I was an impatient child. Whenever there was a big day coming up, I would get antsy as early as a week before. I could never sleep the night before a birthday, or a holiday. I remember my dad using it to explain relativity to me, how time seemed to fly when you were having fun, and slow down to a crawl when you were anticipating something.

The night before my official giving away, as Jess was calling it, felt a lot like that, like so many Christmas eves. I lay on her couch staring at the ceiling, knowing I was not going to be able to sleep. Earlier, we had finally finished moving my things over to her place, as I had moved out of my place. The greater majority of my worldly possessions was crammed away in her basement, stowed safely away for when I would return. If I would return.

It had been difficult deciding what went and what stayed. On the one hand, I was starting a new life, so I would not need any of my old things, besides photos and mementos. Plus, Saul was a billionaire, so I was sure I wouldn’t need any of it. But there was also the off chance it would not work out as I was assuming it would. Maybe it would fall apart, and I would be forced to move back here and pick up the remnants of my life from that motley collection of belongings.

And so I ended up taking only my clothes. The rest was packed away in boxes. And wasn’t it fun, seeing your life fit neatly into a few boxes.

It must have been around 3 a.m. My eyes were raw from staring into nothingness, the only light coming from a flickering street lamp just outside the window of the tiny apartment. I considered texting Saul something cheeky, as I had been doing all week, but I reasoned he was probably already asleep. Besides, he had not returned my call yet, so I did not want to rush things.

The lights flicked on suddenly, and Jess stood in the doorway in her pajamas. She looked groggy, like she had just woken up.

“Can’t sleep, huh?” she asked.

She plodded into the living room, walked over to the couch and pushed my feet away to make room for her to sit.

She rubbed her eyes and looked at me, scrunching up her face like she was seeing double.

“Wanna talk about it?” she asked.

“What do you mean?” I said. “Talk about what?”

“Well, you’re clearly worried about tomorrow. You need any help obsessing over it?”

“I’m not worried, Jess. Not really. Excited? Sure. Nervous? Maybe slightly. But not worried, no.”

She froze suddenly, and then she jumped up off the couch, her eyes going wide as they always did when she got a brainwave.

“I just realized something. We never held a bachelor party for you! Oh, I’m a terrible best friend!”

She dashed off in the direction of the kitchen. I yelled my protests after her, but I knew it was useless. Once she had her mind set on something, there was no deterring her.

She returned a few minutes later, her arms full. Her laptop was peeking out from under her armpit, and she was balancing two glasses and a bottle of what looked like champagne in her hands. I shook my head in amusement.

“Last night of freedom. We’re going to slut it up in here, dude,” she announced.

“You’re insane, woman. How are we even going to do that?”

She shushed me impatiently as she put the things down. Then she danced away, and a few seconds later the sounds of RnB music filled the house. It was a bit loud for 3 a.m., but that’s Jess for you.

She picked up her laptop and typed something on the keyboard, then perched it on the table so we could both see. She had navigated to a porn site, or an erotic site of some sort, because there were suddenly strippers dancing on her screen.

She poured two glasses of champagne and handed one to me.

“Let it not be said I failed in my duty as best friend,” she said.

I laughed, feeling myself slowly begin to relax.

“I’m not sure I should be drinking, though. I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I have a man to impress tomorrow. I need to be on my best behavior.”

“Ah, fuck good behavior. You want to make a good impression, do that.”

She pointed at the screen. One of the strippers had finally taken off his thong, and he was swinging a massive cock around in small circles.

“Ooh, I’ll definitely try that,” I said.

“Come on then.” She lifted her glass. “To a happy marriage.”

We clinked, and I took a swig of the champagne.

“Don’t worry, dude. He’s going to love you.”

Against my more persistent instincts, I decided to visit my dad one last time. I couldn’t bring myself to leave without seeing him properly. I did not want the last memory I had of him to be that of an old man smiling genially at a stranger he did not recognize was his son.

