Omega Teacher’s Secret

Right, Gwen?”
Gwen nodded, her eyes growing round when the waiter set down a full menu in front of her—like Brad had asked.
Ian and his daughter took some time, just flipping through the menu. “There are a lot more choices than I expected,” Ian murmured, his eyes glued to the chicken dishes. He read the descriptions, then glanced at the other side of the page. “I can’t find the prices.”
Brad rolled his eyes. “Seriously, professor.”
Ian laughed. “Maybe I prefer when you call me that,” he said.
But Brad was starting to think of him as Ian—it was so much more intimate. And it fitted better, because that was twice they’d fucked, now.
Before Brad could reach over for Ian’s hand, Gwen looked up.
“What’s ‘aw gra-teen’?” she asked.
“Au gratin,” Ian said. “It means it’s sprinkled with breadcrumbs or cheese, or sometimes there’s both. Is that something you want?”
Gwen hummed, looking thoughtfully down at the menu. “I’m trying to find the turkey. There’s so many words I don’t understand.”
“Let’s look for it,” Ian said, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.
Brad exhaled. Thought about being on the receiving end of that kiss.
Ian looked over, raising his eyebrows. “Are you done looking at the menu?”
Brad shrugged. “Yeah. I’ve been here a couple times. The turkey’s on the page behind the chicken. Specialty fowl.”
“I see.”
Ian flipped Gwen’s menu for her. “Can you find it?”
Gwen scrutinized the menu, then she yelped and pointed. “I did!”
“That’s great.” Ian grinned. “Want to read it together?”
Gwen nodded fervently.
Together, they read, “A succulent feast of roast turkey breast and thigh, marinated in orange and raspberry, served with a side of crispy fried potatoes and baby bella mushrooms.”
Gwen stumbled on a couple of the words. Patiently, Ian corrected her pronunciations. Then they read the words over again, Ian slowing down to match Gwen’s pace.
They looked as though they were in a world of their own, and for a moment, Brad felt awkward. Like he didn’t truly belong with Ian and his daughter.
Wasn’t sure what he’d been thinking, asking them out. It wasn’t like he knew how to be a dad. Or if Ian would even let Brad into his life.
It’s not like he’s come out and said the baby’s mine.
But Brad looked at Gwen again, really focused on her eyes. How many people out there had honey-brown eyes like his own? There were some. Not few, but not many, either. How many brown-eyed alphas had Ian slept with?
What if she’s my daughter?
It would explain Ian letting Brad closer to his daughter than Brad thought he would.
Brad’s heart thumped. Wasn’t sure how to deal with that information.
And maybe it was a good thing Ian hadn’t told Brad who had fathered his kids, because Brad wasn’t prepared to be a dad. Gods knew his own father was strict, overbearing. Would Brad become an asshole like his dad?
Ian looked up, meeting his eyes. “I’m sorry—did you mind that?”
Brad shrugged. Why are you asking me? “Do what you want. I don’t mind.”
Ian smiled, relief darting through his eyes. Then he glanced at the menu, and hesitated. He was probably worried about the price again.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Brad said dryly.
Ian gave a half-smile, looking back at the menu. “You truly don’t mind which dishes we order?”
“Nah, I don’t.”
“Even a couple glasses of Merlot?” Ian grinned.
“You sure you want booze?” Brad asked. Glanced down, at where the table hid Ian’s belly.
Ian cradled his abdomen, like how some expecting omegas did. “No, I was kidding.”
So he wanted the baby, then. It made something in Brad growl. Despite his doubts about being a dad, he wanted to know whose it was. Wanted to know who else had taken Ian for themselves.
He glanced at Gwen. Wasn’t the right time to be talking about babies—wasn’t sure what Ian was comfortable with Gwen hearing.
“I think I’d like to try the duck confit,” Ian said, almost bashful. “What about you?”
“The meatball stew,” Brad said. “My favorite thing here. It’s better than it sounds.”
“I thought you’ve only been here a couple times.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve tried some of the things my parents had,” Brad said.
Ian winced, looking around. Brad had glanced at the other patrons while they were being seated—his father wasn’t anywhere in the first story of the Apex.
“Hey, stop worrying,” Brad said, catching Ian’s hand. He stroked his thumb across the back of Ian’s hand, and Ian breathed out, his shoulders sagging.
“Sorry.” Ian grimaced. “I can’t help it.”
Gwen peered worriedly up at him. “Are you okay, Daddy?”
“I will be.” Ian angled a crooked smile at her.
The waiter came by to take their orders. Then he left, and Ian watched the waiter apprehensively.
“Now, it’s going to be a lot of food for you,” Ian said to Gwen. “Save some for tomorrow, okay? And maybe the day after, too. Think of it as a day-after-Christmas dinner.”
Gwen wriggled in her seat. “I will! I love turkey dinners.”
“Yeah?” Brad asked. “When was the last time you had some?”
“A long time ago.” Gwen scrunched her nose.
“Last Christmas,” Ian said, chuckling. “That is a long time, though.”
“Where were you last Christmas?” Brad asked Ian. Watched as Ian opened his mouth, then closed it.
“The hospital,” Ian said, his shoulders sagging. He managed a smile, though. “Gwen had to go to the ER after Christmas dinner.”
Gwen shook her head. “It was bad.”
Before Brad could ask about the hospital, Ian waved the waiter over. “Can we have a coloring sheet, if you have some?”
The waiter nodded, returning with a sheet and a box of crayons. Gwen cheered and began to color. Ian watched her, a shadow in his eyes.
Brad hesitated. He hadn’t really thought about it, but it seemed as though Ian had been alone the whole time he had Gwen. Had he raised her by himself? What sort of hell had he been through, being a single dad?
“You had an alpha at all these few years?” Brad asked quietly.
Ian looked up in surprise. Then he shrugged, glancing at his daughter. “Not really. But that’s fine. We managed.”
Brad had heard