He leads the way through the house, chattering about his baking adventures as we follow. I relax with every step, despite the opulence of this place.
I was expecting the Grizzlies' home to be big, but more like a penthouse bachelor pad, not a mansion emanating old wealth at every turn. And yet, somehow, it's comfortable. Inviting.
The dining room is as impressive as the rest of the house, with a large table that could easily seat twelve. It's been set for six, with simple but elegant place settings and several serving dishes already laid out.
"Wow," I say, genuinely impressed. "You guys went all out."
"It's the least we could do," Jax says, pulling out a chair for me. "After how we behaved at The Terrace."
I take the offered seat, Darren settling beside me. The others arrange themselves around the table with Jax at the head, Dmitri and Zayn across from us, and Aidan at the other end.
"Before we eat," Jax continues, his gray eyes meeting mine directly, "we owe you an apology. A real one."
The sincerity in his voice catches me off guard. I'd expected something perfunctory, maybe even reluctant, not this straightforward acknowledgment. Sorry isn't something the alphas I've known are eager to say.
Or the betas either, if I'm being honest.
"What happened at the restaurant was inexcusable," he says, each word measured and deliberate. "We were rude, disrespectful, and made you feel unwelcome. That's not who we are, or at least not who we strive to be."
"What the boy scout is trying to say is we fucked up," Zayn adds bluntly, earning a sharp look from Jax. "What? We did. No point sugar-coating it, it's not a press conference."
"He has a point," Dmitri interjects, his voice calm but firm. "Our behavior reflected poorly on us, both as individuals and as a pack. And it had nothing to do with you."
"It really didn't," Aidan agrees earnestly. "It was a... a pack thing. But that's no excuse."
I look around at their faces, searching for signs of insincerity or reluctance. But all I see is genuine regret, even from Zayn.
"I appreciate the apology," I say carefully. "But I'm still not entirely clear on what happened. One minute we were having dinner, and the next you all were gone."
The four exchange glances, some unspoken communication passing between them. It's Jax who finally speaks.
"It was a shock," he says, choosing his words with obvious care. "Meeting you. We weren't prepared for... for how well you and Darren seemed to connect."
I frown, not quite buying this explanation. "So you were what, jealous? Protective?"
"Not exactly," Dmitri says simply. "Before we met you, yes. But after… It is complicated."
"Pack dynamics often are," Zayn adds, leaning back in his chair with studied casualness. "Especially in this shitshow."
"I can understand that," I say, softening slightly. "Change is hard."
They exchange another look. Years of cooperation, pack intimacy, and yes, probably a lot of fighting, have created a connection that allows them to speak without words. With automatic understanding. Just one of many things that have always made being a part of a pack look so damn appealing, even if fate clearly has other ideas for me.
"It's not about Darren's status," Jax says carefully. "At least, not this."
"Then what is it?" I ask, unable to mask the hurt in my voice entirely.
The four men exchange another loaded glance, and I feel my patience wearing thin. I already feel like an outsider.
Jax clears his throat, his gray eyes finding Darren's in what looks like a silent question. Darren gives a subtle nod, his hand finding mine under the table and squeezing gently.
"Lexie," Jax begins, "what happened at The Terrace wasn't about us not approving of you, or discomfort."
"Then what was it about?" I press, the memory of that humiliating evening still fresh. "Because from where I was sitting, it sure looked like four alphas who couldn't get away from me fast enough."
"It was the opposite, actually," Aidan blurts out, his cheeks flushing immediately. "We weren't trying to get away from you. We were... processing."
"Processing what?" I look between them, my confusion mounting.
