Page 92 of That Defining Moment

“Two degrees of arc,” Ryland repeated, and slid it across the island to Cassian.

Cassian picked up the first sliver with both hands and bit into it. The sponge was so light and the buttercream so sharp with passionfruit that his eyes closed of their own accord.

The second sliver followed before he’d finished swallowing the first, crumbs falling down the front of his t-shirt and catching in the creases.

Ryland folded the paper in half, then quarters, and placed it in the recycling bin. He wiped the knife, returned it to the drawer, and positioned the spatula back in its designated slot. Then he replaced the cake box lid and left the kitchen without a word.

Cassian stood alone at the island with buttercream on his fingers and passionfruit on his tongue, watching the empty doorway through which Ryland had disappeared. The whole operation had taken less than ninety seconds.

Cassian licked the last of the buttercream from his thumb and went to join his family.

✦ ✧ ✦

Lysander was crouched beside the sound system with a cable in each hand, threading one into the back of the nearest speaker while Diwa pointed at a port that was apparently the wrong port, then the right port, then the wrong port again.

“The 3.5 mil goes into the—”

“I know where the 3.5 mil goes, Diwa.”

“You’re holding the optical.”

Lysander looked at both cables, swore under his breath, and swapped them.

Cassian had wedged himself onto the sofa beside Hamish, who still had Max asleep across his chest in a position that looked wildly uncomfortable for the alpha and supremely comfortable for the baby.

Stephen sat on Hamish’s other side, his legs drawn up and his chin resting on his knees, watching his twin.

Ryland had settled cross-legged on the floor beside the subwoofer with a notebook open on his knee. Cassian could see the diagram he’d drawn of the speaker arrangement, every measurement annotated, which he kept holding up for Diwa to refer to.

The cable found its correct home. A soft hiss came through the speakers, followed by a clean tone that Lysander killed with a tap on his mobile, and then the room went quiet.

Lysander straightened up. He looked at the mobile in his hand for a moment, then crossed to the armchair and dropped into the space beside Colin, pressing his shoulder into his father’s arm. Colin’s hand came up and settled on the back of Lysander’s neck.

“I want to say something first,” Lysander said. “Before I play it.”

The room stilled. Even Max, who had been gumming the collar of Hamish’s shirt, went quiet.

Lysander’s thumb traced the edge of his mobile. His gaze moved over the faces around him, and landed back on Colin.

“I couldn’t tell this story without you and Stevie,” Lysander said. “That’s not — I’m not being sentimental. It’s a practical impossibility. You were both literally there from the beginning. All of it. Every single thing that happened to me, you two were already in the room.” His jaw tightened. “I’ve had days where I wasn’t sure I should be telling it at all. There are parts of our lives in there that are mine to talk about and parts that aren’t, and I’ve gone back and forth about whether I’ve got any right to open all of it up for others.”

Colin’s fingers tightened on him.

“But you both told me to,” Lysander said. “When I came to you and said I wasn’t sure, you said the story needed telling. Because of other omegas out there like us.” His gaze moved to Cassian, held there, then back to his father. “And the alphas in their orbit.”

Stephen’s chin lifted from his knees. He didn’t say anything. He reached across Hamish’s lap and found Lysander’s hand, and their fingers laced together.

Lysander pressed play.

The speakers filled the room with a voice Cassian had heard in every register it owned, but never quite like this.

“My father was fourteen,” Lysander’s voice said, “seven months pregnant with twins, and struggling to breathe…”

Cassian watched Colin’s face.

Diwa sat on the arm of Colin’s chair with his hand resting on the back of Colin’s neck, his thumb moving against his skin. His body was curved towards Colin, close enough to hold him together without Colin quite noticing it was happening.

Stephen had closed his eyes. He looked like someone listening to a piece of music he already knew by heart but had never heard performed live.