Searching For His Omega - Harper B. Cole Page 0,37

He took a sip of his coffee and set it down on the counter as his face wrinkled up. “I forgot how…” He didn’t need to finish the sentence.

“I didn’t, but it exists.” I brought it to my lips, the acidic aroma too much for me, and I placed mine beside his. “Maybe that’s not enough,” I teased.

“Does he feel the same?”

“I don’t know. We haven’t talked about it.” Goodness, I’d been too chicken to even tell him I loved him. Well, I had said it but it was to myself and not loud enough for him to hear.

“You should probably get on that.”

The crew was setting up the lighting, and it would be the only quiet time we had all day, the owners not slated to arrive for an hour. They were divas, to be sure.

“And what? Tell him I love him and, oh yeah, I’m going to be gone more often than not so good luck on everything?” It wasn’t like I hadn’t thought about this pretty much nonstop since I left. The look in his eyes as they filled with tears and he pretended it was no big deal even though I could see it was. It was a glimpse of his future as much as I wished it wasn’t.

“I’m pretty sure you can come up with something better than that.” He bumped me with his shoulder and pointed to the convenience store across the way.

“Let’s go.” Their coffee had to be better.

“I showed your contract to a legal friend and they are going to figure things out,” he said once we were clear of nosey ears. “They owe me.”

“Why do they owe you exactly?”

“Would you believe me if I said it was because I give a mean blow job.”

“Nope.” I popped the p.

“Let’s just say we grew up together and leave it at that.”

“Thanks for helping with this.” The words weren’t enough. His helping me could financially mess him up, and yet he still did it. He even called in favors. I’d never be able to repay him.

We crossed the street, and as we reached the door, he stopped me with a hand on my shoulder. “I hate seeing you miserable.”

“If you hate seeing me miserable why did you give me that coffee?” I opened the door for him, and the rich scent of dark roast coffee tickled my nose. It wouldn’t be as good as what I’d grown accustomed to, but it was going to be a step up for sure

“Fair point, Chet. Fair point.”

“You’re a sight for sore eyes.” I wrapped my arms around Stan, holding him close. “I missed you so much.” Sure, we had talked on the phone and even FaceTimed, but it wasn’t the same. Not. Even. Close.

“I missed you too.” He nuzzled his face into my chest.

He missed me too. That was a good sign, right? It wasn’t just me in the land of make-believe seeing things that weren’t there. He felt it too. Maybe he didn’t love me yet. But missing me was a start. And really, for all he knew I didn’t love him yet either. I was such a chicken shit for not saying it loud enough for him to hear.

“Come with me next time.” His body froze for a few seconds at my offer. And then things got worse. He stepped out of my arms, vehemently shaking his head back and forth.

Fuck.

“I have a job.” His hands formed little fists at his hips. “I worked hard to get here, and I am making something of this place. I can’t just up and leave because my baby daddy has to work.”

Baby daddy. Those two little words were a sucker punch to my middle.

“Baby daddy?” I whispered. “Is that all I am?”

“No. No. No. Of course not.” His tone changed, his fists no longer at his hips, his eyes softer. Bad choice of wording I could live with. Thinking I was nothing more than a sperm depositor, that was too much.

“I just..I have a job.” He grabbed my hand and gave it a squeeze. “I can’t just go random places is all. I wish you could work here.” That was something I wished too. And not just because of Stan and our baby, although they were my reason for wanting to grow roots here. I loved this stupid little town. It was quirky and fun and slow and real. City life had nothing on this place, even with the art and fine dining and theater. I’d gladly give