“Yes. I’m making recommendations based on Quinn’s experience.”
Her finger traces a line of text without touching the screen. “You’ve turned yourself into an expert on the topic.”
That’s exactly what I’ve done, building my expertise until I can’t be ignored. It began as survival, unexamined and instinctive. Only after the fact does it come across as tactical.
“It’s working,” I say quietly. “Carson’s pulled back on some of the additional requirements since I joined the committee.”
Emily straightens, her hand resting on my shoulder. “Smart.”
The simple approval sends a ripple of satisfaction through me, different from the empty relief of Carson’s praise.
I save my document, fingers following the familiar shortcut. This table, this chair, this corner of Emily’s world has become mine in small, repeated moments, until I’m no longer a guest but someone who belongs here.
“Five more minutes,” Emily says, checking the oven where bread warms. “Want to finish the section before we eat?”
“Almost done.” I type a final sentence, committing to memory the words I’ll deliver to a roomful of parents and administrators on Monday. Words meant to please Carson, protect Quinn, and preserve my careful balance between two worlds.
Jared bursts through the back door in a gust of cold air, bringing with him the scent of oil. His cheeks glow red from the outdoor chill as he kicks off his boots and rubs his hands together.
At the table, I continue typing while Emily sets a stack of bowls beside my laptop with a soft clatter.
“Hey, Leif.” Jared heads to the sink to wash his hands, the water running dark. He notices the bread coming out of the oven and smirks. “Told you I’d finish before you had dinner on the table.”
“Yes, yes.” Emily slides the load onto the cutting board. “You’re an oil-changing genius.”
He tilts his cheek toward her. “Give me my reward.”
She walks over to plant a kiss on his cheek. “Good job.”
He preens as he grabs a scrub brush to get under his nails. “How’s the education system coming along, Professor?”
The teasing adds a secondary layer of warmth to the evening. “Slow but steady.”
I wasn’t sure at first how this would work, since I have no romantic interest in Jared, and by all accounts, the lack ofattraction goes both ways. I think it helps that he can’t sense my pheromones, so nothing about my Omega nature triggers his instincts.
So far, we’ve done well, with none of the in-pack jealousy or pressure I feared would crop up with me coming into their established relationship and taking some of Emily’s time away from him.
I accept the bowl Emily passes me, steam rising in fragrant clouds. “The parent advisory board is leaning toward revising the service animal policy. It’ll make things easier for future students like Quinn.”
Emily ladles stew into her own bowl, the thick orange liquid gleaming in the kitchen light. “That’s the third policy change you’ve helped push through.”
Her observation warms me more than the stew. She’s been keeping track.
Jared drops into the chair across from me, already spooning food into his mouth. “The muffler’s salvageable, too. The gasket needs to be replaced.”
Emily’s attention shifts to him. “Did you order the new part?”
“Yep. It will arrive on Tuesday.” He tears off a chunk of bread, using it to sop up the broth. “Leif, help me convince Em to buy a new truck.”
The casual inclusion in their practical planning catches me off guard. “I’m not sure I’m qualified?—”
She reaches out to flick Jared’s ear. “Don’t bring Leif into this. If you want a new truck for the house, you need to be more convincing.”
“Leif.” Jared clasps his hands together. “Back me up here.”
I peek at Emily from the corner of my eye. “If the cost of keeping the current vehicle running outweighs its value, and you’re not attached to it for sentimental reasons, and you can afford it…”
Jared slumps back in his chair. “Not convincing at all.”