“How old are you, again?” Bernard asked, a crinkle on his brow.
“Twenty-five, but age is just a number, isn’t it?” She glanced at Greg. Greg froze, wondering if she was talking about Dale.
“Yeah. Age doesn’t mean anything to me.”
“It should,” Bernard said, frowning at him. “You’ll share more interests if you’re closer in age. You’d also be more biologically compatible, but I guess a three-year difference isn’t quite so terrible.”
Penny’s smile faded, and Greg stopped looking at her. He didn’t want her pity. He’d known what he was heading into, pursuing Dale.
A waiter breezed in then, setting a glass of water down for Greg. Greg gave him his drink order, and the waiter left.
“You seem a bright young omega, Penny. Why don’t you share your interests with us?” Bernard asked. “I’m sure Greg would love to know more about you.”
Greg sighed. His father’s watch read 7:25. Dale was taking his time, wasn’t he?
Penny listed crafts and sewing, talking about each in detail. Bernard nodded along; Greg smiled at her, thinking if he showed some interest, his father would stop inviting more omegas to dinner. And maybe he would eventually accept that Greg wanted to live his own life, prestige be damned.
“I figured I would try mountain-climbing this year,” Penny said, sipping from her glass. “I have a couple of friends who—”
The host moved across the doorway, and Dale stepped in with an easy smile, running his hand through his hair. “I hope I’m not late—it’s not even 7:30, and you’re all already here!”
Greg had intended to glance at his omega, then look away. But Dale strode into the room, his damp hair gleaming softly, his dress shirt clinging to his arms, his pants hugging his thighs. He was wearing his favorite leather shoes, all polished for the occasion, and even though Greg had already admired him back home, his omega looked radiant now, his posture at ease, his smile charming.
He was putting on an act, and he could’ve fooled everyone, Greg included.
“Oh,” Penny said softly.
Greg glanced at her—she had been staring at him, not Dale, and Greg’s stomach tightened. He’d been obvious about Dale, hadn’t he?
But Bernard Hastings was still looking at Dale, that same appraising look in his eyes. He stood, reaching out to shake Dale’s hand, his nostrils flaring. “Dr. Kinney,” Bernard Hastings said. “Thanks for joining us.”
“It’s my pleasure to meet all of you,” Dale said, still smiling. He nodded at Penny, never once looking at Greg. When Bernard released his hand, Dale sat in the last seat between Greg and his father, his scent a faint hibiscus. Greg’s aspen scent was no longer on his skin.
“I could have remembered wrong from the last time we met,” Bernard said, his nostrils flaring. “But it seems your scent has changed.”
Greg tensed, and so did Dale.
“When are you expecting?” Bernard asked, the sternness melting away from his face. “Forgive me. I got ahead of myself. Congratulations to you and...?”
The breath in Greg’s lungs turned into ice. After weeks of smelling the faint honey notes of Dale’s pregnancy, Greg had missed it while spraying down Dale’s clothes with suppressant.
Dale’s smile slipped for a second. Then he grinned brighter than before—ten thousand megawatts of a fake smile. “Charles,” Dale said. “Charles and I are expecting in December.”
Greg’s heart pounded loud and angry, a visceral reaction he barely controlled. Mine, he wanted to say.
But why had Dale mentioned Charles, instead of a make-believe alpha? Had Charles been so deeply burned into his mind that it was the only other name he could think of?
Greg wanted to pummel this Charles person into mulch, and pull Dale close and hug him. Both of which he couldn’t do right now.
Dale still hadn’t looked at Greg. Bernard Hastings nodded approvingly. Next to Greg, Penny’s mouth had fallen open. Her eyes darted between Greg and Dale, and Greg wanted to say, That’s my baby.
“Congrats, Professor,” Penny said, glancing at Greg.
Greg dipped his chin, and Penny smiled. It cooled the heat in his chest somewhat; Penny, at least, acknowledged him and Dale without judgment.
“Gregory,” Bernard said, his forehead creasing. “Your manners. Your professor is expecting.”
He stared at his father, a million thoughts flooding through his mind. Of course he’s expecting. But when Greg glanced at Dale, he found his omega watching him hesitantly. As though Dale was afraid Greg would snap at his father, maybe ruin this dinner.
Greg swallowed. That wasn’t his intention. He held his hand out over the table, waiting for Dale. “Congrats.”
Dale blinked, surprised. Then he slipped his sweaty hand into Greg’s, like they hadn’t held hands a hundred times before. Except they were touching in front of Bernard Hastings now. And Greg hadn’t actually said congratulations, had he?
“I mean it,” Greg said, smiling when he squeezed Dale’s hand. Dale had thought himself infertile for so long. Charles’ parents had shamed him for it. That he was carrying Greg’s child now... It was a miracle. And Greg hadn’t told him that enough.
Dale’s shoulders relaxed by a fraction. He squeezed Greg’s hand, and Greg held on a second longer, before releasing him.
“Thanks,” Dale croaked.
The table was too wide. They were seated too far away for their knees to touch. But Greg stretched his leg out, hooked his foot around Dale’s ankle, and Dale looked down at his cutlery, a blush rising up his neck. He was beautiful like that, beautiful every time Greg looked at him, and Greg wanted to present him with a ring. Before Dale decided he wasn’t good enough.
“Greg,” Penny said.
He glanced up to find his father looking between him and Dale. He’d been staring at Dale too long. Fuck.
“Your interests,” Greg said to Penny. “You were talking about mountain-climbing.”
“Oh, yes. My friends and I are planning a hiking trip this year,” she said, smiling at Bernard. Bernard refocused on her. “We were planning
