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“Yes,” Jonah stated matter of fact. “You took him to your parents’ house without sharing a fraction of the truth. Then instead of allowing the focus to stay on you and your lying, you turned the tables and threw in his face that he has yet to adequately express his feelings for you. Then,” he stressed, “when he tells you he’s infertile, you stare at him.”

“What was I supposed to say? If I said the wrong thing, that would have made matters worse.”

Jason interjected, “And, might I add, you haven’t called this mystery man for three weeks.”

“The phone works both ways,” I complained.

“Fair,” Jonah muttered around a bite of food. “But”—he gestured at me with his fork—“You have a tendency to do this.”

I rolled my eyes, my voice holding a note of indignation when I asked, “Do what?”

“Whenever something seems good for you—”

Jason added, cutting across Jonah, “Or whenever you really, really want something.”

“—You self-sabotage and give up,” Jonah finished.

“And before you say you don’t, need I remind you of culinary school, studying abroad of your own volition, the first time you tried to open a restaurant, and now this poor, sweet omega,” Jason clicked his tongue against his teeth, shaking his head.

Sighing loudly, I scrubbed a hand down my face. “He still doesn’t know I’m a dominant alpha.”

“Yet you know something so incredibly deep and personal about him,” Jonah pointed out.

“How am I supposed to tell him what I am? If I couldn’t tell him who I am, how am I supposed to tell him what I am?”

“You tell him in person. None of this text message or phone call bullshit,” Jason chastised.

Jonah stated the obvious. “That would first require Eli making contact with him.”

Right now, at this moment, I felt like a complete and total asshole. There was a lot I willingly hid from Delaney. And try as I might, my rationalization of this was coming up short. “I’m—,” I began but Jason and Jonah simultaneously extended their phones and in unison said,

“Don’t tell us. Tell him.”

I swatted their hands. “I have my own phone. Lock up when you guys leave. I’ll see you tomorrow, Jason.” I hurried down to my office, my fear growing with every step. What if… Delaney didn’t want to be with me?

That thought stopped me from picking up the phone over the past few weeks. If Delaney rejected me, it would possibly be the worst pain I’d ever experienced. Right now, I’m struggling emotionally. I’m irritable, having trouble sleeping, and didn’t have an appetite, but if I actually heard I’m not wanted…

Why does this have to be so complicated?

I exhaled a heavy breath, deciding to rip the goddamn band aid off. I quickly dialed Delaney’s number before I changed my mind, forcing myself to wait as it rang.

An unfamiliar male voice answered, “Delaney's phone. Who might I say is calling?”

I froze, anger and possession flaring hot and bright in my chest. “I see he’s moved on already. Tell him he doesn’t need to call me back.” I hung up, not giving the other man a chance to speak.

However, within seconds, my phone was ringing.

“What?!”

“How dare you,” Delaney said, his voice thin and shaking with rage. “How dare you have the audacity to not speak to me for three weeks, call out of the blue, and then be angry when my friend answers my phone.”

Friend…

“You didn’t call me either,” I lamely pointed out. I knew it was childish, but going tit for tat helped to lessen the pain. “Did your friend have your phone for the past three weeks?”

“Fuck you, Elias.” The beeping of a disconnected call followed his anguished voice.

I pulled the receiver away from my ear to stare for a few seconds. I hit redial and as soon as the phone was answered, asked, “You didn’t call me for three weeks either, yet I’m the one in the wrong?”