Page 48 of Act Like You Don't Care
Tam laughed and bent to peer into the oven. “Yeah, I learned, years ago.” A shadow crossed his face, quickly erased. “You’re just in time, everything’s almost ready.”
“I’ll set the table,” I offered and reached for the cupboard.
“No need,” he said and nodded toward the far end of the kitchen.
The old country table was already set with places for two, the table’s surface protected by place-mats I didn’t even realize we had, with glasses of ice water already chilling at the corner of each woven rectangle of fabric. An assortment of spices and the salt and pepper were arranged in the center.
His eyes danced when I turned back to him. “I can, occasionally, act like a proper omega. I just don’t like it that much.”
“Thank you,” I said, startled. “I’ll do the washing up after.”
He shrugged. “It’s okay. I like to be busy.” He reached for two plates I hadn’t noticed and loaded them up with a steak and some vegetables he pulled out of the oven. “Here,” he said, handing the larger of the two plates to me.
I followed him over to the table, half-entranced by the savory odors drifting off the food on my plate, half entranced by the way the hospital scrubs clung to Tam’s body. He’d be a millionaire if he ever stooped to doing one of those medical series on TV.
Partway through the meal, I noticed that Tam was only picking at it. Where half my steak and most of my vegetables were gone, his were barely touched. “You know, you haven’t had anything since breakfast. You can afford the calories,” I said, guessing at the most obvious reason for his apparent lack of appetite.
He lifted his head and stared at me for a moment, then put down his fork and reached for his glass of water. “It’s not that. I kind of don’t give a fuck about calories right now. I was just…thinking.” He took a sip and stared down into the glass for a moment, then set it back on the edge of his place-mat.
“Can I ask about what?”
Tam shrugged and picked up his fork again. “Sometimes I wonder… not really. I dunno. What if he’s right? A little bit? Would it all just be easier if I stopped pushing so hard, was a little more omega-like? Would I be happier if I was? I’m pretty sure Jack would be happy to have me play house omega to his alpha.” He stabbed a roasted carrot with his fork and lifted it up to consider it. “I don’t know. Maybe this is all my fault.” He put the carrot down again and propped his head on his closed fist. “I mean, it was a good run. Maybe this is a sign?” He didn’t look happy about that thought, though.
I chewed the bite of steak I’d just put in my mouth and used the time to choose my words carefully. “I don’t think I’d like you as much if you were a traditional omega. I’ve never really understood the attraction. Then again, I was raised by my mother. She’s about as far from omega as you can get.”
Tam raised his eyebrows. “She’s alpha, right? She seemed to be.”
I nodded. “I like their relationship, my parents’. I never wanted to be in a relationship where all I did was take. You should be partners if you’re planning to spend your life with someone—I’m too busy to be someone’s entire world.”
He squinted a little at that, then picked up his fork and began to eat again in an absentminded way. “You probably have a big file on me, with all my background. So you know I flirted with the Vinists, a long time ago.”
“I knew you were engaged to a lapsed one.”
He ate another bite of steak, avoiding my eyes. “You knew my father was punted out of the Garden, right?”
“There wasn’t a lot of info about him,” I admitted. “I read somewhere that he was born into that group.”
Tam put down his fork again and stared at his food. “Yeah. I never did find out what he did to get kicked out, but after, he did everything he could to get back in. Married a nice omega lady and stomped her into the ground. Had a few kids and raised his omega son with all the Vinist teachings he could shoehorn into him.” His lips twitched, like he was trying to smile. “I sometimes wonder if he thought I’d be his key to getting back into the Garden. You know, bring back a properly raised omega to show that he was a good Vinist. Even better if that omega could bring another lapsed member back into the fold. Only problem was, I was just as shitty an omega by nature then as I am now.” He sighed and stood up. “You got anything to drink in this place?”
I glanced at his still mostly full plate, then made the executive decision that this wasn’t the time to chase him about eating. “Come on, I’ll show you the secret stash.”
His eyes lit up and his grin was almost flirtatious. “I love secrets.”
I led him out to the living room and showed him the secret cabinet behind the bookshelf. “Dad’s got a weird sense of humor,” I explained when he raised his eyebrows at me. “What do you want?”
He perused the shelf, his eyebrows climbing higher as he read the labels. “This is the good stuff.”
“We don’t drink a lot, so when we do, we like to enjoy it. And sometimes we have to hide people out here who are used to expensive things.”
“Not me. I couldn’t afford to drink like I do on this stuff.” He ran his fingers down the front of the tequila bottle. “I didn’t notice any limes in the fridge.”
“No, sorry.”
He grimaced and grabbed the bottle of vodka. “This will do.” He carried the bottle back into the kitchen and rummaged around in the refrigerator until he found the orange juice, then built himself a Screwdriver with about three times the vodka I would have put into it. “You want one?” he asked as he took his first sip.
“I’m fine.” I leaned against the cupboard and watched while he drank half of what was a pretty stiff drink, even for someone with his history. “You think you could eat any more?” I asked. I could see the alcohol working on him already, the tense lines of his body relaxing, the tightness of his jaw smoothing out. I wondered if this was why he drank so often and made a mental note to check on whether he was actually taking those anti-anxiety pills I’d found in his cupboard what felt like eons ago or if he had them because he’d been told he’d needed them.
“I don’t think I can sit still long enough.” Tam wandered over to the table and picked at his vegetables, then shook his head. “No, I think I’m done.” He set his glass down and started collecting the plates.
