Page 83 of Omega's Faith

When we finish cooking and we’ve dished up to everyone at the table, I remain standing.

"I need to talk to you all," I begin, but the doorbell cuts me off.

We all freeze. No one rings the doorbell during family dinner. Everyone who would visit is already here.

"Probably reporters," Dad says, already moving toward the door with his Don't-Mess-With-My-Family face on.

But Mom gets there first. She opens the door, and I hear her make a small gasp.

"Mom?" I stand, something in my chest going tight.

She steps aside, and the world stops.

Alex stands on our doorstep.

"Jonah," he says, and his voice cracks on my name.

I can't move. I can't breathe. I can't do anything but stare at my alpha standing in my parents' doorway.

"Hi," I manage, and it's possibly the most inadequate greeting in the history of language.

Behind me, I hear Robert stand up. James sets down his fork. Even the kids have gone quiet, sensing the shift in atmosphere.

"May I come in?" he asks.

21. Alex

I stand on the doorstep, staring at Jonah's shocked face, trying to find words that won't make everything worse. Behind him, I can see his entire family frozen mid-dinner.

The four-hour drive here was a blur of highway. I spent the entirety of it trying to figure out what the hell I was going to say.

I'm sorry I disappeared. I'm sorry about Saskia. I'm sorry I'm such a fuck-up. I'm sorry you're pregnant with my child when I said I never wanted children.

None of it seemed right. None of it seemed enough.

Now, standing here on his doorstep with his family staring at me, I can smell the pot roast and hear the scrape of chairs as people shift to get a better view. Jonah's still in the doorway, one hand on the frame like he needs the support, eyes wide with something between hope and terror.

“May I come in?”

"Alex," he breathes, and then—

Click. Click. Flash.

"Alex! Is it true about you and Saskia?"

"Are you here to reconcile?"

"Jonah! Are you taking him back?"

More flashes. More shouting. I can see them now, pushing through the hedge at the property line.

"Get inside," Jonah's father appears suddenly, his hand firm on my shoulder, practically yanking me through the doorway. "Now."

The door slams behind us, but we can still hear them, their questions muffled but persistent through the walls. I've brought the circus to their door. Again.

The dining room goes silent as I enter. Six siblings, their spouses, a handful of kids, and Jonah's parents all staring at me like I'm a bomb that might go off. Someone's baby starts crying, breaking the spell.

"I'm sorry," I say to the room at large. "I didn't mean to interrupt dinner. Or bring..." I gesture vaguely toward the windows. "That."