“Thanks, Greg,” Dale said, kissing his alpha on the lips. Greg smiled, and they shared a soft look.
Raph wondered if that would ever happen with him and Wyatt, when their child was born. Would they go out together in public? Would Wyatt want to be seen with him? In Highton, no one would know who they were, and maybe they could relax around each other like this couple did.
“I think his alpha did his hair,” Hazel whispered.
Raph glanced at her, so they wouldn’t catch him staring. “Yeah?”
But it made sense, when Dale looked down at their baby, and Greg tucked Dale’s hair behind his ear. They looked over and smiled at Hazel and Raph, and as they left the diner, Greg slipped his arm around Dale’s waist.
“Aww,” Hazel said. She turned with a bright smile. “Dad helps me with my braids sometimes—I can’t do the French ones. Will you help?”
“How...?” Raph had never done braids. He’d watched Penny tie them, but she’d always done them herself.
Hazel squirmed out of the booth, pulling the hair tie from her ponytail. Then she plunked herself on the edge of Raph’s seat, turning her back to him.
“I don’t even know how to tie braids,” Raph said.
“There’s videos on YouTube. Here.” Hazel grabbed her phone from across the table, pulling up the YouTube app. In seconds, she had a how-to video playing. “This one is a basic braid. Try it first.”
While Hazel separated her hair into three segments, Raph watched the video. He gathered her hair into his hands, crossed two bunches together, and fitted the third in the middle. When he reached the end of the basic braid, he tied it again. “Guess it’s not so bad.”
“Yay! I really want a French braid,” Hazel said, tapping on her phone again. “Here’s my favorite French braid video. I want it around my head in a line like that.”
She pointed to a spot somewhere behind her temple, and trailed a sloping line around the side of her head. Kind of like those elf omegas in the movies, with the twigs and leaves woven into their hair. Raph nodded solemnly, hoping he wouldn’t screw up. He managed people for a living, not tied braids.
It turned out that French braids were the most fiddly, complex things ever. Raph had thought he’d do okay, since he’d tied the basic braids. But the French braids required him to add tiny segments of hair to each bundle. And Hazel’s hair was soft, silky, slipping out of his fingers like water.
He messed up thrice. On the fourth attempt, Wyatt stopped by the table, an amused smile on his lips. “You look like you need help, Raph.”
Raph’s face heated. “I’ve never done braids before, okay.”
He thought Wyatt might laugh at him, or feed him some line about Hazel tying better braids. Instead, Wyatt said, “You’re doing really well for a beginner.”
Raph chanced a look up at him. Wyatt’s eyes were honest, his smile fond.
Hazel beamed. “I like Uncle Raph. He practiced with the normal braids first, like you taught me. I think he’ll get really good at tying my hair.”
Raph couldn’t help snorting. “You want me to braid your hair forever?”
Hazel looked at him sideways, her hair slipping through his fingers again. “Yes.”
And Raph didn’t know what this was, with Hazel so comfortable with him, and Wyatt looking down at them both, his eyes shining.
He was moving slower than usual, though. Raph saw how drained he was. “You need to rest for a bit. You look dead on your feet.”
“Surely I don’t.” Wyatt rubbed his face on his sleeve, but he was slow doing that, too.
“You’re tired. Can you take a break?” Raph asked. “You’ve got a seat here.”
And Wyatt smiled, warm and soft.
“I’m fine, Raph. You’ll make such a great dad, you know,” he said, his hand drifting up to his flat belly. Raph realized Wyatt was also talking about their unborn child. Someday soon, they’d raise that baby together, and Hazel along with it.
“I try,” Raph said when he found his voice. Hazel’s braid had gone loose again, and he tried to tug the different strands gently back into place. “But I doubt braids will be my thing.”
“You can teach Hazel to play the violin,” Wyatt said. “I’ve been teaching her the piano.”
Between them, Hazel perked up. None of the other patrons looked over, or stared.
This should’ve been wrong, all of them being so close. But both Wyatt and Hazel welcomed him, and he fitted in with them. They felt like a family he hadn’t known he was missing.
The thought left him breathless. “I’ll try,” Raph said. “It’s been a while since I played.”
And the dinner at the mansion crashed back into his mind.
“Shit,” Raph said. “The charity audition.”
Wyatt frowned. “Language, Raph.”
Hazel made a face. “I know what ‘shit’ is, Dad. Censorship is bad.”
“You do need to be polite, hon.”
“I know,” Hazel said. “But I can say ‘shit’ in front of you.”
Raph bit down his smile. Wyatt groaned, exasperated. But his eyes glowed with love, and Raph knew Hazel would always be Wyatt’s most important person. That was fine.
Wyatt pulled his phone from his back pocket. Then he snapped a picture of Raph, with Hazel’s braid half-undone in his hands. “This has to be the picture of the year.”
“Seriously?” Raph said. A picture of him tying braids?
“Yeah.” Wyatt tucked the phone back, the fatigue from his face melting away. “A photo of my two favorite people.”
Since when did I become your favorite person?
“Don’t let Uncle Sam hear that,” Hazel whispered. “Or he’ll get pissy.”
Wyatt glanced at the kitchen, then back at Hazel and Raph. Had there ever been something between Wyatt and Sam? Wyatt had said he didn’t have an alpha, but Sam was omega.
With some hesitation, Raph nodded at the kitchen entrance. “Were you and him...?”
Wyatt saw through him anyway, smiling. “He’s my best friend, Raph. That’s all there is to
