Pregnant With Alpha’s Genius Twins

#Chapter 54 – Nothing to Wear

Six days later, Victor’s house is in complete chaos.

The boys and I enter the kitchen door to a flurry of action – Betas everywhere, of course – some on

guard, some carrying boxes and taking instructions. Then, there are a bevy of hired persons hanging

lights in the back yard, decorations in the house. Everything is all in white, like a human wedding. But

for the wolves, it’s the color of unity, of family, of births and deaths and claiming.

I raise my eyebrows as I press the door closed. “Don’t you two go anywhere,” Amelia says, pointing a

pencil at the boys as they dash past, a clipboard propped against her slim hip. “We need you for final

fittings of your suits.” She consults her list. “And for consultation with the makeup artist.”

The boys promptly ignore her and run up to their room.

“Makeup?” I say, coming over to the kitchen island where she has set up her command station. “Isn’t

that a bit much?”

She rolls her eyes at me. “Just a little powder, Evelyn. To keep them from shining on the TV cameras,

obviously.”

“Oh, obviously,” I say, dismissive. Whatever. She can cover them in white like a powdered cake for all I

care.

Victor comes into the kitchen then, talking with his own force of Betas. I notice that I recognize more

faces than I used to and wonder, passively, if it’s because I’ve gotten used to them? Or because, for

some reason, Victor is using the same ones in the same positions. This isn’t his usual style – he likes

to have the Betas perform all the jobs in a cycle, to “keep them fresh.” I shrug, dismissing this as well.

Again, not my problem.

“Ah, Evelyn,” Victor says, coming over to me. “I’m glad you’re here. Did you bring the boys?”

I nod and smile at him, pointing upwards to indicate that they’ve gone upstairs.

“Good,” he says. He turns to the Beta standing at his left elbow. “Will you send the tailor up to measure

them? Send two Betas along – the tailor is a relative unknown.”

Part of me is pleased to see Victor taking such precautions, but another part knows it’s overkill. After

all, he’s going to broadcast their faces to the nation tomorrow afternoon. Protecting them from a tailor

seems to be protecting the mole hill and leaving the castle unguarded. Still, I don’t fight it and the Betas

peel away, off to their tasks.

“And how is your outfit coming?” Victor says, leaning on the island, looking me up and down. Part of

me wonders if he isn’t taking a little long with that look, and I smirk.

“My outfit?” I ask. “I’m just wearing my blue dress,” I shrug my left shoulder, not thinking it important.

“I’ve had it dry cleaned, it should be good to go.”

“What?” Victor focuses his gaze on me, suddenly intense. “Your blue dress? You’re supposed to be in

white.”

“Huh?” I peer back at him. “White? For what?” I’m just going to be standing in the background with

everyone else – I don’t need to be in ceremonial white.

He spins to Amelia. “Amelia, what’s happening here? Why is Evelyn planning to wear blue?”

“I don’t know,” she says, looking down at her clipboard. “She was told over a week ago to plan to wear

white. She was sent several options via email.”

I turn my attention back to Victor. “I swear to god,” I say earnestly, “I was never told anything about this.

I don’t have a white dress. And why do I need to wear white, anyway? I’m not part of this.”

“Of course you’re part of this,” Victor says, frowning at me. “You’re their mother – you’re –“

“But I’m not signing any –“

“Evelyn,” he says, silencing me with a wave of his hand, “it’s important that we come across as a united

front, as a family – all of us together –“

Over Victor’s shoulder I see Amelia lift her head up from her clip board, her lips quirked in a nasty little

smirk.

“God damnit, Amelia,” I say, pushing Victor to get past him.

“What!?” She says, her face suddenly perfectly innocent.

Victor holds me back, checking my urge to wipe her face clean with the palm of my hand.

“Victor, she did it on purpose!” I yell.

“I didn’t!” She whines, willing her mouth into a sorrowful pout. “I sent everything along! I swear I did!”

“GIRLS.” Victor booms out, spreading his hands between us. “What happened is inconsequential.”

“Like hell it is –“ I growl.

“What matters,” he continues, fixing me with a dark glare. I settle down. “Is what we do next. Now, how

soon can we get Evelyn an appropriate dress? The tailor is upstairs, surely –“

“It’s absolutely impossible,” Amelia murmurs. I can hear the smugness in her voice. “It’s a Friday night

– no one worth anything will take an order now.”

