I might not be able to scent anything right now, but just knowing that unfamiliar scents are lingering on my skin from the plane ride is enough to fuel this incessant need to remove them, to be clean again.
My skin is red with irritation and my curls are heavy, weighed down with water by the time I get out.
The mirror above the sink is foggy, and I use my forearm to wipe it off, grabbing my glasses off the vanity as I look at myself. I can hear Birdie humming in the other room and I sigh.
I need to try harder with her. We’re going to be here for a whole month and the last thing I want is for us to feel like two perfect strangers sharing a room. Sure, I’ll need to work most of the trip, but that shouldn’t impede our sisterly bonding.
“This is what Mom wanted,” I whisper to myself in the mirror.
Maybe it’s the fact that I’m clean, safely at the place we’re staying and no longer overwhelmed by people, new places, or traveling, but it has me looking at this trip completely differently.
This is the trip where I’m going to reconnect with Birdie and maybe, if I’m lucky, find some closure in these mountains and finally accept that our mom is gone.
When I step out of the bathroom, it’s to Birdie taking fistfuls of her clothes and shoving them into her dresser. I head over to my suitcase, grabbing the packing cube with my sleeping clothes.
“What should we do tomorrow?” Birdie asks.
“We’re five hours ahead here. I just need to be by my computer at one, so we’ll have the morning.”
“Maybe we could just explore the town some? You aren’t planning on working the whole time, right?”
I clear my throat, guilt clawing away at me. Instead of being the good sister I promised I would be just a few minutes ago, I turn defensive.
“Don’t you have work to do too while we’re here?” I ask.
Birdie turns away from me. “Some, but not much. I don’t think Mom’s hope was for me to explore Scotland all by myself while you’re tucked away in here with your laptop,” she replies, hiding behind her hair.
“We’ll have the mornings and the weekends, Birdie, I promise,” I say, knowing I’m going to put in late hours with the time difference, but I can make this work. I might be a little sleep deprived at the end of this trip, but it will be worth it.
I can have it all, time with my sister, honoring my mom’s final wish, and keeping the dream job that means so much to me. I’ve got this.
I wake up with a snort, like I was sleeping with my mouth open. With a groan, I tap the nightstand, searching for my glasses.When I put them on my face and grab my phone, I mumble a curse.
It’s noon. We fucking slept till noon and the East Coast team is going to be awake in an hour.
We missed breakfast, and I promised Birdie we would spend the morning together. She sleeps with her hair all over the place, mine still wet from my shower last night as I get up and nudge her shoulder.
“Birdie, it’s noon.”
“Hmm?” she questions groggily, peeking open an eye at me.
“We slept until noon. I have to start work in an hour.”
She grabs her pillow and holds it to her face. “I’ll get up and explore when you have to start work,” she mumbles and I realize that yesterday wore her out just as much as it did me.
There are parts to being an Omega that no one really talks about much. Sure, we go through heats, and there’s the whole pheromone driven life that’s out of our control, but there’s more to it. We tire more easily, need more sleep. Our immune systems aren’t as strong as other designations, along with a slew of other bullshit we have to deal with.
It’s in my humble opinion that the Omega designation is highly romanticized, because there’s been little in my life that’s come easily. Maybe if I actually attempted to date, let a pack court me, my life would change, but then I’d give up all my control. I’d be at the mercy of whatever my pack of Alphas wanted; the idea makes me shiver.
I throw on a pair of jeans and a sweater before putting my hair up the best I can. I grab my purse and lock the door to the room. I’ll grab us some coffees and breakfast, or lunch, whatever I can get right now.
The rest of the house is quiet. I’m sure most of the other guests are out exploring and enjoying their day. I usually love my job, the way it lets me hone my focus on one thing. But right nowI feel resentful that I couldn’t take more time off to enjoy this trip.
I give this company sixty to seventy-hour work weeks almost religiously; I go above and beyond, and I care so much about the quality of my work. Sure, I have to take heat leave every quarter, which leaves no time for any leisure.
“No more negative thinking,” I chastise myself.
I’m grateful to have my job, I worked hard for it, and this is all a part of climbing the corporate ladder. I’m only twenty-six and I’ve accomplished so much. A few years from now, I’ll move on from just the Omega marketing campaign to an even bigger branch and keep working my way up from there.
