Page 32

Chapter 32

Freya

One month later

“Are we ready?”

With a lift of his hand, Zane checks the time on his watch. “Everyone will be here soon.”

The morning light filters through the newly installed blinds, casting a warm glow over the polished countertops and freshly painted walls. I fidget with the ceremonial ribbon hanging across the entrance, my heart racing with nervousness as La Petite Rose is finally ready to open its doors.

“When will Miller get here?” I ask, turning to Zane. “He’s working today, isn’t he?”

He’s arranging pastries in the display case, his dark hair—no longer that shocking bleached blond—falling across his forehead. The pink apron tied around his waist should look ridiculous on someone with his build, but he wears it with such confidence that it seems like the most natural thing in the world. He’s finally comfortable in his skin, scars and all.

“No, he called off. Last I heard, he was picking up the champagne,” Zane says, carefully placing a row of eclairs. “He’ll be here.”

I nod, trying to calm my nerves. We’ve worked on this for two months now, and my nerves are hitting hard. “There’s still so much to do. The raspberry macarons aren’t arranged properly, and I think the chocolatine needs to be moved to the—”

“Freya,” Zane interrupts, coming around the counter to stand in front of me. He places his hands on my shoulders, his touch grounding me. “Everything is perfect. The shop is perfect. You’re perfect.”

I take a deep breath, leaning into his touch. “I know. I just want everything to be right.”

“It is,” he assures me, then grins mischievously. “Plus, if anything goes wrong, we can always blame it on your terrible management skills.”

I gasp, slapping his chest playfully. “Excuse me? My management skills are impeccable. And you can’t talk to your boss like that.”

He laughs. “Are you going to sack me again?”

“That was one time!” I protest, but I’m laughing now, the tension easing from my shoulders.

“It was last week.”

I chuckle harder now. “You told me you could knead.”

“You’re a control freak, Freya,” he says, but there is no malice in his tone. In fact, there is only pure joy.

The bell above the door chimes, and we turn to see Thorne enter with Stone in his arms, our baby has grown so much. He’s going to be as broad and tall as his father someday, no doubt.

Something shifts inside me at the sight—a yearning, a longing.

Zane must notice, because he wraps his arm around my shoulder and pulls me close. “We should have more babies,” he murmurs.

My heart skips. “How many?”

“How many can you give us?” His eyes are warm, filled with love and hope.

“Is ten too many?” I ask with a grin.

A rich sound erupts from him as he lets out a hearty laugh. “We may need some twins in that number.” His expression softens. “Sorry, I forgot you were a twin. Do you think about Freddie often?”

The mention of my brother sends a pang through my chest. “I do. I miss him every single day,” I admit quietly. “A part of me died when he did. I didn’t know if I would survive.” I look up at Zane, seeing the understanding in his eyes. “But I did. We did. You’re the same.”

Zane nods, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “We’re survivors, you and I.”

The moment is broken by the sound of multiple footsteps and laughter. The door bursts open again, and Harlow strides in, followed by her pack mates—Carver, Asher, Oliver, and Parker, and their son, Jagger.

“The party has arrived!” Harlow announces, holding up a large cake box. “And I come bearing gifts!”

I raise an eyebrow. “You brought a cake...to a bakery opening.”

“Not just any cake,” Harlow says proudly, setting it on the counter. “My cake. I’ve been practicing.”

I peer into the box cautiously. “Should I be worried about poisoning my customers on opening day?”

Harlow rolls her eyes. “Hilarious. For your information, my alphas love my baking now. Don’t you, boys?”

The men exchange subtle glances that speak volumes.

“Absolutely,” Carver says, a little too quickly.

“Delicious,” Asher adds, not meeting anyone’s eyes.

“I’m thinking of quitting sports management and opening a bakery in competition with you,” Harlow continues, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “What do you think?”

“I think there’s a reason you manage athletes instead of food,” I retort, but I’m smiling as I say it.

Carver catches my eye and gives me a look that clearly says, “ Don’t worry, we would never let that happen.”

“Hey, I’ve improved!” Harlow protests. “I use more oil now. So they’re only slightly less brick-like now.”

"Yummy." I laugh, pulling her into a hug. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too,” she whispers. “But look at you now—fancy bakery owner in the best part of town, pack mother, general badass.”

The door flies open again, and Miller dashes in, slightly out of breath, his arms laden with champagne bottles. “I’m here! I’m not late! Nobody cut any ribbons yet!”

I kiss him on the lips. “No.”

He deposits the bottles on the nearest table, then makes his way back to me, planting another kiss on my lips. “Sorry, traffic was a nightmare.”

Miller then moves to Thorne, kissing Stone’s forehead before giving Thorne a look. They stand side by side, shoulders touching, as they watch Zane and I take our positions for the speech.

I clear my throat, suddenly emotional as I look around at the gathered faces—my pack, my family, my everything.

There’s a commotion at the door, and to my surprise, my parents walk in, followed by my sister with her husbands and children, and my brother Finton.

“Mom,” I whisper. Joy and shock collide within me, creating a tumultuous mix of feelings in my chest. “You came.”

My mother approaches me, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “We wouldn’t miss this for the world, sweetheart.” She takes my hands in hers. “I’m so proud of you, Freya.”

“Because I have a pack?” I ask, the old insecurity rising despite myself.

“I should’ve realized you’d take after your grandmother. You always were a tough one.”

“I wasn’t, though, was I. I couldn’t cope when Freddie died. And you had to nurse me back to health.”

“Because I’m your mom, Freya. I love you and I’ll do anything for you.” She shakes her head. “And no, it’s not because you now have a pack. It’s because you are who you are. You chose a path I couldn’t. A path I thought was too hard.” She glances at my fathers, then back at me. “I’ve always done the right thing. The expected thing. I love your fathers with all my heart, but I pushed my ideas onto you.”

