Page 89 of Omega's Faith

"Diana's going to be insufferable. She's already talking about estate planning for the baby and who is going to be in charge of the trust fund.”

"Of course she is."

We sit in the car afterwards, processing. The last six months have been a whirlwind of changes. Counseling twice a week—once together with Dr. Lowe, once separately. Alex dealing with his sobriety and childhood trauma. Me learning to speak up for what I need instead of either submitting to keep the peace or being far to passive-aggressive for my own good or for Alex’s.

We still fight, but it's different now. Less cruel, more productive. We're learning each other's triggers, each other's needs.

"Your family dinner is tonight," Alex says suddenly.

"You remembered."

"Of course I remembered. I've been dreading it all week."

These regular dinners with my family have become a tradition. Alex mostly enjoys them except when Pastor David is there making his pointed comments about salvation and sin.

"They don't dislike you as much anymore," I offer.

"Robert definitely still hates me."

"Robert's protective."

“That he is. And he’s your brother and I love him for that.”

That's the thing about Alex—he tries now. Not just with the big things like sobriety, but with the small things too. He holds his tongue when Pastor David preaches. He helps Mom in the kitchen, even as the alphas in the family give him odd looks fordoing it.

He plays with my nieces and nephews, letting them climb all over his designer clothes.

"I love you," I say suddenly, surprising myself. We haven't said it yet, haven't crossed that line despite living as properly married for months now.

Alex goes completely still. "What?"

"I love you. I didn't expect to, didn't want to at first. But I do."

He turns to face me fully, those storm-gray eyes intense. "Say it again."

"I love you, you arrogant jerk."

He laughs, pulls me as close as the seatbelts allow. "I love you too, church mouse. Have for months. I was just too scared to say it first."

"Why?"

"Because I wasn’t sure if you were going to say it back."

I kiss him, deep and thorough, not caring that we're in a medical center parking lot in broad daylight.

"Take me home," I say against his lips. "We have two hours before dinner, and I want to celebrate properly."

His pupils dilate. "Yes, omega."

The moment we're inside the estate and out of the car, he presses me against the wall, kissing me like he's drowning and I'm air.

"Careful," I gasp. "The baby—"

"I've read all about sex during pregnancy. I know what's safe." He drops to his knees, hands sliding up my thighs. "Let me worship you properly."

And he does. Thoroughly. Until I'm gasping his name and seeing stars.

After, we lie in our bed—properly our bed now, not his or mine but ours—my head on his chest, his hand rubbing circles on my belly.