Knot a Good Idea (Bittersweet Omegas #4)

Chapter 4

4

APRIL

I stare at my phone, huffing as I read the text from Donovan.

Wear something nice .

As opposed to what?

“I still can’t believe this is happening,” Skylar says as she rummages through my closet. She pulls out a simple black cocktail dress. “This would be cute. Super classy.”

She’s more excited about the date than I am.

Everyone is.

Skylar blabbed to my mom as soon as she walked through our front door, gossiping about what happened at the café.

Now, my mom is just as invested, standing in my doorway as my best friend shows her the dress. “I think it would be appropriate for where you’re going,” she says.

Where we’re going happens to be an award-winning restaurant an hour from here known for their French cuisine and a six month long waiting list.

But it’s obvious how Donovan was able to make it happen.

The man is loaded .

He’s the CEO of a tech corporation—I was wrong in assuming he was a finance guy.

This is worse.

I didn’t recognize him, just like he didn’t recognize me.

At least we have that in common.

“Why the hell is he in Isleton, anyway?” I murmur, staring up at my ceiling. I lay on my bed, still in my lounge clothes while Skylar rummages through my things.

“People come here all the time for land development,” my mom says. “He could be interested in buying up property.”

“What, so he can build some thirty-million-dollar home?”

“April, can you stop being negative for like, two seconds?” Skylar huffs. “Can you just let yourself enjoy something?”

“Pot, meet kettle.”

But that’s not true anymore. Ever since Skylar found her pack, she’s been smiling more. She’s been more positive than ever while I spiral into an abyss of self-loathing and negativity.

Like I said—I came back wrong.

Give yourself grace.

My mom looks at me with a frown on her face. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to, April.”

Skylar sighs. “Yeah, if it’s too much, you shouldn’t go.”

Their voices are laced with pity again.

I can’t take it. I sigh and rub at my eyes, a headache forming. “No. I’m going. It’s just a bizarre situation, to say the least. I don’t understand why he would ask me out after only talking to me for a few moments.”

“River offered to tail you?—”

“No Skylar, I don’t need your boyfriend to tail me on a date. I’m a big girl. I can do this.”

“You are,” my mom agrees. “I’m proud of you, honey.”

Proud of what?

Proud that I can act like a semi-normal human being? That should be the bare minimum.

But I do my best to smile at her, the action still foreign to me after all these months. “Thanks.”

My phone buzzes, and I see a text from Sandy light up my screen.

Good luck! Enjoy yourself .

She was the first person I told about the date. She thought it was a good idea as well, and the fact that I have my therapist backing me along with my mom and friends is hopefully enough to allow me to enjoy the evening with Donovan.

But I don’t know what to say to him. Yes, there is attraction there—his scent is intoxicating and my body reacted to him immediately—but I’m not sure if we have anything else in common.

I guess that’s the point of the date, though.

“Stop overthinking it,” Skylar says, tossing the cocktail dress onto the bed. “You’re too analytical. Just enjoy yourself. It’s a date, for fuck’s sake. You’re not going on trial. And I would gnaw off my foot to go to French Jardin. So, at least let me live vicariously through you.”

I shake my head and stifle a laugh. “Fine. I’ll try.”

“Damn right you will. If you don’t, I’ll send Devyn after you. That little terror will bite your head off.”

Devyn.

I swallow and my stomach flips at the thought of my friend. I have no plan to save her job or Jamie or Luke’s. And now is not the time to tell Skylar especially when she’s more excited than I am about tonight.

“Hey,” Skylar says gently. “What did I say?”

I shake my head. “Nothing. I just have a lot going on in my head right now.”

“Hah. Tell me about it.”

But you have a pack , a part of me thinks. You have support. You’re growing. You’re stronger than you ever were.

And I’m not.

I’m not sure I ever will be again.

It takes some convincing, but Skylar and my mom end up going to dinner by themselves, leaving me alone in the house waiting for Donovan.

The cocktail dress used to fit my curves perfectly—now it’s a little loose, reminding me of how much my appearance has changed.

No amount of concealer covers the purple circles under my eyes. My hair is dull when it used to be a rich shiny chestnut.

I look…drab.

Why on earth would this man ask me out? He could have anyone he wants judging by his looks and wealth. A quick internet search told me more about him—in his interviews, he carries himself well, speaking with a low, sexy timbre. He’s extremely intelligent, too.

Skylar was right. He is my type. Or he was, before everything that happened this year.

My stomach flips as the doorbell rings at exactly six thirty in the evening. I smooth my hair, wondering for the hundredth time what the hell I’m doing before opening the door.

When my eyes meet his, I realize I’m well and truly fucked.