“It’s okay.”

“There you go again. It’s not okay, Freya. I failed you.” A tear slips down her cheek.

“You never failed me.”

She sighs. “But I do love you, my baby girl, and I’m sorry for letting you doubt it.”

I pull her into a tight hug, my own tears falling freely now. When we part, she wipes her eyes and smiles. “Now, let’s see this bakery of yours.”

With my family and pack gathered around me, I take the ceremonial scissors and cut the ribbon across the entrance. The crowd cheers, and Zane unveils the new sign: La Petite Rose, the elegant script catching the morning light.

“Thank you all for being here today,” I begin, my voice shaky with all the emotions swirling inside me. “I’ve dreamed of opening La Petite Rose since I was a little girl. It’s named after my French heritage through my mother, and my English father, James, who always called me his ‘little rose’ when I was a little girl.”

I take a deep breath before continuing. Normally I'd make a comment about my weight. Not today. Today, I'm comfortable in my skin. They—my pack—made me feel this way. “I never thought I’d get here. Sometimes I thought I’d lost everything—my dream, my hope, my future. But then I found something even better than what I’d imagined.”

My eyes find Zane beside me. “I found the best work partner in the world,” I say, squeezing Zane’s hand as my gaze drifts to Thorne, Miller, and Stone. “And I found the pack I’d always yearned for.”

Tears fill my eyes as I look at each of my alphas. “You gave me a home when I was lost. You gave me love when I thought I didn’t deserve it. And you gave me the strength to make this dream a reality.”

The tears I’ve been holding back finally spill over, and a sob escapes my lips. It’s all too much—this bakery, my family being here, my pack loving me, all of it washing over me in a tidal wave I can’t control.

“I’m sorry,” I choke out, wiping at my eyes. “I didn’t mean to—”

Before I can finish, Harlow is at my side. She takes my hand in hers and squeezes tight.

“Don’t you dare apologize,” she says fiercely. “Not today. Not ever.”

I look at her through my tears, this woman who became my best friend.

“You know,” Harlow continues, she swallows her voice thick with emotion, “when you first showed up at the airport with a box of pastries and a big smile, I knew you were something special.”

A watery laugh bubbles up from my chest at the memory. “Holly begged me to take you in.”

Harlow shakes her head. “I was a stranger to you, yet you gave me a place to stay because you have a beautiful heart,” she whispers.

“I’m only kidding. I loved having you stay.”

She smiles. “And I love being around you. You gave me friendship when I needed it most,” Harlow continues. “You spent hours listening to me ramble about my life. And when I couldn’t sleep, you baked me stress-relief cookies at midnight. And it was you who held my hand through my fear of being an omega.”

She glances around at the gathered crowd, then back at me. “You’re the most wonderful and funniest person I know, Freya Rose. You see the good in everyone—but not yourself. But what you never lacked was your belief in your dream. Not only for a baby but also for a business when most omegas look for someone to look after them. You went out to get what you wanted when it seemed impossible. And now look at you.” She glances at my alphas. “In fact, look at us. One girl who never believed she was an omega and one who definitely did, but never believed she was worthy of a pack. And now we’re both so lucky to find our mates.”

I sniffle, squeezing her hand back. “I wouldn’t be here without you. You made me believe I was special.”

“You are special and yes, you would,” Harlow insists. “That’s the thing about you—you’d have found a way. But I’m so glad I got to be part of your journey.” She wipes a tear from her cheek with the back of her hand. “My fierce, funny, fabulous best friend.”

I pull her into a tight hug, burying my face in her shoulder. “I love you,” I murmur.

“I love you too,” she whispers back. “Now stop crying or you’ll make me ruin my makeup.”

I laugh through my tears, feeling lighter somehow, surrounded by all the love in this room. But just when I think I have it under control. I burst into tears, overwhelmed by the moment.

Thorne is instantly at my side, his face creased with concern. “Are you okay?”

I hear Harlow laugh behind me. “She’s fine. This is Freya loving something. She’s always been a crier.”

I chuckle through the tears. “Remember when we watched that documentary about the seals?” I manage through my tears. “I cried for three days when I found out they left their young after twelve days.”

Harlow nods. “I understood that one, but not the time you found that perfectly shaped heart-rock on the beach and cried again.”

“I told you it was a sign!” I defend, hiccupping through my tears and laughter.

“It was.” She nods to my alphas, who are gathering around me, their arms encircling me from all sides.

I feel Thorne’s strength, Zane’s warmth, and Miller’s steadiness.

“We love you,” Thorne murmurs, pressing a kiss to my temple.

“Every tear,” Zane adds, his lips finding my cheek as he kisses away a stray tear.

“Every laugh,” Miller finishes, his hand warm on my back.

“Here’s to this pack. And to La Petite Rose, and to my beautiful daughter, Freya Rose,” my father yells.

Cheers are all around, and I close my eyes, savoring the moment. La Petite Rose is open, and my heart is full.

“It looks like we’re open for business,” Zane whispers in my ear.

“You can do this, Freya,” Miller says as I glance at the customers lining up at the door.

“Thank you.”

“Love you, Freya.” Thorne presses a kiss on my temple as my mother, holding Stone, opens the door.

She gets a few looks, but she doesn’t react like she normally would. Instead, she says, “This is my daughter’s bakery. Isn’t it wonderful?”

I smile.

After all the darkness, all the pain, all the doubt—this is where my life was heading. I’m in the arms of my pack and surrounded by love while building a future sweeter than any pastry I could ever create.