
I slide the pocket door open and he bounds out immediately. With a shake of my head, I turn back into the kitchen, opening the cabinet in search of some paracetamol. My head has been aching all damn night.
Usually being in the kitchen helps, but it seemed like everyone was being especially incompetent tonight.
With a glass of water, I take the pill and grip the counter. It feels like all my stress is compounding right now. Greer and Lain are being absolute fools over the American with large hair, along with my Nan, whose lifelong business is struggling. Not that I think it’s the worst thing. I’ve told them they need to slow down at their age. Then there’s my damn brother Graham insisting that we don’t spend enough time together.
Cooking food is the one thing that feels stable, controllable. Everything else right now feels like an epic weight on my damn chest. Fuck, it’s felt that way for the last two years. It’s like Fionaleft and I was no longer myself. Now I’m this shell of a man I used to be.
