Page 37 of Single Omega Dad
“Entirely by choice,” Saber said.
Flawed not by design? Yet, I had been born into glamour and wealth. Privilege and expectation. One didn’t undo that in a day. Kris had had change forced upon him overnight. And gentle Trigg? He’d been blindsided, but always the sweetheart of our trio, he quietly navigated all the bumps in the road.
Everything I can’t have. Don’t have. That’s what Saber represented to me.
Now that I had opened my eyes, now that I couldn’t get his bright hair and steady hazel gaze out of my mind, I realized I wanted him more than anything in my entire life.
I thought I had everything and I was still bitter. Unhappy. Looking to Father for guidance. Omegas, to my mind, were for breeding; it was what they were made for. I couldn’t relate to that and had dismissed half the population as a result.
Full of hate and spite. That’s what I’d become. I was filled with incredible animosity. Anger from places I couldn’t define.
It was strange how light I’d felt today as I looked forward to the dinner at Saber’s house. I’d shopped for the groceries and gifts with a kind of focus that brought with it continuous pumps of energy through my chest.
Now, as Saber talked to me, I wondered: Was this what normal people felt? People who weren’t raised by trillionaire fathers who controlled their every move, who taught them about emotionless breeding, who defined heaven to be what was contained in the dark shadows of over-filled bank vaults?
“Choices. They seem vaster yet less complicated when you’re young,” I said.
“That’s true.” Saber smiled and that smile was like a light coming on inside my mind. “You don’t think of the consequences as much when you’re young.”
I stared at him. He was a pregnant Omega, and I realized he found himself in a position where his choices had become perhaps more limited, but every move he made affected other lives, specifically, those of his kids and the ones on the way.
My choices seemed always to be about saving face with Father, and not caring what corners I cut to do it.
“Why do I care so much about what my father thinks?” I said it more to myself than to Saber.
“Seems to me maybe you have a lot to lose. A way of life? That’s huge.”
I nodded.
“But are you happy? Isn’t that the biggest question anybody ever asks of their life?”
That question came with an easy answer. But when I didn’t give it, Saber hopped up.
“Let’s have that dessert,” he said quickly.
I sat with my head forward on one hand, my elbow on the table, and this time I did not offer to help.
I heard dishes chiming with spoons. Saber came out with two plates containing apple pie with vanilla ice cream on top. He set one in front of me with a silver fork and one at his own place. Then he went back into the kitchen and called out, “Boys. Can you put your movie on pause, please, and come get your dessert?”
“Yay!” came two high-pitched voices from the living room.
The boys ran in and grabbed their dishes. “Ice cream for you guys,” Saber said. “Today the pie is for the grown ups.”
Without arguing, they each went to their places at the table and started eating, immediately getting ice cream all over their hands and faces, but smiling bright as if they’d just been gifted the sun.
Much as I’d seen them as a hindrance the first day we’d met at the bank, I’d taken a complete opposite view of them in the past two days. Saber kept them well in line, and obviously they were well-loved.
As we ate, Tybor started telling us about the cartoon movie they’d chosen to watch. Saber had no doubt seen this movie before, probably a hundred times, but his patience at letting Tybor speak, and asking him questions at pertinent points, was endearing. I hardly wanted to admit it, but I hadn’t felt such contentment in a long, long time.
When the boys finished and went back to their movie, Saber cleared the dishes.
There was nothing left for me to do. I had no more reason to stay.
I stood at the kitchen island and watched Saber for a minute. “I should probably get going.”
“What?” He rinsed his hands and dried them on a towel. “Oh.”
“I’ve got a board meeting tomorrow, and--” I stopped. He didn’t need to hear all the boring details.