“Fine,” I say, clenching my teeth and looking her up and down. God, how I wish to tear her to bits in this

moment. I don’t even want to wear white to this stupid ceremony, but if Amelia wants me out of it so

bad, I’m determined to make it happen.

I turn on my heel and stalk to their dining room. “What are you doing?” Amelia calls after me, a little

panic in her voice. I can hear Victor following me behind, his footsteps measured and curious.

In the room, I wrap my hands in two fists worth of fine linen-and-lace tablecloth, an heirloom, I know – a

gift from Amelia’s grandmother. As hard as I can, I yank it, sending crystal candlesticks cascading to

the ground as the fabric yields and slides off the table.

“My candlesticks!” Amelia screams, rushing into the room. Victor holds her back this time. “You can’t

have that –“ she screams, “that’s mine –“

“Let her have it, Amelia,” Victor says, and I can hear the amusement in his voice. “It’s just a bit of cloth.”

“It’s my –“

“If I’m going to work this into something presentable,” I say, speaking loud to overshadow her. “I’m

going to need to get started right away.” I move past them, smug, heading for the back door.

“Can you sew, Evelyn?” Victor asks, genuinely curious.

I toss him a look over my shoulder. “Do you think I raised two toddlers alone on a graduate student

budget and never learned to sew? Come on, Victor.”

I hear him snort a laugh as I head out the back door.

As I stomp across the back yard, I’m pleased to see that Edgar is sitting on my back porch, apparently

waiting for me. I’m still steamed, but I know he’ll make me feel better.

I skip up the steps and plop into his lap, making him laugh. “Welcome home, gorgeous,” he says,

wrapping his arms around me and kissing my hair, taking a deep sniff as he does.

“It’s good to see you,” I say, smiling and combing my fingers through his own lovely hair. “Any reason

for the visit?”

“Nope.” He lifts his head and smiles at me. “Just wanted to see you. What’s this?” He picks at the ball

of fabric in my hand.

“It’s Amelia’s,” I say, narrowing my eyes. “It’s her precious tablecloth, from her grandmother. But she

forgot to tell me to wear white tomorrow, to the ceremony, and this was the only white fabric left in the

house, so I’m going to be forced to cut it into little tiny pieces and piece them back together into

something fabulous.”

I expect Edgar to laugh and am surprised to see him frowning instead. “What?” I ask.

“Isn’t that a little cruel, Evelyn?”

“Edgar,” I say, scoffing. “She was cruel first. She’s been such a b***h lately and –“

“Evelyn,” he says, shaking his head. “What are you talking about? So what if she forgot to order you a

dress – it was just a simple mistake –“

“It so wasn’t, Edgar,” I say, shaking my head. “It’s thing after thing – and after what she did with my

father –“

“With your father?” Edgar says, suddenly stiff with surprise. I bite my lip, realizing that I hadn’t told him

about that. Not yet, at least.

“Um,” I say, hesitating, buying time as I rack my brain for something to say.

“Evelyn,” he says, pulling back from me a little bit, his face suddenly stern. “What happened between

Amelia and your father?”

“Um,” I continue, “it’s just that…” I fade off here and look away, trying to decide what to say. But

something, deep down, urges me to keep my secrets – to keep Victor’s, too.

“Fine,” he says, moving me off his lap and standing up. I look back to him and see that his face is

devastated.

“Edgar,” I say, “it’s nothing – really –“

“You haven’t said a word to me about your family, Evelyn. So I know that it’s bad. But now, something is

coming up – something that’s apparently really affecting your life, and your relationship with Amelia,

and thus with Victor, and you won’t even tell me about it.”

He brushes his hand through his hair, frustrated, looking off into the distance towards the big house. “I

thought…I thought we were closer than that,” he says, his voice wondering and surprised, as if he’s just

figuring out something deeply important and true. “But I guess…it’s just been me sharing my life. And

you holding back.”

With that, he starts down my back steps.

“Edgar,” I say, reaching out for him, following him a few steps. “Edgar come back –“

“Evelyn,” he says, turning, his voice hurt. “We’re clearly not in the same place, emotionally. I thought

we were people who could tell each other everything.” He shakes his head again, disappointed. “But I

guess that we’re not. You need to figure out what you want.”

With that, he walks away. I let him go, watching after him, thinking about the truth of his words. What

are Edgar and I, really, if I can’t confide in him?

Why did I hold back?