Page 47 of His Gentle Omega
Shay gave his son a sharp look over his shoulder, a frown marring his forehead. “Excuse you, sir, we are guests and Bennett is not your servant.”
Asher laughed, but quickly said his good-byes and slipped out the door, happily leaving Shay to deal with his absolutely-not-a-morning-person son.
Lucas frowned back at his dad, and boy, if they didn’t have the exact same looks on their faces, I would eat my hat. They might not have the same coloring–other than their eyes–but there was no doubt that Lucas was a Pierce.
“But Bennett always gets my breakfast when I get up, Daddy. He makes the bestest frenchy toast. It’s better than Maria’s. But don’t tell her I said that, because I don’t want her to be sad.”
This kid. He made my heart swell with his sweetness and kindness, not wanting to hurt Maria’s feelings. Oh, he could bring the sass when he put his mind to it, but most of the time he did it with a sparkle in his eye, and I adored him for it. It was a testament to Shay as a father, that despite all that had happened the last week and even before, Lucas felt secure enough to tease.
I’d had the pleasure of spending the past week with him, being his caretaker, and he was such a great kid, quickly and easily becoming one of my favorite people to spend time with. And, yes, a part of me knew I was playing house, making believe that this was my family. That Lucas was my child. That Shay was my alpha. But whenever that nagging voice in my brain would start flashing warning bells, I ignored them.Nananana, I can’t hear or see you.
Shay sent him a small, tight smile, and I saw the flash of pain in his eyes at the mention of the woman’s name. In an instant it was gone, and he ruffled Lucas’s hair, kissing the top of his head. “I promise I won’t tell.”
Thanks to the many little casual chats Lucas and I had over the past week, I knew who Maria was, along with her husband, Albert. I really wished I could send them a thank you card for helping Shay and Lucas the way they had. Maybe when all this was over with Edward, I would get the chance.
“Aren’t you sick of French toast yet?” I teased, though I already had the fridge open, pulling out eggs and milk.
Shay chuckled, “It’s his favorite. He’d eat it every breakfast if I let him.”
Nibbling my lip, I decided not to tell him that Lucashadeaten it every day for breakfast the last week.
“Daddy, Bennett warms the syrup up!” Lucas told his dad excitedly. “It’s the best thing ever!”
Glancing over at the pair as I cracked eggs into the bowl, Shay’s blue eyes were warm on my skin.
“Does he?” Shay’s voice was starting to lose the gravelly roughness from his illness, and non-stop coughing. His voice was dark and rich, like smooth bourbon on a cold night, and I felt my cheek’s heat under his gaze. “I bet it’s delicious.”
The words, so close to the ones he had whispered in the dark as he licked my slick from his fingers, caused a shiver of need to run up my spine, and I cracked the egg a bit too hard against the side of the bowl. Scowling, I fished out the pieces of shell that were swimming in the slimy egg pool.
Whisking away, I only half listened to their soft conversation, concentrating on adding milk, cinnamon, nutmeg, and a touch of vanilla.
My ears perked up when I heard Shay tell Lucas, “I have to go to an appointment today. It will probably last a few hours, so Bennett is going to watch you, okay?”
Flipping the first pieces of batter-soaked bread, I saw Lucas shrug from the corner of my eye.
“Bennett has been taking care of me while you were sick, Daddy.” His little voice was so self-assured I couldn’t help but smile. “We have fun. He plays games with me, and we color. Sometimes we watch movies.”
Shay’s heated gaze burned me through my clothes. “I’m glad you like him.”
“Don’t you like him, Daddy?” The innocent question tugged at my insides. It took everything in me not to peek over my shoulder to see the expression on Shay’s face, in his eyes.
You liked me last night, Daddy,I wanted to say, but I kept my mouth shut. Definitely did not need to have to explain that comment to Lucas.
“I like Bennett a whole lot.” Shay’s warm words did funny things to my stomach. “And we need to remember to thank him for taking care of us both. Your Uncle Asher said the house is ready for us and we can move in tonight.”
Hearing him say they were leaving tonight had the effect of a cold shower on my overheated skin. Placing a stack of steaming, buttered French toast in the middle of the table, next to a container of warmed syrup, I gave them both what I hoped was a bright, sunny smile.
Fake it until you make it, Bennett.
“How about I order us a pizza for dinner tonight, before you guys go? One last meal together.” Did my voice sound as desperate as I felt, wanting to hold onto them for even a few minutes longer?
Shay was busy cutting up Lucas’s breakfast, but his eyes flickered to mine for just a second, before sliding away. That underlying tenseness in his muscles from earlier was back. A gloom dimmed the brightness of his eyes, a heaviness hung in the air between us.
“You don’t need to go to any trouble for us, Bennett. You’ve already done so much. Above and beyond.”
“It’s no trouble,” I waved my spatula in the air, cringing at the high-pitch my voice had taken, “I always get pizza on Friday nights if I’m home. And it was my pleasure having you both here.”
Goddess, what the actual fuck were we doing here? This was the most awkward morning after talk in the history of morning after talks.
