Page 6 of Omega’s Fold

“I need you to listen to me for a minute without laughing.”

“Never going to happen,” Eli says. “What have you done now?”

“I’ve been matched.”

There’s a pause. Then Eli starts laughing. I hold the phone away from my ear until he’s done.

“Are you finished?”

“No. Give me a second.” He takes a breath. “Ninety what? It’s over ninety. You wouldn’t have called me otherwise. What is it?”

“Ninety-two.”

“Oh my God.” He’s laughing again. “Who is he?”

It takes a second for the name to come back. “His name is Wyatt Briggs. He’s a rancher.”

“A what?”

“A rancher,” I say again.

Eli laughs again. “Like, horses?”

“I don’t know what kind of ranch. The profile said rancher. I’m assuming cattle.”

“Jules,” Eli says. “I have never in my life been so delighted by anything.”

“I have to tell Mom and Dad. Don’t tell them first. Let me do it.”

“Oh sure, but please let me be there when you do.”

“No, just… Eli, this is a big thing. The Bureau is going to force it. You know that. I’m going to need you to have my back.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “Always, you know that. But doesn’t mean that this isn’t hilarious.”

“Goodbye, Eli.”

“Send me a picture of you on a horse.” He giggles, actually giggles. “Even better, get your rancher boy toy to take a photo of you falling off one.”

I hang up.

I sit with the phone in my hand. Eli is an idiot. Eli has always been an idiot. It’s one of the more reliable things about my life.

I don’t call my mother. Let me at least meet the guy first.

The Omega Match Bureau has offices in every major city and then a number of smaller regional hubs which range from full offices to a single person covering the role in another government office. Parish Ridge does not have a hub or a representative.

The Bureau has arranged for us to meet half way. It’s a small regional office at enough of a distance that I have taken an overnight bag.

They haven’t given us much time to plan for it either. It’s set two days from now.

But I can do that. I shift things around on my calendar, moving a couple of meetings and take the day off work.

I leave before it is dark on Thursday morning and I’m at the regional office at eleven forty-five for a midday appointment. A woman on reception takes my name and my ID and directs me to a small seating area with a water cooler and three chairs.

There is a woman on the third chair. The second is empty. Briggs hasn’t arrived.

I pull out my phone and check my work emails, answering a few.