Page 16 of Forget me Knot
“Hi, Mum,” I murmur when I answer.
“Max,” she says. “How are things?”
“Fine.”
“Are you any closer to finding a mate yet?” The tone of voice makes my stomach clench.
“I’m twenty-six, Mum. I don’t need to settle down yet. Plus, it’s a pack thing. It has to be right.” I hold in the world-weary sigh.
“Of course it does,” she scoffs. “I never said it didn’t. But twenty-six turns into thirty-six before you know it.”
“Wow, wishing my life away. Thanks for that.”
“Oh, you know what I mean,” she brushes it aside. I love her, but she is a pain in my arse. Wealthy, doted on by my dad and their pack, she is, I really hate to say this about my ownmother, spoiled rotten. She always gets her way with her mates, and I think she assumes I’ll fall in line. But not with this. I’m not settling and it’s not fair to make Jack or Sam settle either if we can’t agree. We haven’t even really spoken it about at length. It keeps getting pushed aside.
I frown.
Now that I think about it, it keeps getting tabled by Jack…
“Max!”
“I’m here,” I mumble, snapping back to attention.
“Well, you didn’t sound like it. Listen, I’ve got a list of potential omegas for you to meet at the summer festival in a few weeks. All highly recommended by various packs.”
Of course, she does. I rub my temples, feeling a headache coming on. “Mum, I appreciate the effort, but?—”
“No buts, Max! You can’t just keep putting this off. We need to secure the future of your pack.”
We do, do we?
I glance at the clock. Five minutes have passed, and I’ve done nothing but argue with my mother and think about Lily Bloom’s scent. “Fine. I’ll look at your list.”
“Good boy.” Her voice softens slightly. “I just want what’s best for you and your pack. You’re all good boys and deserve a lovely mate who will treat you right.”
“I know.” It’s easier just to agree with her sometimes. But I fall more on the side of the fence ofweneed to treatherright. We say our goodbyes, and I hang up, dropping my phone on the desk with a loud thunk.
“This day blows,” I mutter and go back to the Bainbridge account. But it’s no use. Lily’s scent is all over those fucking flowers. Decisively, I pick up the bouquet and drop them in the bin, which I then kick over to the other side of my office.
It doesn’t help.
If anything, it makes it worse as I disturbed the scent clinging to the red petals. I look up through the half-glass window of my office and stare at the stuffiness that is Forshaw’s bank. Sometimes, I wish I’d chosen a different career, like Sam and Jack. Although rushing into burning buildings doesn’t sound fun and, nor does getting all sweaty and dirty digging up gardens. But like that. Just different. SomethingIwanted to do. My passion. That’s it. My passion.
I stand up from my chair, feeling restless. Maybe a walk around the town will clear my head. I grab my jacket and head out of my office, nodding at Claire, our receptionist, who raises an eyebrow at me.
“Going for lunch,” I mutter.
She nods but says nothing, hiding her smile. I really hate that she witnessed the flower debacle, and me acting like a dick. Pushing the door open, the fresh air hits me immediately, crisp and clean, with a hint of rain on the horizon. Perfect Lake District weather. I stroll down the street, past the shops and cafés, trying to let my mind wander away from Lily Bloom and my mum’s incessant matchmaking.
A bell chimes as I push open the door to my favourite little coffee shop—a tiny place with mismatched furniture. The smell of freshly ground coffee beans mingles with the scent of homemade pastries, and it’s almost enough to drown out thoughts of her.
Almost.
I order a flat white and a sandwich and take a seat by the window, watching people go about their day. It’s summer, so there are plenty of tourists milling about, cameras out, maps in hand. I sip my coffee slowly, savouring the bitterness mixed with creamy milk.
A few minutes pass, and I’ve nearly convinced myself that this little getaway has done the trick.
Taking a bite of my sandwich, I watch as an older couple walks by, hand in hand, laughing about something only they understand. For a moment, I picture myself in their place, still laughing with someone well into our grey years. Who would that someone be? My mind drifts back to Lily Bloom. God, why her? Her scent has wrapped around me like a warm hug and refuses to let go.
