Page 40 of His Pretty Omega
What could I even say to explain it? How did I even justify not even remembering what was in most of the boxes?
Or that I had tried several times to come in here, to get it organized and cleaned out, and just been so overwhelmed by it that I hadn’t done one single thing.
How did I explain that after being on top of things all day long at work, that when I got home, my brain just sorta…short circuited?
To the point that when I would go on a shopping spree, and all my packages showed up, I just couldn’t even deal with opening them.
So into the spare room they went, never to be seen again.
Oh, if it was something I really needed, I opened it.
But most times it was books, or movies, or just random shit I ordered late at night because my brain said I needed it. Then it got here, I wasn’t in whatever mood I’d been in before, and I just couldn’t be bothered.
And now Alex was going to find out my dirty little secret.
He’d probably take one look at this room, the boxes piled high, plus all the other stuff I hadn’t done to get ready for this move and he’d know I was way too much to deal with.
Accuse me of not wanting to live together, to be with him, and, well, it wasn’t like I hadn’t tried to warn him how I was.
Really he had only himself to blame.
Are you victim blaming?My cat sounded disgusted with me.
Excuse you, I’m the victim here. My alpha is gonna take one look at my hoarder ass and hightail it outta here.
Oh paleese! That man is so gone for you it’s borderline disturbing.
Yeah well, he’s gonna wonder what in the actual fuck I’ve been doing every night over here, and likely jump to some conclusion I’ve been fucking off with another alpha. His last boyfriend did that, you know?
His last boyfriend wasn’t his fated mate or having his pup. You need to get a grip. You’re spiraling and I don’t have the energy for it.
Don’t whine at me about having no energy, I’m the one–
My internal argument with my cat was cut off by a sharp rapping on my front door.
Eyes wide, I stared down the hallway, feeling like I was caught doing something I shouldn’t be.
“For fucks sake, Seth,” I ran a hand through my sweaty hair. Even with the A.C. cranked, I was burning up. “Get a grip.”
Padding over to the door in my bare feet, because I had shed my scrubs as soon as I had come inside for something more comfortable, which had been what I could find in the last few items of clothing still here, I cracked the door and peered out.
Alex’s brown eyes met mine, and he held up a brown bag of something that smelled amazing. “Whatare you doing here?”
“Feeding you,” he told me, nudging the door further open and stepping around me. His amused gaze ran down my body, as I shut the door. “Nice outfit.”
Looking down at myself, I flashed him a grin, then struck a pose. “It’s all the rage in maternity wear.”
The elastic of my scrubs had been digging into my belly all day, on top of Mother Nature deciding that rolling into Memorial Day weekend would be the perfect time to spike the temperatures with a heat wave.
I’d dug in what was left here of my clothes, finding a pair of black sequined booty shorts. They were too tight across my ass, and I had the waistband pushed under my belly. The hot pink crop top was stretched across the top of my belly, held together only by some excellent stitching at the seams and a whole lotta prayers. BRAT was written in black swirly letters across my chest.
Alex snorted, “At least it’s accurate.”
He looked around, not saying a word, as he set the bag on the counter in the small kitchen. “I brought food.”
“I see that.” Moving around him, I reached into the cabinet for plates. “Why?”
He tilted his head as I pulled the drawer open for some silverware. My stomach, the traitor, took that moment to rumble angrily, reminding me that I had forgotten to stop for something to eat and my fridge was the one and only thing that was cleaned out.
