Sarah
I wake up in my bed to bright, unforgiving winter sunlight shooting directly into my retinas. I wince, covering my eyes with my forearm.
I have very vague memories of getting back to my bedroom in Sydney’s house. I remember being lifted and carried but thought maybe I was dreaming. I’m sure I dreamt it, actually, because it was the man of the house himself who lovingly carried me to bed after I’d fallen asleep face down in the center of the atrium, surrounded by potting soil and discarded flower stems.
I can still smell him, though. That rich, forest scent laced with musk and sandalwood.
It wasn’t a dream.
I blink rapidly to adjust my eyes to the blinding sunlight and squint at the clock on the bedside table.
My scream echoes through the room as I leap out of bed and fall onto the ground, my ankle caught in the bedsheet.
I’m still in my clothes from yesterday. Dirt smudges the sheets as I yank the fabric away in an absolute panic and run toward the door.
It’s 11:00 AM. I should have been downstairs working, making sure everything is absolutely flawless.
I stop dead in my tracks when I hear an engine roar to life and whirl to the windows overlooking the driveway, finding it impossible to swallow.
“No, no, no!” I run to the window, frantic, and watch as the two box trucks full of my flowers drive away.
I wasn’t ready. I didn’t mean to fall asleep. Everything needed to be perfect. I needed to make sure every petal and stem was in the right place before the trucks left this morning but now….
Tears well in my eyes as my hands start to shake, but then the door opens wide.
“Good morning–”
“It’s 11:00!” I shout, whirling toward the door, but then I freeze.
Sydney is standing in the doorway holding Blake. My son is looking right at me, content in Sydney’s arms.
“What did you do?” I whisper, my hands curling into fists. “I needed to finish–”
“I found you in that atrium at five this morning, Sarah. I brought you to bed. Everything looked great–”
“I wasn’t done. Everything needs to p-perfect.” I can’t calm myself down. My whole body tenses as Sydney steps into the room looking concerned. He skillfully adjusts Blake in his arms, resting him against his shoulder.
“It was perfect. I assure you. I already sent pictures to my mom and she’s–”
I cover my face with my hands to hide the flood of crimson creeping over my cheeks.
“Sarah,” Sydney coaxes, closer than before. “Everything is fine. Everything is perfect. I… we’re both truly in awe, my mom and I, of what you were able to accomplish in so little time.”
He steps closer. I feel him hesitate before gently laying a hand on my shoulder.
I peek up at him through my fingers, noticing how Blake is trying to gnaw on his shoulder, banging his head as he roots around.
Sydney’s touch is… grounding. An instant, calming sensation that blurs and dismantles the spiral of anxiety threatening to pull me under and drown me.
“Where’s Cosette?” I ask, lowering my hands.
Sydney doesn’t back away as he replies, “She’s very busy this morning. She insisted on making your dress for tonight, but I just cooked a quick breakfast downstairs for you. I fed Blake earlier but he’s hungry again–”
I ignore everything else he just said and ask, “My what?”
“Your gown for the party tonight.”
I blink, absently reaching for Blake, who squawks in protest before calming into my touch and familiar scent. “Why would I need a gown?”
“You’re going to the party, of course,” Sydney laughs, retreating a step.
I turn from him, unbuttoning my filthy shirt and realizing how much of a mess I am for the first time this morning. I desperately need a shower, but Blake is clawing my chest with his little nails in desperation to nurse.
I don’t turn back to Sydney, who has retreated to the door at this point, as I help Blake latch.
I’m not sure I understand. “So I can make sure all the arrangements are in place?”
“No, you’re going as my–my guest. My mom wants to meet you.”
My heart falls into my stomach as I look at him over my shoulder. Me? Meet the queen? “I’m not sure,” I tell him.
Sydney faces the door, his hands tucked in the pockets of a casual pair of jeans. He’s wearing a dark blue sweater nearly the same shade as his eyes. He glances at me, his cheeks going ruddy.
He’s trying to give me as much privacy as he can allow right now without leaving the room while Blake nurses.
I wonder why he’s still here, but then he says, “Was something wrong yesterday?”
Great. He caught that. He noticed I’d been avoiding him at all costs after seeing his brother and Hadley.
“No. Well… maybe. Yes.”
He arches a brow.
Blake sighs deeply and promptly falls asleep still latched. I release him with a wince and adjust my shirt before turning to fully face Sydney. “I hate that Hadley is roped into this. Her brother…”
“Is an asshole, I know,” Sydney says with a soft, confirming smile. “Ryan has his hands tied in that department, I’m afraid. James is his Beta.”
“I don’t want her to get in trouble because of me.”
“I understand. I should have told you they were coming. Hadley didn’t give Ryan much of a choice when she found out where you were.”
I nod, but my stomach is in knots.
“You don’t like people getting too close to you, do you?” he asks, and the question hits me right in the heart.
“I’m used to being alone in the world. It’s not easy for me to trust others.”
“I understand,” he says, and that's it. No further prying needed on his part.
I’m surprised by that, honestly. Would I have told him the truth about where my anxiety and difficulty trusting others comes from anyway?
Probably not.
Definitely not.
He tilts his head toward Blake. “Can I take him so you can shower and eat?”
I nod and surprise myself by doing so. He comes forward again, closing the distance between us, and takes Blake in his strong arms. The sight of them together, and that slight smile on Sydney’s face as he looks down at my son, does something to my body, to my heart, that I quickly banish.
We’re safe here. Blake is safe here. That’s all that matters. The warmth in my heart that threatens to spill throughout my chest and force my guard down doesn’t matter.
