Page 15 of Omega's Faith

“Thank you, that will be lovely,” Dad says.

Diana frowns and coughs, looking at Alex. He actually rolls his eyes and then puts down his phone and puts his hand out to my father. “Hello, good to see you again.”

Dad shakes it, then Alex shakes Mom’s hand. He doesn’t shake mine. He doesn’t even look at me.

"Now then." Diana opens a leather portfolio thick with papers. "We have three weeks until the wedding of the season."

"Three weeks?" Mom's voice pitches high.

"Optimal timing for media coverage. The prime match announcement has generated significant interest." Diana flips through pages covered in timelines and spreadsheets. It has been twenty-four hours and someone has put that entire binder together for her. "A ninety-six percent compatibility rating. The public is fascinated."

With that comment, I am suddenly convinced that she tipped off the press outside.

"The Bellmont is available on the twenty-third," she continues.

The Bellmont? Even I’ve heard of that. And they just happened to have availability? Just as the thought hits, I realize that they didn’t have availability. They would havemadeavailability.

Some other poor saps have lost their wedding venue at the last minute because Diana decided that’s what she wanted.

I glance at Alex. He’s barely paying attention. This is his life. Every inconvenience bulldozed out of the way without him asking or even noticing.

And me? I’m more than an inconvenience if I don’t play my part. How would they bulldoze me?

Diana doesn’t appear to notice that I’ve suddenly gone still.

"I've reserved the grand ballroom. We should manage to fit around a thousand guests, not including press."

The room tilts. A thousand people. My lungs forget how to work.

While I’m panicking, the first course arrives: over a dozen tiny dishes come out borne by an array of bow-tied waiters who fuss over them for a moment, adding spice with a flourish, setting out tiny cutlery and, memorably, for one dish, putting the flame out.

I don’t know what half of this stuff is but fortunately, there is definitely no spaghetti sauce for me to spill.

I’m half tempted to ask for spaghetti anyway and watch these fancypants people explode with horror.

Mom gives a bright smile. “Thank you, this looks lovely, but about the wedding... we were hoping for something... smaller. Something with family and close friends. Our church—"

"Ah yes, I need to ask about the church." Diana reaches for a notepad. She looks up. None of us have dared reach for the food. “Come now. Eat. Eat."

She waves at the tiny dishes. I reach for my plate and as I begin to reach for something that might be chicken, a waiter appears out of nowhere, startling me. He takes the dish and starts spooning it onto my plate for me. Maybe if I open my mouth like a baby bird, he’ll spoon it straight in there too.

I notice that despite telling us to eat, Diana hasn’t reached for anything herself. Instead, she taps the tip of her pen on the paper. “The Faith Heritage Fellowship. How long has your family been... involved?"

The way she says 'involved' makes it sound like we're in a criminal organization.

"All our lives," Dad says carefully. "I was baptized there. We were married there."

"How traditional. And your beliefs regarding omega roles?"

Mom shifts uncomfortably. "We believe in natural relationships between alpha and omega, with each serving their true roles."

"True roles." Diana's pen moves across the page. "And these roles would be?"

"Alphas lead and protect. Omegas nurture and support." Mom's voice stays steady, but I can smell her anxiety. "It's worked for us for almost three decades."

I can hear the defensiveness in her voice as she says it and anger coils in my belly. My parents are happy together. Why should she have to defend herself?

"Charming. And your pastor—Pastor White, was it? He shares these... traditional views?"