Having thrown my suitcase into the boot of the Beetle, Jessica drove me first to Cranberry Woods. As it was Saturday, most of the resident patients were out in the yard or in the supervised fields behind the main building. I scanned the area, knowing it was where my dad was likeliest to be. He wasn’t on the basketball court or any of the other places I could see. It was strange. Dad loved being out in the open.

Perhaps he was in the middle of another episode, and he had stayed in his room?

But I shouldn’t have worried.

I heard my name being called and turned to see him walking briskly towards me. The relief at his recognition washed over me like a wave. I was so happy to see him I seized him and wrapped him in a bear hug.

“Well, hello to you too,” he said as he came up for air.

“Hey, Dad,” I said.

“Nice of you to visit. I was beginning to wonder if you had forgotten about your old man.”

“I would never.”

“Right. It’s only been a few days.”

He led me to a small wooden bench overlooking the lake and indicated that I sit down. It was very peaceful, just sitting there watching the slow ripples of the lake. The sounds of the people behind us seemed to fade away.

“How are you doing, Dad?” I asked him after some time.

“Never mind me, how are you? How is work?”

“That’s actually what I came to talk to you about. I’m leaving L.A for a little while.”

There was no need to tell him everything. Not really.

“I got a lucrative job offer just out of town, and I think it makes sense to try it out, see if I can pull it off.”

He continued to stare off into the distance. When he looked at me, I was surprised to see how calm he was, as if he had not heard me.

“Have I ever told you the story of your first fashion show?”

He had. Many times. But I shook my head, because I knew he loved telling this story.

“You were about eight. We had just moved here from Long Beach. Our first house was a tiny little flat just outside town, but it was extremely expensive. I don’t know how you knew, but you figured out that money was tight. I hadn’t gotten a job yet, and I was beginning to worry we would have to move back if something didn’t turn up. You decided it was up to you to do something about our situation. You collected all the old clothes in the house, and I don’t even know how, but you jazzed them up, putting together an actual line. I was called into school the next day because you had apparently insisted on holding a fashion show after school. Your thinking being that if you sold enough clothes, we wouldn’t have to move.”

“Maybe I was just trying to impress Marcus Landry, Dad. The cute kid in class?”

“I know what you were trying to do, Kyler. You saw your old man struggling, and you took it upon yourself to help out.”

I fell silent. In truth, the memory of that fashion show was very hazy, but it had meant a lot to my dad and that was all that mattered.

“I know this place is not cheap, Kyler. It’s perfect, which means it’s unbearably expensive.”

“I just want you taken care of, Dad. It doesn’t matter what it costs.”

“Is that why you’re taking the job? Is that why you’re leaving?”

“You know I wouldn’t leave unless I had to. And it’s not like I’ll just disappear and that’s it. I’ll still visit you as often as I can.”

“I understand,” he said. And he smiled to let me know it was okay. “Now, come on. Let me show you the horse I made in pottery class today.”

I spent most of the afternoon with him, not wanting to leave because I knew how much I would miss him. But I was glad for the time we spent, happy that I had at least seen him when he was himself.

Jess’s goodbye was the one that caught me completely off guard, if only because it was more emotional than I had been anticipating. I stood at the airport terminal, suitcase and ticket in hand, and the knowledge that I wouldn’t be seeing her again for a long time filled me with sadness. Her eyes were moist when she hugged me goodbye.

I tried to think of a snarky comment or a sassy retort but there was nothing. So I just stood there staring at her, wanting to cry.

I wanted to tell her how grateful I was for her friendship, how much she meant to me, but the words seemed bland and cliché. I wanted to apologize for the fact that she wouldn’t be able to see me until after Saul had made an honest man out of me. And to offer her an invite to my wedding, if there would be one. You would be my best man, obviously, I wanted to say. You have always been my best man.

But the moment passed.

I reached over to Jess and hugged her again.

