Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

I spend all of Sunday at home, mostly moping. Why didn’t I see this coming? All the signs were there. If I’d been paying attention with my brain instead of my vagina, maybe I would have seen it.

The howling. The smelling. The secrets.

Maybe they think they want commitment, but that’s just their hormones talking, whatever hormones werewolves have.

After obsessively cleaning my apartment all day, then ordering Chinese takeout, I stumble into bed thinking about Leon’s downtrodden face as he left my apartment. He might believe that I’m his “mate,” whatever that means, but I have no such certainty.

I don’t know if I can give him what he wants.

Going into work on Monday feels like walking to the gallows. The moment I sit down at my desk, I start obsessing over the numbers I had fudged so Mr. Bosley would get off my back. I bite my nails all day, thinking that surely someone from accounting is going to give me an earful, but it doesn’t happen. Clients and partners come and go, keeping both me and Mr. Bosley busy, and for once, I’m grateful for the distraction.

Around two in the afternoon, a familiar woman walks in the door. She’s dressed to kill, and honestly, her eyes could probably murder someone, too. But she stops when she sees me and the side of her mouth twitches in a smile.

“How’s it going with the two boyfriends?” she asks, pausing at my desk.

“Um…” I flounder for an answer. I’m not sure anymore after yesterday. “It’s not, I guess.”

She quirks an eyebrow. “Already?” With a shrug she adds, “Too bad.” Then she strides into Mr. Bosley’s office and closes the door.

Briefly I wonder if they’re having an affair. Mr. Bosley’s married to an uptight woman who drives a Range Rover, and they don’t seem to like each other much. But I have a hard time believing Mrs. Smith would stoop that low.

Soon I can hear Mr. Bosley’s raised voice behind the door. Whatever she has to say, it upsets him. Just great. He’ll probably take it out on me later. But after Mrs. Smith leaves, he doesn’t emerge for the rest of the day.

Unfortunately, I have dinner with my mom scheduled for tonight. I definitely can’t tell her about Leon, Jace and Quinn. Not that it will matter, or last long enough to be necessary.

Something about that thought makes my heart sink. While it’s difficult to imagine a future where I share my life with not one, not two, but three people, I also don’t want to imagine one without them. I want to get to know them better, understand them better, maybe see if I can feel that deep connection they clearly feel with me.

At the end of the day, I find the black SUV in the parking lot again. I watch it carefully as I pull out onto the street, but this time, it remains where it is.

Nobody’s following me. It’s just my anxiety acting up, like always.

Back at my apartment, I pick out one of my “mom-appropriate” outfits: a flowy top that hides my belly and a pair of tummy-control slacks. I hate how I look in it, but it will give Mom fewer things to gripe about.

Dinner starts with the usual interrogation. Usually her niggling comments wash over me like water because I’ve grown so used to them. Tonight, though, it’s tugging at a deeper part of me. I remember Leon’s question: Have you ever told her how you feel?

The idea of actually letting my mother know how her words hurt me has always been far, far out of the question. All it would do is set her even more staunchly in her ways. My mom has always believed she’s without flaw, and pointing one out wouldn’t go well, I’m sure of it. She’s obsessed with how she appears to others, and suggesting that maybe she isn’t as good of a mother as she thinks she is would challenge everything she believes about herself.

And yet, I’m stewing under the surface as Mom starts in on how one of her friends has a son who’s gainfully employed, and just got out of a bad relationship. Mom even knows his salary, which she counts off to me with her fingers.

“It might be a good match for you,” she says, tut-tutting. “We already know he comes from a good family, and I don’t think he’s terrible to look at.”

What a high bar for a partner. I roll my eyes.

Mom has tried to set me up before, and only once have I ever accepted. It was one of the worst dates of my life, and like every guy I’ve met before, all he wanted was a fling. We hooked up, and then he never called again.

I need some way to set my mother off course, because turning down her proposal will make her unbearable for the rest of the night. The next thing that comes out of my lips is not something I anticipated saying, but it’s the only thing that will shut her up.

“I have a boyfriend already.”

I cover my mouth as if I can pull the words back in. Shit. Now she’s going to want to know everything about him, and I’ll have to lie. I’m not a great liar.

Mom’s eyebrows fly high on her forehead. “What? You have a boyfriend?” She huffs with annoyance. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? You could have called me! That’s a big deal, Tiffany.”

I fumble for an excuse. “I didn’t know if it was serious yet.” Though Leon made it pretty clear last night just how serious he is about me. How serious all three of them are about me.

“You should have told me when you had a date.” Mom looks deeply offended. “I could have helped you pick something out.”

I sigh. Like usual, she wants to control me, all the way down to what I wear on a date.

“Why would I have asked you?” I suddenly feel bold. “You would have just told me everything I own looks bad, or that I should tuck my tummy in.”

Mom’s eyes go wide and her mouth drops open. “That’s not true! How could you say that?”

I want to tell her everything: how her words chew away at me one piece at a time, each of her comments burying themselves in my flesh like tiny daggers, but I don’t know if she could possibly hear me above the noise of her own ego.

“Whatever,” I finally say as our food arrives. “Doesn’t matter now. He liked me enough to ask me to be his girlfriend, so I must have done an okay job of dressing myself.”

