He knew that. He figured he’d make that decision when things got to that point. Or maybe never, with his current streak of avoiding Greg at all costs. “I’ll think about it.”
June sighed, still smiling. “I guess we’ll see.”
The wedding took place on the front lawns of the mansion, early September sunlight glinting off a delicate white gazebo.
To the right, gentle waves rumbled along the private beach, seagulls soaring above the glittering sea. To the left, a fountain tinkled in a garden of rose bushes, water spilling off three tiers of carved marble.
The guests were gathered in the seats facing the gazebo. They murmured and waited, turning to look when the flower girls walked down the aisle. Someone played on a piano to the side.
At the start of the carpet, Dale squirmed. There had to be two hundred people here, and he wasn’t used to that kind of attention, not anymore. Not when he was six months pregnant, and anyone could tell just by looking at his belly. There were probably some of his ex-students in the audience; June had mentioned inviting Penny.
Dale tugged on the white cotton blouse, wishing it were long enough to be tucked into his pants. It was a beautiful shirt, with lace collars and sleeves, and pearl buttons dotting down his chest, over his belly. It barely veiled his abdomen, allowing cool air to brush his skin from beneath.
“Are you ready?” the best alpha asked, offering Dale his elbow. Cam Brown was one of Cher’s best friends, all blue eyes and blond hair, his smile stunning. He was older, too, maybe in his fifties. Probably the sort of person who had his life together, complete with sailboat and private beach house.
If Dale wasn’t already in love with someone else, he’d have given Cam a second glance. Cam was the sort of alpha he should be seeing. But all he felt was weariness, and the ache of missing someone.
Dale smiled wanly. “Yes, I’m ready.”
He slipped his hand into the crook of Cam’s elbow. Behind, June whispered loudly, “You can do it!”
Dale wasn’t sure if she was talking to him, or Cher, but her words cheered him up. It was better than thinking about how he’d never have his own wedding, or his own alpha, or...
Cam led him down the aisle when the flower girls reached the end, their violet petals dotting the red carpet. Around, the guests murmured. Dale held his free hand by his side, fighting the urge to hold his belly, shield it from all the stares. He was old. He didn’t want to be reminded about how risky the pregnancy was.
Instead, he pretended that this was what his own wedding would look like: family and friends around him, people who cared that he’d be spending his life with someone he loved. Greg would be by his side, smiling at him, and everything would be okay.
In those moments, Dale allowed himself to think that maybe June was right, that there were people who would accept him and Greg despite their differences. Their friends would clap when he walked down the aisle with his alpha, and it wouldn’t matter that Greg was twenty-two, and Dale was in his forties.
They would exchange rings, and maybe their son would watch from the front row, his eyes alight with joy.
Dale breathed out as he stepped along the carpet, scanning the crowd for faces he recognized. He glimpsed Penny, who beamed and waved. He saw a couple of other post-doc students from two labs over, whom he’d seen around once in a while.
He saw Greg, his dark eyes fixed on Dale’s face, his lips pressed into a thin line.
Dale froze, his heart stumbling. Greg?
Greg still looked the same—tanned, his chestnut hair short, his inky eyes boring through Dale. He was wearing a crisp suit, a black jacket with a white shirt beneath, and black pants to match. For four months, Dale had thought about him every day, thought about his lips and his skin and his smile, and listened to his fifty-nine voice messages on repeat.
Looking at Greg now, Dale wanted like he’d never wanted before.
“Dale?” Cam murmured, squeezing his arm.
Dale blinked, suddenly too aware that there were people around them, that they were supposed to be walking down the aisle. His face burned. This was June’s wedding, not his. “Oh. I’m sorry.”
He looked at the carpet, matching his footsteps to Cam’s. His mind whispered, Greg’s here. Greg’s watching you.
When they turned at the end of the aisle, standing to one side of the gazebo, Dale chanced a look at the crowd again. Greg scowled from two rows away, glancing at Cam, then Dale. Does he think I’m with Cam?
Then Greg’s gaze dropped to Dale’s belly, and Dale slipped his hand over his abdomen, needing to touch his baby. He couldn’t deny that his baby was Greg’s, couldn’t deny the flush of warmth that unfurled through his chest. Greg’s looking at me.
The mellow notes of the piano grew louder, a cheerful wedding melody. The crowd turned to watch as June stepped down the aisle. Dale glanced at her—she looked fantastic, confident, but her eyes searched him out briefly. He frowned at her; she smiled, and Dale knew she’d set him up with Greg. He didn’t have the heart to swear.
And Greg was still watching him.
For the past two months, Dale had buried himself in work at the childcare center, reading up on how to care for babies and toddlers. He’d kept himself focused on fixing meals, eating healthy food, cleaning up his home to prepare for his baby.
But he’d ached for Greg the entire time, only allowing himself one voicemail a day. He’d followed Greg’s Facebook. Flipped through the pictures he’d secretly saved. Several times, he’d shoved his hand down his pants, thinking about his alpha, and he’d
