Aaron shrugged. “It’s been a long time coming, though. I see that now.”
“It has?”
“Yeah! That thing with you and Eric? And you and Mom? It’s like watching two fireballs collide. Boom!”
Olivier groaned. The waitress skated out through the doors with their clip-on trays, clipping Aaron’s to the driver’s door, then Ollie’s to the passenger door.
And now Ollie had a tray balanced over his rolled-down window, on it a steaming bowl of noodles begging to be eaten.
“Careful, now,” Aaron said. “Don’t spill! It’ll be a royal pain to clean out the car.”
Ollie sighed. “I’m an adult, Aaron.”
“Just saying.”
Ollie snapped his chopsticks apart, sniffing at the savory broth. He tucked the slices of crispy roasted seaweed into the soup, savoring the springy noodles, the salty, marinated hard-boiled egg.
He hadn’t realized he was hungry. He slurped down half the piping-hot noodles, thinking about the time Eric had gone out just for his salmon, and the revolted expression he’d made when Ollie ate the fish raw.
What would it be like, if Ollie could have his alpha again?
His heart squeezed. Ollie closed his eyes, imagining Eric next to him, Eric caressing his face with those gentle hands, his calluses catching on Ollie’s skin.
Eric, meeting his eyes across the pillows, his palm on Olivier’s belly, their legs tangled together.
Eric stepping up behind him in the bathroom, blowing a raspberry against Ollie’s scent gland. This is how I’ll mark you now.
He missed Eric, so very much.
Ollie choked on his breath, squeezing his eyes shut when tears rolled down his cheeks. He didn’t want Aaron to see him crying. So he looked out through his window, focusing on his still-warm noodles.
Aaron started the car. Ollie fumbled. “I’m not—I’m not done yet!”
“I know,” Aaron said behind him. “I’m not, either.”
But slowly, the car rolled backward.
The sedan across the road had its reversing lights on. Ollie bit his lip, watching as the other car came closer. “Aaron, watch out—”
“Yeah, I know.”
It was a familiar scarlet car with flame decals, the passenger window rolled down on Ollie’s side. There was a tray clipped to it, too.
Behind the tray, Eric stared back at him in shock, his cheeks wet.
30
Eric
Eric shouldn’t have been crying. He was alpha. He was supposed to have his emotions in check.
Except Cole had asked, When was the happiest you’ve been lately? and Eric had stared at his half-finished soup, remembering Ollie in the kitchen. Ollie warm and pliant in his arms, Ollie the only omega he’d wanted this much in his life.
Olivier was terrible and he wanted Eric’s mom dead, and all Eric could think was I still love him.
He’d thought about seeing Olivier again. Just to decide if he really was serious about the breakup. But there was no going back from here, was there? He’d walked out of Olivier’s life. He shouldn’t expect to be let back in.
Hell, Eric wasn’t even sure he deserved to be Olivier’s alpha, when his new job sucked and he was making less, when he hadn’t even passed the probation period.
Except Olivier was right in front of him now, wetness streaked down his face like he’d been crying. Eric’s heart squeezed tight. What happened? How was Olivier even here?
Do I still love you?
Cole coughed lightly behind him.
“You bastard,” Eric muttered. Cole and Aaron had planned this, hadn’t they?
He opened his door. In the other car, Olivier squawked. “Aaron! Aaron, please. We have to go.”
Aaron cut the engine. Yeah, he was a bastard, too. And Eric was climbing out of the car without even thinking about it. Like his body was on autopilot because Ollie was here.
Olivier scrambled out of his seat. He backed across the center console and into Aaron’s lap, and jealousy snarled in Eric’s gut.
Are you dating him now?
Eric opened the door. Ollie grabbed the door handle, yanking it back.
The soup in his bowl lurched onto the tray and car seat, and onto Olivier’s legs and belly. Ollie cried out in shock.
Eric froze. Had he scalded Ollie?
“Is it hot?” he blurted, pulling the door open again.
Ollie froze in the middle of dabbing the soup off the passenger seat.
“Ollie,” Aaron muttered exasperatedly. “I told you not to spill!”
“Just get me out of here,” Ollie said. “Please!”
Eric curled his fingers around Ollie’s thin, familiar wrist, breathing in that carnation-and-honey scent. And something in his chest relaxed, because he had his omega close by again.
Ollie jerked his hand out of Eric’s grasp, as though he’d been stung. Eric couldn’t help looking up, following the length of Olivier’s body. His belly was rounder now, a dark patch of soup on it, and...
He was wearing Eric’s shirt. There was no way Eric could miss the bird logo stitched onto it—they’d bought the shirt together back at Pigeon’s while they were looking at baby clothes.
“That’s mine,” Eric said, his heart missing a beat.
Olivier flushed. He yanked the shirt up over his head, thrusting it at Eric. “There. You can have it back.”
Except Eric stared at the expanse of his pale skin, his narrow chest and pink nipples, and the stretch marks across his round belly.
That was their baby in there.
Olivier hadn’t gotten rid of it. He still wanted that child. Eric swallowed hard, remembering the times Olivier smiled secretly at his belly. Remembered the times he’d spoken to that child, pressing kisses all over Olivier’s skin.
I shouldn’t have broken up with him.
“Stop staring,” Ollie mumbled, wrapping his thin arms around himself. He’d curled up on other occasions, trying to hide his body from Eric because he didn’t think he deserved Eric’s love.
Eric’s throat closed. He shrugged out of his own shirt, scrunching it up to wipe the soup off Olivier’s abdomen. “Does it hurt?”
Olivier whimpered. “Why are you doing this?”
Eric met his eyes. Saw the longing and terror, and the ache that resonated in his own chest.
Would things get better if we made up?
On impulse, he took Ollie’s hand, lifting it to kiss Ollie’s knuckles. Ollie tensed. Then he eased his hand out
