Guilt washes over me. “I don’t think you’re silly.”
“Does that mean you’re happy for me?”
I set the wine bottle on the counter and take her hands in mine. The possibility that I might ruin something genuine for her sits like lead in my stomach. What if they really do love her? What if they’ve changed? What if I’m just projecting my own bitterness onto their relationship?
And even if they are hiding something—would telling her now even make a difference? Or would I just be making her choose between her sister and the alphas she fell in love with?
“I am happy for you,” I say finally. “If they make you happy, then I’m happy. I just want to make sure they’re good enough for my little sister.”
She brightens. “They are! They’re amazing, Trin. They treat me like I’m the most important person in the world. And they’re so supportive,” she continues. “They don’t mind that I want to focus on being a good mate instead of finishing school. They say they want me to be happy, whatever that means forme.”
Of course they don’t mind. It’s exactly what they’ve always wanted from an omega—what I couldn’t give them.
“That’s great,” I manage. “I’m sorry if I seemed weird. I just want to get to know the alphas who are marrying my sister.”
She throws her arms around me. “You’re the best sister ever. And the best wedding planner! Everything’s going to be perfect.”
I hug her back, breathing in her scent that is familiar enough to break through the block of my suppressants—sweet and fresh like linen. No matter what game those three are playing, I won’t be the one to break Josie’s heart. If they truly love her, then I’ll swallow my pride and my history for her happiness.
The kitchen door swings open, and Egret strolls in with casual confidence that makes my spine stiffen. His presence fills the small space, and that familiar alpha bearing brings unwanted memories flooding back.
“There you are,” he says to Josie, his smile warm and genuine in a way that twists something inside me. “Hans is looking for your baby photo albums. Something about showing us how adorable you were as a pup.”
Josie’s eyes widen in horror. “Oh no! Those are so embarrassing!” She bolts from the kitchen. “Dad! Don’t you dare!”
The door swings shut behind her, leaving me alone with Egret. His smile vanishes instantly, replaced by a cold, calculating expression I remember all too well.
“Are we going to have a problem?” he asks, voice low and controlled.
I set the wine bottle down with more force than necessary. “Excuse me? You’re the one who started this charade.”
“We had no idea Josephine was your sister when we met her.” He crosses his arms, leaning against the counter.
“Right.” I roll my eyes. “You just happened to get engaged to her without ever making the connection.”
“Things moved fast and by the time we realized, we were already committed.”
“That’s a pretty big coincidence,” I scoff. “You knew I had a little sister.”
“You two have different last names,” he points out. “Jones and Becker.”
“It’s not like I expected to randomly run into her in a city this big. And you look nothing alike,” he continues, gesturing vaguely. “She’s blonde, petite, classically beautiful. You’re...” He pauses, eyes sweeping over me in a way that makes my cheeks burn with embarrassment. “…different.”
I open my mouth to retort, but hesitate. It’s true that Josie and I don’t share many physical traits. She takes after her father, while I’m the spitting image of my mother with a few traits from a father I never knew.
It is true that I never changed my last name after Mom remarried.
And my pride won’t let me ask what the hell he means bydifferent.
“Besides,” Egret continues, his voice dropping to that infuriatingly reasonable tone he always used when he thought I was being irrational. “The alternative makes no sense. Unless you think so highly of yourself that you believe three successful alphas orchestrated an entire engagement just to stick it to you?”
His words land like a slap. Put that way, it does sound ridiculous—narcissistic even. Would they really go to suchlengths just because I chose my career over them practically a lifetime ago?
“Josephine is exactly the kind of omega we’ve always wanted to marry,” he says, twisting the knife deeper. “Sweet, supportive, puts family first. Everything you didn’t want to be.”
The words sting precisely because they echo my own insecurities. I’ve always known I wasn’t the traditional omega—too ambitious, too independent, too focused on building something for myself.
“I hope you’ve been able to move on, Trinity,” he says, his tone softening into something almost pitying. “We have.”
