16. Leo

Less than a day after my heat is over, I'm clutching the bottle of wine in my lap with a death grip as Steve parks in front of a colonial house.

"What if they don't like me?" I ask.

"Not possible. Ever since I told them your name on Sunday, they've been binge-watching your movies and texting me about how great you are in every one of them."

Oh my God. They've seen me do sex scenes with people who are not their son. This is going to be so awkward.

"But seriously, Steve. What if they don't like me? Would we break up?"

He takes the wine from me and sets it on the middle console. Then he grasps both of my hands in his. "In the unlikely event that my parents don't love you, I will have a conversation with them about why I want to be with you and we'll discuss any concerns they may have. They're not unreasonable people, okay? They just want me to be happy, and you make me very happy."

Less than a week ago, we were sitting in this same car, escaping the camera crew camped out at my house. He looks so different to me now. I don't even notice his bushy eyebrows. All I see are the strong lines of his face and how big his body is. I want to curl onto his lap and ask him to hold me. During my heat I had an excuse to demand his body and his time, but now we have to return to the real world. I don't know if I'm ready yet. A part of me wishes my heat could last forever.

"Can I go back to your place after dinner and sleep in your bed?" I ask, even though it sounds pathetic. I am so addicted to this man.

His lips quirk up on one side. "I was hoping you would. I've gotten used to sleeping with my little spoon."

My stomach fills with butterflies. This is why I'm head over heels. He isn't just handsome, he's sweet. How could anyone resist that combination?

"But we're not moving in together yet," I clarify. "We just barely met."

He pauses for a long beat. "I think you should have your own place for as long as you want, but I don't love the idea of sleeping apart."

I don't love that idea either.

"Let's talk about this later, when I'm not freaking out about meeting your dads," I suggest.

"Good plan." He grabs the wine and climbs out of the car. This is it. After a week of falling steadily for Steve in the privacy of his apartment, we're now taking our relationship into the real world.

I haven't been this nervous since my first day on a film set.

I follow Steve up the driveway and onto the porch. He gives me back the wine and opens the door.

"Hey, Dads. I'm home!" he calls out.

The living room is decorated with antique furniture, much like Steve's apartment, with picture frames everywhere. Many of them are of Steve as a young boy, grinning at the camera while fishing, holding a baseball bat, or sitting on Santa Claus's lap. I get so distracted by the pictures, I almost don't notice the older omega who emerges from the hallway.

He has more gray hair than he did in Steve's graduation photo, and his belly is a little rounder. He smiles at me.

"Dad, this is Leo. Leo, this is my omega dad. His name is Tim."

Tim holds out his arms to me. I step forward hesitantly. He wraps his arms around me gently. "It's good to meet you."

Another man comes down the stairs. He's as tall as Steve and has his same wide shoulders. In many ways, he looks like an older version of my boyfriend.

"This is Leo. Leo, this is my alpha dad. His name is Tony."

Tony pulls me in for a hug that is not gentle at all. "Welcome! Steve said you like nachos, so we made nachos. We made a lot of nachos. Probably too many. We figured you'd be hungry after your heat, and we were nervous because it's not every day that you meet the guy your son has a 92% compatibility with. You're practically family."

Now I know where Steve's tendency to ramble comes from.

"We're still figuring out where our relationship is at, Dad. We don't want to take things too fast."

Tony holds up his hands. "I totally understand. I knew your omega dad was the man for me by our third date. I also knew that if I told him I was ready to marry him, he'd think I was nuts and never speak to me again. Sometimes you have to bide your time."

Tim takes his husband's hand. "Don't tell them our dating story or we'll scare poor Leo away. Let's go eat those nachos."

They turn around and walk further into the house.

See?Steve mouths. I told you they would like you.

We follow his dads into a white kitchen with a large island. As promised, three cookie sheets covered in nachos wait for us. They smell amazing.

"We have all the fixings in separate bowls. We only heated the cheese and meat with the chips," Tim says, handing me a plate. "Have as much as you want. I remember how hungry I used to get after my heats."

"We used to order two pizzas because he'd polish off an entire pizza by himself," Tony says. "There was this one time we were in this remote cabin, and there wasn't a pizza place nearby. We just had these cans of beans. How many cans did you eat?"

Tim laughs. "I don't know. Four? My stomach was angry at me after that."

They chat easily about their memories and the food while putting nachos on their plates. It's all very casual. I'm just as hungry as they planned for, and I pile my plate high with chips, adding in generous portions of salsa, sour cream, and jalapenos.

"I have to ask. What was it like working with Robert Lockwood?" Tony says.

Of course. Steve warned me that his alpha dad was obsessed with Batman.

"He's nice. Very into health and fitness. He only drinks water. He doesn't even drink coffee or tea."

Tony grins from ear to ear. "That's fascinating. Are his abs real?"

My first conversation with Steve's alpha dad is hilariously similar to my first conversation with him.

"I don't know," I admit. "He didn't say."

"Right. That makes sense. I was excited to see that you'll be starring in Nightsleuth. It's one of my favorite comics, and I think you're perfect for it."