Mom doesn’t answer as she starts eating. The meal passes mostly in silence, which is odd, because usually she’s spouting off about the latest work drama by now, her food lying untouched. Her silence is deafening.

Have I actually hurt her feelings?

“Well, tell me about him,” Mom says eventually, putting down her fork. “What does he do for work?”

Of course, the thing she’s most interested in is what kind of job this hypothetical boyfriend has. I think for a moment about making something up, something she would approve of. But why should I have to lie? The guys clearly love their work. They’re happy doing it, and they live a good lifestyle.

“He’s a landscaper,” I say.

It’s hard to read the look on her face. “Hmm. So he works outside all day?”

I nod uneasily. “Five days a week.”

“Not exactly a high-paying job,” she says, and I groan. Of course. “What?” she snaps. “It’s not!”

I want to slap my past self across the face for even mentioning it.

“So what if it isn’t a six-figure job?” I ask, my tone pinched. “They’re happy, and that’s what matters.”

I don’t realize what I’ve said until my mom’s food spills off her fork.

“They?” she asks, arching one eyebrow.

“I mean, he’s happy.” I hastily try to come up with a correction that’ll get her off my back. “He has three brothers, too. They own a company together.”

Her eyes brighten at this. “Oh, he owns his own landscaping company ? Well, that’s different then, isn’t it?” I don’t like how wide and bright her smile has become. “How’d you score that, Tiffany?”

The way she says it, as if I should be so lucky, makes me grind my teeth together.

“I met him when I was out jogging.” There. That’s close enough to the truth that she should leave me alone.

“You met him in your workout clothes?” she asks, a tinge of horror in her voice.

I don’t know if I can take it anymore.

“Yes. I did.” Something in me sparks to life after already telling her one truth tonight. “He thought I was hot, so he called me over and asked me out.”

That’s one way to spin the guys howling at me from across the street.

Mom gapes at me like she can’t even conceive of it. “And you said yes? To some strange guy?”

“Yep.” I plaster on a big smile. “He’s a good man, and no, you can’t meet him.”

“You’re so defensive tonight,” Mom grumbles. “Is this all because of this boyfriend ? He’s turning you against me?”

It’s just like her to assume that we’re on opposite sides of a war. But I don’t want to fight this fight tonight, so I decide to back off and live to pick up the torch another day.

“No. I’m tired, Mom, that’s all.” I push away my empty plate of food and stand up. “I should get going so I can get some sleep tonight.”

She squints in a way I can only interpret as mischievous. “Is he keeping you up late?”

It sets me off-balance. Is she honestly joking with me? About my sex life?

I feel my whole face get hot, and Mom laughs when I don’t respond right away.

“Question answered,” she says, and I’m stunned by her playful jab. “Well, I won’t keep you out, then. But I hope you’ll introduce him to me.” Then, of course, she adds, “If it works out that long.”

And I had such high hopes for her.

That night, I don’t hear from Leon, Jace, or Quinn.

I’m not sure why I expected to after Leon agreed to give me space. They’re all just doing what I wanted. And this is what I want, right? To have some time to think, and decide if I’m up for being someone’s mate ?

Or the mate of three someones. Whatever that word means.

I’m surprised when my phone lets out a little ping! and a new text message arrives. I don’t recognize the number, but it’s local.

Hey, Tiff, it’s Eli. Leon gave me your number.

I gape down at my phone screen. Eli, of all people? The sweet brother who helped me during my anxiety attack? Who then sat in the back of the truck and moped without even saying hello?

Oh, hi

I don’t know what else to say.

I know you’re overwhelmed right now. Please don’t think that because you haven’t heard from my brothers that they don’t care about you.

My brow furrows. He’s reaching out on Leon, Jace and Quinn’s behalf? Is he going to interfere and argue their case?

Another message appears.

Remember to take deep breaths. Everything will be okay.

I don’t know what to say, but I can hear the words spoken in Eli’s soft voice, and that steadies my nerves. I quickly type a message back.

Thanks for reaching out. I’m not sure what I want yet.

The answer comes immediately.

That’s all right. They’ll wait for you. Take your time to sort out your feelings.

But for how long? And do I want them to wait?

I read over the messages again, remembering how he told me to breathe, how he held my hand. That he reached out now, at my most uncertain—I feel like Eli understands me.

I appreciate it, Eli

He hearts my message and doesn’t reply. The other brothers are all so open and stumbling over themselves to tell me how they feel, but Eli is a mystery to me.

I avoid jogging by the landscaping site the next morning. It would be too awkward. Instead, I take a different route to the park, which unfortunately makes my jog longer. I’m almost late to work, but when I get in, Mr. Bosley isn’t even there.

I find a message on my phone. “I’ll be out all morning looking at some, um, project locations,” Mr. Bosley tells the answering machine. I shiver at the uneasy tone of his voice. “Cancel my morning meetings.”

It’s a pain, but I’m able to move everyone to later in the week. Still, when afternoon comes, there’s no Mr. Bosley. It’s actually a rather lovely day, and I start wishing I had a date with one of the guys to look forward to.

And I always have my friends. Maybe if I can come at least somewhat clean with them about the landscapers, they can help me figure out what to do.