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Chuckling, I tell him, “It’s eleven-thirty, Benjamin.”
I hear him gasp, and I want to ask what it’s about, but he starts talking, taking away the chance. “Yeah, okay. Well. Give me a moment. I just woke up.”
Rustling and grunting fills my ear and I smile. It’s amazing how a few short weeks ago, this would have irritated the shit out of me. Now, it’s just really endearing.
After a few minutes, he comes back on, sighing. “Okay. What is it? It’s Saturday, so I don’t have to be at work.”
“Do you remember I called you yesterday?”
“I remember.” He sighs again, then groans. “You want to have lunch so we can talk in person? I’m a little hungover and I need food.”
“Yeah? You sure?” I ask, wanting to make sure he doesn’t feel obligated because I apologized. Though I would love to see him today. I tell myself it’s only because I want to make sure he’s okay, not that I’m itching to be in his presence.
“Not really, but I need food. We have shit to talk about and I’d rather see your face while we do it.”
“You want to see me?” I ask, teasing him a little and fishing for compliments.
He growls in frustration, then says, “Yes. I do want to see you.” Under his breath, he mumbles, “Fucking fated mates.” Then louder, tells me, “Meet me at Keyman’s Bistro on Seventh Avenue in an hour. They have good paninis.” With that, he hangs up.
I’m going to have my hands full with my omega. My initial reaction is to snarl, angry that he would hang up on me, but it’s tamped down so fast, the thought can’t even form.
It doesn’t take me long to shower and get myself together. Instead of waiting around—and checking my hair and clothes over a hundred times—I decide to go to the bistro and wait. I’ll be about thirty minutes early, but that doesn’t matter.
While I wait, I try to get my thoughts together. There’s so much I want to tell him, so much I want him to know, but I can’t dump everything on him. Maybe give him a condensed version? He needs to know at some point, so he understands why I was a dick to him. It doesn’t excuse my behavior, but I hope he can at least understand.
Levi really fucked me up. The way our relationship ended was horrible, but I should have gotten over it years ago. I’ve been burying myself in work and trying to pretend I’m okay when I was far from it. I kept any omega I was the least bit interested in at arm’s length, hoping they didn’t want more than a fuck. For seven years, I’ve been getting away with it, getting off and getting out of there.
That’s why meeting and smelling Benjamin was such a shock. I’ve scented omegas before, but none were as intoxicating as he is. His scent smacked me in the face as soon as I stepped into the office. It was like a beacon, calling me to him. When he looked at me, his beautiful brown eyes shiny with friendliness, I knew I was a goner. I knew he would have the ability to hurt me like Levi did.
So I took the low road and made him think I was an asshole so he wouldn’t want to get to know me.
That worked out perfectly.
The bell above the door rings and my head snaps in that direction. Benjamin has on a hat and a pair of large sunglasses, sweatpants, and a large hoodie, but fucking hell, he looks amazing.
He walks over to the table and sits down gently, rubbing his forehead. I slide a coffee over to him and he smiles gratefully. I watch him take a sip and sigh, then swallow more down.
When he sets the drink down, he takes his shades off. “That’s perfect,” he murmurs, wrapping both hands around the cup. “Just the right amount of cream and sugar.”
“I know. I remember your order.” He raises an eyebrow at me. “You called in the order one day and I heard you. I remembered.” My face heats and I feel like an idiot. He made that order about two months ago and I remembered he liked five creams and three sugars.
After taking in my flushed face, Benjamin’s lips tip up a little. “Are you hungry?”
I incline my head to the counter. “I was waiting on you. What would you like?” He tells me what he wants and I go order. It doesn’t take long for them to have our paninis ready. They do look pretty good.
Sitting down, I slide his food over to him. I wait for him to take a bite before I dig in, pleased I was able to get him some nourishment. I’ll cook for him one day.
He groans around a bite, his hand over his mouth. “I love this place.”
I smile, taking a bite myself. I have to agree. Everything tastes really fresh and the cheese is melted perfectly. Looks like I may have found a new lunch spot.
We don’t talk while we eat, too busy stuffing our faces. I do notice that while I’m taking discreet glances at Benjamin, he’s doing the same to me. The usual look of contempt is missing, replaced with confusion. I’m sure the same look is mirrored back at him. This is new. Uncharted territory. I don’t know any fated mates, so I don’t know what to expect.
The idea of fated mates has been more myth than reality. The stories I’ve heard say instincts take over and mates do what comes naturally. I’ll do that and not worry about what’s right and what’s not.
After Benjamin's plate is empty, he pulls his coffee back and takes a small sip. I wipe my mouth with my napkin, then sip my lemonade. We have a stare off for a few moments, then Benjamin drops his head, rubbing his brow.
“Rome …”
