Page 45 of Knot So Social

This isn’t the same house either. No, this space belongs only to me, and I get to choose what comes, and goes, in here. I spend all day telling other omegas to take charge of their lives, so a little nest building shouldn’t be a hard task.

And the room isn’t going to clean or furnish itself while I stand around staring.

I drag out the broom, vacuum, and mop and work my way around, even sugar soaping the walls when my nerves get the better of me. Mr Shares idles around the cleaning tools, sticking his nose in everything and sneezing at the dust. I work up a sweat pretty fast, heat lingering in the room and sticking to my body. Nothing the aircon can’t fix, but a flush still pervades my skin.

Each hour feels like a month with the lurking heat threat.

Flightiness dances through my body, and I twitch at every unknown sound, nearly jumping out of my skin when Mr Shares knocks the mop over. I hate things not being certain. Unlike my team of staff around the globe, I can’t order my omega nature away. Can’t ignore it and pick a different, less difficult topic to address. Can’t delete the hushed commentary running through my brain, mocking my efforts.

My phone rings from the other end of the house.

“Dammit!” I mutter, dropping my cleaning rags and hobbling to the kitchen. I don’t make it in time, because I’m too darn slow. The contact shows up as the heat service. Clutching at the phone, I immediately dial the number. What if they’ve closed for the day already?

“Heat Wave services, my name is Debbie, how may I help you?”

Relief pours through me. “Hi, this is Willow. I just missed your call.”

“Oh, Willow! Thanks for returning my call. I was phoning to let you know that we can send you an alpha on Friday.”

I grip the phone, my tummy flip-flopping. The way she phrases it makes me think of a mail-delivered package.

“Are you still there?”

“Yes, I’m . . . that’s good news.”

“Great,” Debbie continues. “I’m afraid we can’t offer you a choice of alpha profiles, however we do have a service officer who meets your requirements. I’ll send you an information pack via email with everything you need to know. Does that sound okay?”

“Yes. And thank you for fitting me in.”

“Our pleasure.”

I drop onto a bar stool, my legs weak. “Oh, one more thing. I don’t know how long my heat will last. They used to be three days but now . . . Well, I don’t know anymore.”

“That’s no problem, ma’am. The alpha will be available for as long as you need. They usually work one week on, one week off, just in case the heats run longer.”

“Okay. Yeah, that’s good news.” I clear my throat.

The idea of a man being available for as long as I need seems foreign. Drives home the fact he’s a hundred percent coming for my benefit and not for his own needs.

“And he’ll definitely come to my home?” I ask.

“Yes, he will. And I’ve sent the invoice through to your email separately. Please know the booking isn’t confirmed until it’s been paid for, but if you are experiencing financial difficulty—”

“That’s not a problem.” Now that I have my answer, I’m antsy to get off the phone. We finish up and I huff out a big gust of air.

“Phew.” I drop into the closest chair. “I have a heat partner.”

Mr Shares nudges my limp hand with his wet nose and yips, as if he understands this is big news.

The screen still glows with the open phone app, and I change the contact to Dial-a-Man. Just as a joke, to ease my nerves. Better pay that invoice—the last thing I need is some painful mix up where no one comes to my door.

I drag my tablet over from the coffee table and flick to my emails. When I open the invoice, I get a nice surprise. Thanks to government subsidies, the service charges a bit under $1000, and most of that cost is because I asked for a house call. Heat Wave has even more funding offsets and grants available for omegas finding themselves in trouble, or payment plans for those who need them.

Well, damn.

If only I knew about a place like this back when I was living on my own, I wouldn’t have suffered so much. Maybe I’ll do a shout out on my channel in the future, to make sure my audience knows about options like this.

I log into my banking app and check my main account, habit driving me to count the digits in the balance. Once, where there were only cents, I now have hundreds of thousands in liquid money, but the anxiety around finance still lingers.