My stomach drops. "Where did you hear about that?" I wasn't aware that anyone knew I'd been cast in that role. Especially not now that I've been dropped.

"In the press release they put out yesterday," Tony says. He pulls out his phone and swipes the screen a few times, then hands it to me.

Sure enough there is an article titled, Leo Sanders to Play Nightsleuth in New Film Adaptation of the Classic Comic. At first I wonder if the information got leaked before the producers could update the casting information, but as I scan through the article I realize it's a standard press release. Dan Kirby, the director, is even quoted. "I'm a big fan of Leo. I think he's the perfect choice for Nightsleuth's snarky personality. He may have a wild personal life, but he's always professional on set. I stand by my decision to cast him."

That's when I realize Greg never confirmed the producers' decision to drop me from the project. He only said they were considering it. After Dan said something like that, it might be safe to assume I still have the role.

Just a week ago, I'd be relieved. This is my foot in the door to rebuild a career with another agent. But I meant it when I told Steve that I need a break.

"My contract on that film has gone back and forth. I'm still not sure if it will happen," I say, honestly.

Steve slides an arm across my back. "If you still want to do it, I can travel to wherever you are a few days a week. We don't have to be long-distance."

"Or all week. If you need to work remotely for a few months, that's okay." Tony reaches for more chips like we're talking about the weather, instead of the primary reason why none of my romantic relationships have worked out.

I'm still not sure I want the role. Superhero movies mean skin-tight suits, which would mean a strict diet and living at the gym. I don't know if I'm ready for that yet. But at least I have a choice. I don't have to walk away from my acting career because there's no other option.

"We need to show you the photo album," Tim says.

Steve laughs. "You and that damn album. No one needs to see what I looked like with braces."

"Ooo, I want to see," I joke.

Tim sets his plate down on the counter. "I'll be right back."

"At least he took out the bath pictures. When your omega dad met my parents, there were two pages of bath photos." Tony says. He sits down on a barstool next to the counter. Steve joins him, still smiling. Clearly, he's not that worried about me seeing him in braces.

Tim returns with a thick binder stuffed full of plastic pages. He hands it to me. "Steve was such a cute little boy."

I put my plate down and take the binder from him. Each page has four photos tucked into a plastic sleeve. It starts with baby photos. Steve had the chubbiest cheeks. I take my time, mulling over each page of him lying in cribs and sucking on his rattle. It makes me wonder what our children would look like.

The baby photos transition to toddler photos. The backgrounds of the photos speak volumes. Steve was at the aquarium, zoo, Disneyland, the beach, the aviary, and the library all in a small window of time. In every photo, his alpha dad is carrying him or holding his hand.

"The two of you spent a lot time together," I say to Tony.

His lips spread into a familiar wide smile. "We still do."

"My omega dad was there too," Steve tells me. "Always behind the camera."

Tim sits next to Steve. "I liked taking pictures of the two of you."

I flip through the rest of the photo album. Steve's braces make an appearance, as well as several omegas in his high school dance photos. As I get to the end, I realize my dads probably don't have a photo album like this at their house. I was a little wild, even in high school, and that's when the distance between us started. My omega dad caught me in the back seat with an alpha when I was sixteen. He grounded me, but more than that, he distanced himself from me emotionally. I remember the coldness between us.

There's no coldness in the relationship Steve has with his dads. If I had kids with him, I don't think there would be any coldness in our relationship with them either. In fact, I imagine he'll be a lot like his alpha dad when he becomes a parent.

"Thank you for sharing that with me," I say, handing the photo album back to Tim.

"Will you let me take a picture of you and Steve?" he asks. "We can add it to the end."

The corners of my eyes burn with the tears that threaten to fall. Just like that, Steve's dads are ready to add me to their beautiful book of happy memories.

"Okay," I say.

He pulls out his phone and holds out it in front of him. "Stand up, Steve."

Steve jumps up and without any warning, wraps his big arms around me. Tim snaps photos as Steve holds me close.

It's exactly the kind of love I've always hoped for: warm and happy. Steve fills my heart as well as he fills my body during sex. There's such an abundance of everything good with him that I'm not sure I can take it all in without being ruined for anyone else.

I decide I don't care. Steve is it for me. I want this photo to be the first of many in Tim's stuffed photo album. It doesn't matter if I've been hurt before. I won't let my fear or insecurity ruin this opportunity for something good in my life.

Tim lowers his phone, and I notice his eyes are glassy too. "You two are such a cute couple. Come here. I need to hug you again."

He embraces me at the same time as his son. Tony joins in, putting his big arms around us all. It's a bit cheesy, and if I'm honest, a lot to take in all at once. But it feels good.

The best part is that it's real. I got so lost in the glamour and money of Hollywood, I forgot what realness was like. The sad thing is, there's no true intimacy without realness—no way to bond with someone unless you let your walls down.

I think intimacy was what I was looking for the night I went to the orgy. I wanted to connect with someone—to experience a bond. It didn't happen that night, but in a round-about way, that orgy is why I'm here with three people who feel like the family I've been searching for.

Maybe my wildness isn't so bad after all.