Page 4

Chapter

Three

LEXIE

I spot the waitress approaching with my order and fight the urge to slide down in the booth. The pie, a whole golden-crusted apple pie with a scoop of vanilla ice cream already melting on top, looks even more ridiculous now that it’s actually being placed in front of me.

“Can I get you anything else?” she asks, setting down an extra plate as if anyone might be joining me in this shameful endeavor.

“Just a water refill, thanks.” I manage a smile and try not to think about how she must be judging me. Single woman. Whole pie. Tuesday afternoon. The math isn’t complicated.

The first forkful hits my tongue, cinnamon and butter and just the right amount of tartness from the apples, and I briefly forget to care what anyone thinks. I close my eyes and let the sweetness coat my anxieties.

Jessica is fifteen minutes late, which is right on time for her. My sister operates in her own time zone where punctuality is a loose concept and “I’ll be there in five” means “I haven’t left yet but I’m thinking about it.”

I’m halfway through demolishing the first quadrant of pie when the bell above the door chimes. I don’t need to look up to know it’s her with the clack of sensible heels on tile followed by a dramatic sigh that somehow manages to convey both exhaustion and judgment.

“Oh God, it’s bad.” Jessica slides into the booth across from me, dropping her purse beside her. “I haven’t seen you in a full-pie mental state since the traffic from that magazine feature crashed your entire website.”

I point my fork at her. “I was going to share.”

“No, you weren’t.” She shrugs off her coat, revealing one of those crisp blouses that somehow says both ‘I’m a professional’ and ‘I could be on the cover of a magazine if I wanted to.’ It’s one of the gifts I gave her from my first collection, before I decided to focus on sweaters, since those have always been my bestsellers. “What happened?”

I consider telling her about the email I got this morning.

Mark’s pre-announcement of his upcoming mating ceremony with his new pack to everyone on the invitation list. Which, apparently, I’m on for some reason.

I consider mentioning the string of one-star reviews from a customer who ordered the wrong size sweater and decided to wage a personal vendetta instead of returning it.

I consider bringing up the fact that my apartment feels emptier every time I walk through the door.

“Nothing specific,” I say instead, stabbing at a chunk of apple. “Just... Tuesday.”

Jessica’s eyes narrow in that way that says she knows I’m deflecting but is choosing to let it slide. For now. “Well, scoot over then. If we’re having pie for lunch, at least let me pretend I tried to talk you out of it.”

The waitress returns with a second fork before Jessica even asks, proving that normal people share desserts rather than ordering them as main courses. Jessica takes a bite and makes an appreciative noise.

“Okay, this was actually a solid life choice.”

“I have them occasionally.” I take another bite, feeling the knot in my chest loosen slightly. There’s something about Jessica’s presence that always grounds me, even when she’s driving me crazy.

“So,” she says, in that too-casual tone that immediately puts me on alert. “Have you given any thought to the dating app?”

And there it is. I knew we wouldn’t make it through half a pie without circling back to this. I push a piece of crust around the plate, buying time.

“I looked at it,” I admit. “But I’m not sure there’s anything that would work for me. Marketing materials aside, it’s probably all just the usual. Packs seeking an omega.”

Jessica’s lips curve into a smile that can only be described as Machiavellian. She reaches into her bag and pulls out her tablet. “That’s where you’re wrong. Luckily for you, I’ve done extensive research.”

“Of course you have.” I take another bite, larger this time.

Jessica turns the tablet around and slides it across the table. “Look.”

I peer at the screen, expecting to see the same polished landing page I’d clicked on after our last conversation. Instead, I’m looking at a profile. A group of three betas, all men, with warm smiles and matching sweaters. A little creepy, but… wholesome. And I can respect the sweater game.

“Beta triad looking for a fourth,” Jessica explains, swiping to the next profile before I can process the first. “This one’s interesting. He’s an alpha who lost his scent match and isn’t looking for another, just someone compatible with his lifestyle.”

She swipes again. “Here’s a mixed beta-alpha pair seeking a third who specifically states omega or beta, doesn’t matter.”

Another swipe. “Single beta looking for one-on-one relationship, no pack aspirations.”

Swipe. “Alpha-omega couple looking for a beta housemate with friendship potential, no romantic expectations.”

My fork freezes halfway to my mouth as Jessica keeps scrolling through profile after profile, each one defying my expectations. People seeking connections beyond the traditional alpha-omega pairing, beyond scent matching, beyond everything I’d come to believe was the only option.