“I want details about that wedding night,” she whispered in my ear. “All of them.”

And I knew she meant it.

Saul had arranged to have me picked up. I had been confused at first, until I realized he was sending his private jet to pick me up. From the information I had, he lived somewhere close to Redvale town. I imagined tall men in dark suits literally scooping me up and carrying me all the way to his house, and then dropping me off at his feet.

To my amusement, there were indeed two tall men in dark suits waiting for me on the runway. One of them stepped forward as soon as they saw me and held out a burly hand in greeting.

“Mr. McCormick, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Holy shit, he was referring to me. I turned and tried to heave my suitcase to hide the fact that I was blushing. The other gentleman shook his head and grabbed the bag. He lifted it as easily as he would a rag doll.

“This way please,” the first one said. He led the way and we walked towards a sleek Range Rover. He opened the door of the back seat for me; it was the most beautiful car I’ve ever been in. The seats were made of rich leather, and the floor mats were so thick and clean I was tempted to shake off my shoes.

The gentlemen got into the front seats, reminded me to buckle up, and then we drove off slowly.

We barely drove for ten minutes. Pretty soon, we were pulling into what looked like a private airport.

He had to have been showing off, right? The jet itself was straight out of a spy movie. It looked flashy and elegant, and that was before I stepped into the cabin. That was when it hit me that I was marrying a billionaire. It was like stepping into the tastefully furnished living room of a president’s summer home. Not only was the cabin larger than my living room, it was also decorated with such impeccable detail I was afraid to touch anything. Everything within sight was pearl white. The leather seats were so immaculate I was hesitant to sit down for fear of soiling them. There was a 60-odd inch television right across from me. If ever a plane embodied complete opulence, then it was this one.

I was so comfortable I barely noticed the takeoff. Or the flight. I reclined my seat and switched on the television. I got lost in the documentary I was watching, and was soon drifting off. I must have slept through most of the journey. When I woke up and glanced at my watch, I realized I had been asleep for almost two hours.

I looked out of the window and saw a looming wall of forests in the distance, and further, what looked like the top of a mountain. So it was true? I thought he had been joking when he told me he had retired to the mountains.

We landed on an airstrip just outside Redvale. One of the gentlemen who had helped me onto the plane informed me that we had arrived, and that Mr. McCormick was waiting for me on the tarmac.

My pulse picked up considerably as I walked off the plane. Any anxiety I had experienced prior to this had been a bad joke. My palms were damp and my fingers wouldn’t stop twitching. It took a concerted effort to keep putting one foot in front of the other; the steps seemed to go on and on.

I saw the eyes first.

Saul McCormick strode purposefully towards me, and I couldn’t have looked away from him if I wanted to. Every impression I had gleaned off his photo was amplified tenfold. He was tall, dark and simply delicious. His hair was thick and unruly, but that may have been because of the wind. His beard was fuller than it had looked in the photo, which I was shocked to see made him even more appealing. Thin lips curled upwards from the depths of that beard, and I caught a flash of white.

But God, those eyes. They were jet black and imposing, almost unnervingly so.

I felt like he wasn’t looking at me so much as undressing me with his eyes. They had such an intensity I could not bear to look at him for more than a few seconds. They bore into me, searching me out, awakening sensations I had not known I had. There was a glint there that was definitely sexual. A promise of what was to come, an invitation and a challenge.

And then his scent wafted over to me, and my mind went blank. It was elemental, a heady mixture of cedar and something else, something primal. He smelled like the woods after a storm. Every alpha had their own unique scent, as did every omega, and I definitely loved his. In that moment, I wanted to touch him more than I had ever wanted anything in my life. Every nerve in my body perked up and screamed in desire. I knew I was staring, and I was distantly aware of moving my lips. The word slipped out before I could stop myself.

“Fuck!”

And as that beautiful man stood there wreaking havoc on my body, I couldn’t tell whether it had been an exclamation or a plea.