A Mate for Lu - Amy Bellows Page 0,1

table. I probably shouldn’t get my hopes up.

“I, uh, made some lunch? Since it’s noon?” I like to cook for Sam, but I know it makes him uncomfortable. In penguin shifter culture, mated alphas won’t eat food cooked by an omega who isn’t their mate unless they’re at a restaurant or party. They consider it to be a type of infidelity.

Sam stares at me for a few minutes in indecision.

“It’s just a little salmon and greens,” I say as casually as possible. Even though the cost of the collard greens for all six of us was something that took me weeks to save for. Mary and I rarely eat fresh vegetables in the winter. It’s too expensive.

“You’re very kind, but we shouldn’t.” He turns to watch his children playing in my living room. Every time he accepts food from me, he always looks at them first, as if he’s worried what they’ll think of him. He sighs. “We should be going anyway.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just that this is the last time we’ll be meeting, and I thought it might be nice.” I’m such a fool. What did I expect would happen? That Sam would magically fall in love with me, when he’s clearly never going to date again? I always want men who don’t want me back.

I walk over to the oven. It’s set to warm. The food I made for Sam and his children is waiting inside, on the off-chance he’d be willing to join us for lunch. I turn it off.

“Lu, you don’t have to apologize. I’m the one who should be sorry. Of course we’ll eat with you. I always forget things like that are different in your culture.”

I hate the way my heart races at the idea of him joining us for lunch. Maybe it’s good that we won’t see each other anymore. Then I can start mooning over another man I can’t have.

But it was nice to moon over a good man for a change. Not a bad boy in a motorcycle jacket or a factory welder who drinks away his money, but the kind of man who loved his mate so much, he’s worried about accepting lunch from another omega even though he’s been a widower for over four years.

“Thank you, Sam,” I say. “It means a lot to me.”

He swallows hard and scans me the way he scanned my illustration—taking in every detail. I know Sam is just an observant guy. It’s why he’s been so successful as a writer. But I still love it when he observes me.

He drags his eyes away. “Kids, come help Lu set the table. We’re going to eat lunch here.”

The two youngest jump up and rush for the table, talking animatedly to each other. Mary sits contentedly next to Jesse, with a book in her lap. She’s going to miss these meetings too. I’m not the only one who’s grown attached to this sweet family.

I guess all good things come to an end eventually.

2

Sam

Lu pulls out a fully cooked meal from his oven: baked salmon, collard greens, mashed potatoes. It’s exactly the kind of thing that Allen made for us when he was alive.

Lu is different from Allen in every way. Allen was short with round cheeks that were always bright pink from the cold. His body was soft. Cuddling with him after a day’s work was heaven, even though he always worried he wasn’t desirable to me because of his weight. It’s ironic. Far too often, I comfort myself with food when I miss him, and now I’m the one carrying around a few extra pounds.

Lu is tall and thin with a neck like a swan’s and a walk that’s both precise and graceful. Where Allen’s clothes were always bright and fit tightly against his body, Lu wears cream sweaters that swallow his slender frame and baggy jeans that must require a belt to keep up. Allen was friendly and warm. Lu is guarded and skittish. He reminds me of a wild bird sometimes.

And yet my children rush around Lu’s kitchen like it’s our own, laughing and talking to him. Sweet Mary, who has hair as white as her father’s, toddles after them. I’ve never asked where her alpha father is. All I know is that Lu had to take our project slowly because he’s barely making ends meet as a graphic designer on Fiverr. So Mary’s alpha dad must be gone.

Lu’s too talented to be doing work like that.

I help with the plates while the