“How many of these did you find?” I ask, my voice quieter than I intended.

“Dozens.” Jessica’s expression softens. “Lex, not everyone is looking for the same thing.”

I set my fork down, suddenly less interested in the pie. “You really did your research, didn’t you?”

“Actually...” Jessica draws out the word, and I immediately sense danger. “I may have taken a few additional steps.”

“What does that mean?”

She taps the screen a few more times, then hands me the tablet again. I blink in shock as I stare at a profile I definitely didn’t create, but that’s undeniably my face looking back at me from the screen. A picture Jessica took of me at our table in the audience of a theater play last year.

I have to admit, it’s a good one. My hair is actually down and styled into sleek, reddish-brown waves rather than piled up in its usual messy bun, and I look downright glamorous in a floor-length purple gown that brings out my brown eyes and hugs my curves gracefully.

The only problem is, I look like that only two percent of the time. And that’s generous.

“You made me a profile?” The words come out higher than I intend.

“I took the liberty, yes.”

“That is definitely a liberty.” I scan the page, torn between horror and curiosity.

The rest of the photos aren’t bad either, mostly shots Jessica has taken over the years at family gatherings.

She’s chosen ones where I’m laughing or mid-conversation, looking more alive than I feel most days. “What does it say about me?”

“Just the basics. Small business owner, creative, values independence but seeks meaningful connection. Looking for a relationship with room to grow, open to various configurations.”

“Various configurations?” I narrow my eyes. “Did you just call me a relationship slut?”

Jessica chokes on her water. “I did not! I just kept your options open. The whole point of the app is that it’s not just about scent matching.”

I continue scrolling through my profile, conflicted.

On one hand, I’m annoyed at Jessica’s overstepping.

On the other, I’m relieved to not have to go through the awkward process of writing about myself.

She’s managed to make me sound both reasonable and slightly interesting, which is a feat considering I spent last Saturday night sipping wine and fondling yarn samples.

“So, have you arranged a date for me too?” I ask dryly, handing the tablet back.

Jessica’s lips quirk up. “No, I figured you needed to pull your weight somehow .”

“You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?”

“What are sisters for?” She grins, reclaiming her fork to steal another bite of pie. “Besides, you have to actually talk to people yourself. I just cleared the path.”

I stare at the pie between us, no longer sure if I’m hungry or nauseous. The idea of putting myself out there again, of being vulnerable enough to hope, feels like willingly stepping into traffic after being hit by four consecutive trucks.

Trucks that send you unsolicited announcements about their mating ceremonies.

But those profiles Jessica showed me... they weren’t what I expected.

They weren’t all alphas looking for their perfect omega to complete their pack.

They were just people. Complicated, specific people with their own histories and desires, looking for something that worked for them, not just what biology or society dictated. I can relate to that.

“I’m not promising anything,” I warn.

“Of course not.” Jessica’s tone is too innocent.

“And if I get my heart stomped on again, I’m moving in with you and Luke and becoming a spinster. I already have the considerable yarn collection.”

“We’ll clear out the guest room.” She says it like she means it, which only makes me love her more despite my irritation.

I take a deep breath and release it slowly. “I’ll look tonight. That’s all I can promise.”

Jessica beams like I’ve just announced I’m running for president. “That’s all I’m asking.”

“You’re asking for way more than that, and we both know it.”

“True.” She doesn’t even try to deny it. “But we’re starting small.”

We fall into easier conversation after that, discussing her kids’ latest school adventures and my upcoming craft fair booth. By the time we’ve demolished most of the pie, I’m feeling almost optimistic, or at least less pessimistic, which might be as good as it gets for me these days.

As Jessica pays the bill at her insistence, I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to find someone, or someones, who might actually stay. Someone who sees me as more than a placeholder until something better comes along.

It’s probably a pipe dream. Four failed relationships don’t exactly suggest I’m headed for a happily-ever-after. But as Jessica hugs me goodbye outside the café, I find myself thinking about those profiles, about all those different people seeking connections that don’t fit the mold.

Maybe there’s room for the unexpected. A future that doesn’t end with me packing boxes and staring at bare walls.

Or maybe I’m just riding a sugar high from too much pie.

Either way, I guess I’ll be logging into Beyond Bonds tonight.