Baiting Him (How to Catch an Alpha 2)

I take a deep breath as we look each other in the eye. I can’t imagine what she’s going through or the pain she’s felt since my dad walked away from her. I feel a little of it myself every time I think about him, but I will never understand the true depth of her despair. It wasn’t me who planned my entire future around him. It wasn’t me who was counting on him being there to spend the rest of my life with after my brother and I grew up and moved out. And I for sure didn’t experience him saying he was in love with someone else before having to endure the humiliation of him marrying someone else before the ink was even dry on the divorce papers.

“You’ll find happiness again, Mom. Whether it’s with a man or just yourself, you’ll find it again.”

“I know.” She looks away briefly to hide the tears I see forming in her eyes. Once she’s pulled herself together, she turns her head toward me, and her gaze is now filled with hope. “After our conversation last night, I realized I need to start focusing on me and the things I’ve always wanted to do—things that will make me happy.” She smiles, but I can tell it’s forced. “I can go to Hawaii, on a cruise, or around the world alone. I don’t need someone with me to do those things.”

“You don’t,” I agree.

“I don’t.” She lifts her chin. “But if I happen to stumble across someone in Hawaii or on a cruise, I might just take him along for my next adventure.”

I laugh, and soon she’s laughing with me. I can’t remember the last time we laughed together. It’s been too long. “I hope you find that man, Mom,” I tell her.

“Me too, honey, but even if I don’t, I’ll find a way to be happy again. I’m determined.”

“Good,” I whisper through the tightness in my throat.

“I want the same for you, you know.”

“What?” I ask, a little caught off guard by her suddenly serious tone.

“I want you to be happy too,” she tells me softly.

“I am happy, Mom,” I assure her.

She shakes her head. “I know you think you are, honey, but I promise you, when you actually feel happiness, the kind of happiness that roots itself in you and takes over your soul, you’ll know what I mean when I say I want you to be happy.”

I understand what she’s saying. I also know I’ll never be able to convince her that I am actually happy. Kind of . . . pretty much. Luckily for me, our drinks and then dinner arrive, giving us something else to focus on. We both dig into our meals with abandon and chat only about things that are easy to talk about.

After we finish with dinner, we walk out to the parking lot and hug goodbye before we get into our cars. As I drive to my place, the anticipation of seeing Gaston causes a jolt of adrenaline to sweep through my system. I should have opened up to my mom about him tonight. She was her old self throughout dinner, and I know the woman she was before my dad did what he did would have been happy to hear about the guy I was seeing.

Maybe next time, I think as I park in my designated parking spot. I send Gaston a text when I get out of my car to let him know I’ll be there soon, and he immediately texts back with a smiley emoji. When I got up this morning, I found two texts from him: one from last night wishing me a good night and the other from this morning wishing me a good morning. Having been with guys who didn’t put themselves out there, I wasn’t sure what to think about Gaston’s texts. Really, I’m not sure what to think about him in general. He doesn’t seem to be playing any sort of game. If anything, he just seems sure about wanting to get to know me.

Once I reach the lobby, I check my mailbox. I shove the stack of what I’m sure is mostly junk mail into my purse, then walk toward the bank of elevators. Inside, I scan the numbers, looking for the one that will take me up to Gaston. I never paid much attention to the numbers before now, but when I see that his is actually the last on the keypad, my heart lodges in my throat.

The top-floor condos are all huge, at a little over three thousand square feet. All have balconies triple the size of mine, along with three bedrooms, four baths, and designer kitchens. When I bought my place, I was shown one of the units, even though it was way more than anything I could afford. I remember walking through the door, wondering why someone would pay so much to live in a building when they could buy a house on the beach for not much more. I should say, I wondered until I saw exactly how luxurious they were.