Page 3 of The Bright Omega

I take a slow sip of wine. She's been through more in the last year than most people see in a lifetime. But for omegas, scenting our mates is literally hard-wired into our DNA.

"Hey," I say. "It might still come back."

She gives me the small, practiced smile she uses when she's done talking about herself. "Did you finish the Saint's write-up?"

I follow her lead. "Do not get me started."

She grins. "That good or that bad?”

"That consuming." I lean my head back against the couch cushion. "Lucy. I have written and rewritten that campaign copy seven times. Seven. Because every time I think I've nailed it, either Saint or Lark comes back with something new, and I have to figure out how to make it sound like we planned it all along."

"New flavor?"

"Salted caramel," I confirm, with the exhaustion of a woman who has been thinking about flavored espresso add-ins for approximately six consecutive weeks. "Which, okay, objectively a brilliant idea. I mean, it is Lark’s scent. And marketing your omega’s scent flavor to other omegas hits a certain OMG I want this in my life, too vibe. Plus, it’s like really good.”

"I didn’t realize they were marketing it. I thought it was just for friends and family." Lucy says.

"I know. But it’s so good, he didn’t want to sit on it. Anyway." I wave a hand. "The Sweet Shots are a genius addition to his brand. Saint is annoyingly talented. And his coffee—" I stop. Press my lips together. "I don’t want to say it."

Lucy is already laughing. "Say it."

"It's truly the best on the market. But he’s already so cocky, so maybe don’t tell him I said that.”

She dissolves in laughter. Saint is her brother’s pack mate, so she knows I speak only the truth. I let myself smile, a real one that’s big and unguarded, because there's no one easier to be around than Lucy when she laughs. She goes all the way with it, shoulders shaking, free hand pressed to her sternum.

Lucy takes another sip when she recovers. "I’m sure you’re ready for a break. You've worked so hard on the launch."

"I really have." I say it without false modesty because it's true. It's not even my job, technically. My job is marketing for OmegaBox, a monthly subscription box aimed at omegas. But Lark loves Saint, so I love Saint.

His new business officially launched two weeks ago. And now it’s going into OmegaBox’s next shipment, which means at this point it is sort of my job. It doesn’t matter, I would have thrown myself at it with my whole entire heart anyway.

“Silas said that Saint’s stock is already on back-order.” Silas is Lucy’s brother and one of Lark’s other alphas. She has three.

I nod. “Yep, but that’s mostly because it’s largely promised to OmegaBox. His business launch was soft, at best. Next month’s shipment, plus all the good comments from our social media partners, that’s what’s going to sell the omegas of North America on Saint’s Coffee.”

“But then you’ll be done with it and on to new things.”

I can’t help but frown at that. I might like to bitch about the work it took to get his business out the door, but in reality, it’s the most fun I’ve had at work in a long time. I love that part of marketing when an idea is new and the company hasn’t gotten any traction yet.

“Don’t remind me,” I groan. “I was just informed today that my next major hurdle is going to be making toilet paper look sexy.”

She hides her grin in her wine glass. The city glitters below us, all lights and motion, the river a dark ribbon through the middle of it. A comfortable quiet settles.

Lucy tucks one curl behind her ear and glances over at me. “But how are you? Not work Cammie, or best friend Cammie. You.”

She has these big brown eyes that wait. I don’t know if she’s always been good at making a person spill their guts, or if it’s something she picked up over time.

I take a sip of wine. "My heat's coming," I say. "And I have a situation."

Lucy shifts to face me more fully, pulling her knees tighter to her chest. "What kind of situation?"

"The kind where, somewhere between my first and ninety-ninth draft of Saint's marketing copy, I snuck out to see my doctor."

Her brows lift. "My dad?"

"Your dad," I confirm. "Dr. Jeremy Caron, omega specialist, bearer of uncomfortable truths, and truly the nicest man alive even when he's telling you things you don't want to hear."

Lucy smiles. "What did he say?"