“I’ll just be in my office with him,” Sydney says, smiling.
“Are you sure? He can be wiggly and fussy–”
“It’s nice having him around,” Sydney shrugs, and with that, he leaves, closing the door behind him.
I stand there for a moment, dumbfounded, then walk into the ensuite like a ghost and take a shower. My mind is totally blank, and it’s likely that I’m in shock. My body still feels all tingling from what I was sure was about to be a panic attack before Sydney touched me.
I rinse soil from my hair and scrub my fingers until the stains from the rose petals are gone.
When I step out of the bathroom a half hour later, wrapped in a towel, Cosette is bustling into the room wheeling a cart full of makeup and hair supplies.
“Oh, good, you’re awake,” she huffs, her face slightly red from excretion.
“What’s all that?” I ask nervously.
She beams at me with mischief lighting behind her eyes.
* * *
“You’re wasting your time,” I tell her, wincing as she sets another tight curl with a roller. “My hair won’t hold a curl.”
“You act like I haven’t seen all of those pictures of you and your girlfriends that Alpha Sydney saved from your apartment,” she chides, spraying my head liberally with hairspray.
I cough, and she swats my shoulder. “You’re too beautiful to not be dressing up and showing yourself off still.”
“I had a baby a couple of weeks ago,” I remind her, and that sinking feeling sets in again.
I’ve always had curves, but I never considered myself a total bombshell. Now, I’m softer all over, rounder, and nothing fits right–especially around my breasts.
I’m not sure how Cosette means to stuff me in whatever gown she made for me today, but I’m truly along for the ride as she fixes my hair and starts doing my makeup.
It does feel good to do this–getting ready. Having my nails scrubbed, clipped, and filed until they’re gleaming with a pleasant “ballerina pink” polish is nice. But as the day drags on, and the clouds start to darken the sky, I start to feel nervous.
“Is there a reason why Sydney wants me to go with him other than that his mother wants to meet me?”
“She’ll love you,” Cosette says, a bit dreamily. “I’m so thrilled.”
“Cosette,” I urge, closing my eyes as she brushes blush over my cheeks and the tip of my nose.
Cosette just shrugs her slim shoulder and clicks her tongue. “I’m sure our Alpha is just as nervous as you are.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “It’s not like I’m going as his date.”
“Sure, darling,” she smiles, stepping back to admire her work. She checks the slim watch on her dainty wrist and yelps, setting the makeup in her hands down on the vanity. “We need to get you dressed right this instant. I’m sure Alpha Sydney is already waiting for you downstairs.”
I reach for the breast pump, which I’m not a huge fan of, and get to work while Cosette rushes out of the room to fetch the dress I haven’t seen yet.
Blake is asleep in the room next door. I’m thankful he sleeps so well and long here and that he’ll have Cosette with him tonight, but I haven’t been away from him yet, and the idea of going across town for an evening makes my chest go tight with worry.
When Cosette returns with a dress bag and a pair of strappy, dainty lavender heels in her hands, some of that worry dissolves.
Cosette loves us. Both of us. She’d never let anything happen to Blake.
I stand and let Cosette flutter around me, helping me into a silk slip that sits at my waist. It’s the only underwear I’m being given, apparently, as I cover my breasts with my hands.
“Oh, please,” she says, waving a hand at me.
“I don’t need a bra with it?”
“Women would fight tooth and claw for breasts like yours, Sarah. You should enjoy them while they last.”
I frown at her, but that frown turns into a perfect O as she pulls the most beautiful gown I’ve ever seen in my life out of the dress bag.
The lavender shade of silk is a perfect match to my eyes.
I’m speechless as Cosette helps me into the dress, zipping it up for me. The back of the dress is low, nearly to my waist, and the fabric of the skirt is ruched around my waist and belly, and falls to the floor in rippling, glimmering purple silk. I adjust the thin spaghetti straps and stare at my reflection in the full length mirror as Cosette makes small adjustments to the fit.
“There’s padding in the bodice in case you leak milk,” Cosette says as she runs a sewing needle through one of the straps to reinforce the hold. “You’ll need me to help you out of this when you get home tonight, though. Don’t worry, I’ll be awake.”
She motions for me to sit down which is honestly a little difficult. The dress is tight, fitting every curve like a glove tailored to fit every inch of my curves.
I watch Cosette take the rollers out of my hair, twirling each curl around her finger before letting them flow down my back, then sweeps my hair into a classy updo that makes me look…
“Like a princess,” she whispers, smiling over the top of my head at my reflection.
I try to swallow but find it impossible.
This dress–this entire look–seems almost too much for being a guest of the Alpha, a guest who’s just there because I did the flowers.
“All right, we’re done,” Cosette murmurs, spraying me with perfume, then she quickly ushers me out of the bedroom, telling me that everything is fine, and Blake has enough milk, and she’ll call Sydney if there’re any problems.
But my head is spinning so much as I round the corner to the staircase landing overlooking the foyer.
Time slows to a crawl when I spot Sydney in a beautifully fitted black-on-black tuxedo, his unruly hair swept back away from his shaven face.
His eyes go wide, and his mouth pops open in disbelief as I wobble on the top step.
He doesn’t even try to hide his expression.
He thinks I’m stunning, and that realization works its way through every fiber of my being and sets fire to the feelings I’ve been trying to keep locked away–forgotten.
Cosette looks between us, smug, as we reach the foyer.
“No rush coming home tonight,” she grins, giving Sydney a look, then disappears around a corner.