Page 20 of Feeling the Heat: Part Two
Ambrose holds my gaze, and the flutters intensify. “Yes. I wouldn’t have stayed sane the past few months without you. You’re just as much mine as Camille and River are.”
I blink back at him. Struggling against the ridiculous urge to cry or beg him to hold me. “Oh.” I force a cheeky grin onto my face. “Damn, dude. I love you too, but quit trying to make me cry. I don’t want my eyes to be all puffy when we get to the party.”
He rolls his eyes and lets go. “Heaven forbid your eyes are puffy. Mine have permanent bags.”
“I heard Botox can help with that.” I dodge out of the way as he reaches out to pretend to smack me.
Dolly lets out another disgruntled groan, popping out from under her blanket at the scuffle. I bend down to give her an apologetic pat. “Sorry for disturbing your beauty rest, your majest—oh shit.” I scramble back as the telltale heaving starts, barely getting out of the way before she gets sick all over the floor.
“Baby, are you okay?” Her response is another expulsion, followed by the world’s most pathetic groan.
Ambrose rushes off to grab some paper towels and cleaning supplies, and I stroke Dolly’s back as she moans again.
By the time Ambrose returns, it’s clear this isn’t a quick moment of random dog puking. “Fuck, I can’t believe this. I need to take her to the emergency vet.” The tears threateningme before make good on their promise, one rolling down my cheek as I clean up the mess.
“It’s okay. She’ll be okay.” I know Ambrose means Dahlia, but it also feels like he’s talking about Camille. “The vet will know what to do, and River and I can handle tonight.”
“Fuck. Okay. Please tell her I’m sorry I’m not there. What if she thinks I care more about my dog than her?”
Ambrose shakes his head. “She won’t. She loves Dolly and would want you to make sure she’s okay. Please text me when you get to the vet. And when you get more info.” He stoops down and strokes her back. “Daddy’s going to get you feeling all better, sweet girl. Don’t worry.”
She gazes up at him with pathetic puppy eyes, and I’m too worried to make a joke about the daddy thing.
“Please be okay,” I whisper as I pick her up, more tears spilling down my cheeks.
Ambrose pulls us against his chest, his arms banding around me. “Everything will be okay. Go take care of your baby, and I’ll go take care of our omega.”
9
I should’ve stayed home.
The second I walk into the crowded event space, a wall of sound slams into me, the din of conversations and music making me grimace. After spending months as a hermit, it’s all too loud and bright, and my skin heats whenever someone’s gaze passes over me. Which is happening a lot seeing as I’m frozen in the entryway, looking around the crowded party in undisguised terror.
Astrid’s nails dig into my arm where she has a death grip on me, sensing that I’m about to bolt.
“Ouch,” I hiss, glaring at her as she tugs me out of the doorway and to my doom. I know my omega is being melodramatic, but all my senses are on high alert like one of our new clients might come at me with a knife. No, likeallof them are going to crowd in and take turns stabbing me and laughing as I try to curl into a ball and hide.
I shrink back against my much smaller best friend as a greying alpha walks past us, her heels clicking on the marble floor, and suppress a whine.
Astrid frowns as my shoulder bumps against her. “Hey. Look at me.”
My eyes snap up to hers, and I know my terror is ridiculous, but I can’t hide it. “I need to go home.”
Her blonde brows knit together as she places her hand on my other arm. I’m not sure if Astrid gripping my arms is meant to be reassuring or another preventative measure to keep me from running away, but she’s got weird mom strength that I won’t be able to overpower.
“Nope.” Her head shakes adamantly. “I know you’re freaking out, but tonight isn’t about you, Cami. It’s about all the hard work Lauren has put into getting this company off the ground. She needs you here to support her, so you’re going to put your big girl panties on and make this work.”
“But…” My reply is feeble, because she’s absolutely right and also she’s giving me her patented mom glare that I’ve only seen her use with the twins when they’re being particularly misbehaved.
I sag, releasing a heavy exhale as resignation sets in. This is going to be torture, but Astrid is right. Lauren deserves for me to get my shit together and be there for her as a friend and business partner. I can survive one night of chatter and stares.
Or at least I hope I can.
It’s tempting to grab a champagne flute from one of the waiters milling around the room and down it to help take the edge off my agitation, but one of the many lovely things about the intense heat suppressants I’m on is that alcohol can mess with their efficacy. So can my anxiety meds, which means I’m out here rawdogging life when I need them the most.
I take a minute while I’m pulled over to the side of the room and partially obscured by a large flower arrangement and Astrid’s reedy form, and try to do some deep breathing and have a reality check with my panicking omega.
Breathe in… I’m here to be a good friend.
