“Is it weird when someone suddenly stops texting you as much?”

Gran turns to hand me a mug, setting it in front of me. “What do you mean?”

“I just . . .” I blow out a breath. “It’s not a big deal or anything, but Noah usually texts me back pretty quickly. Like, annoyingly quick, even, but . . . I don’t know. He’s been sort of radio silent for the last couple of days.”

“Did you two get into a fight?”

“No?” I think back to the last time I saw him. Sure, the whole debacle with him mentioning dinner with his mother and me having a whole-ass moment about it was uncomfortable, but I’d been pretty sure it was only me who had felt that. Noah had seemed oblivious to my inner turmoil. “He said he was tired last night. Maybe he just had a bad day and I’m reading too much into it.”

When I look up again, Gran is beaming, and I sense I’ve said too much.

“Don’t,” I say before she can start.

She shrugs, still smiling. “I’m just saying—it seems like you really like Noah.”

“Well, I . . .” I’m not sure how to navigate this conversation, knowing that Gran thinks this whole thing is real, and I struggle to find the right words. “I mean . . . he’s a nice guy. We get along really well.”

Gran takes a slow sip from her mug, thoughtfully eyeing me over the rim. She makes a satisfied sound when she swallows her coffee, staring at me for a long few seconds as she considers.

Eventually, it makes me squirm. She only gives me this look when she is about to scold me. “What?”

“I’m just wondering how much longer I have to pretend that I don’t know you’ve been trying to pull one over on me.”

My mouth falls open in surprise. “Wha—What do you mean?”

“Mackenzie,” Gran says, not looking upset but instead almost amused. “Have you forgotten that I raised you through the teen years? I might as well have a PhD in reading your lying face.”

I feel at a loss; there’s no way I could have prepared myself to be cornered by five-foot-three Moira Carter. In fact, I had been so certain that we were getting away with it, the possibility of telling her the truth hadn’t even crossed my mind.

“How long have you known?”

“Since you brought him over,” she says matter-of-factly.

I feel myself reeling. “How could you tell?”

“Honey,” she laughs. “The man didn’t even know you were an omega. His eyes got as big as saucers when I mentioned it.”

“I . . . Shit. Why have you let us go on like we have?”

Gran chuckles. “Because I could tell you liked each other. Even if you didn’t know it yet.”

“You could?”

“The both of you were sneaking glances every other second like you couldn’t help it. Seemed like the two of you were so deep in your lie you couldn’t even make out the truth of it.”

I consider that. Sure, at that point there had been attraction between us; I practically begged him up to my apartment that night, after all, but I can’t imagine that there had been anything deeper than that so early on in our ruse, right?

“I don’t know,” I sigh. “It’s still probably way too early to read much into it. We’ve been on one real date.”

“Well, you did spend your heat together.”

I almost spit up the sip of coffee I’ve just taken. “How in the hell do you know that?”

“Oh, Parker told me,” she says casually.

I close my eyes, pressing my lips together. “I’m going to kill him.”

“Oh, hush. He was worried about you. You were so off schedule!”

I rub my temples, having a hard time looking at her now that I know she’s aware I spent a three-day sexcation with Noah only a couple of weeks ago. “It was . . . definitely a surprise.”

“It just means you’re compatible,” Gran says.

I do look at her then. “What do you mean?”

“When two shifters have a high compatibility, it can throw off your heat cycle. The pheromones just affect you a little more.” She scoffs. “Honestly, Mackenzie. You’re a doctor. You should know this.”

“I don’t exactly have shifter compatibility very high on my list of priorities,” I deadpan.

“Well, if you gave anyone a chance,” she chides. “You find something wrong with every person you go on a date with.”

“They weren’t exactly great dates,” I grumble.

“Oh, you just wanted something to be wrong with them.”

“Model train fanatics, Gran!”

“Mackenzie Carter. You can pitch those silly excuses to me all you want, but I’m not buying it.” She sets her mug down on the counter, looking at me sternly. “We both know you’re always looking for things to be wrong with someone, because finding something right with them would mean opening yourself up to something that you can’t control.”

“That’s not true,” I mumble, looking down at my lap.

“Like hell it isn’t,” she huffs. “You’ve done it since you were a kid. Honestly, if Parker hadn’t come along, you probably would have been content to just stay in your room when you weren’t at school.”

“Listen, to be fair, you have set me up on some really bad dates.”

“Have I? Or have you just been looking for reasons to not give anyone a second date?”

“Gran, seriously, there have been some—”

“Mackenzie,” she says, her tone softer now. “I get it. There have been some stinkers. But you’re twenty-nine, and you’ve never been in a relationship that lasted more than a few months at a time. There’s always some flaw or some habit that gets in the way. He snores too much, he watches too much football, he picks his teeth after dinner—”

“Oh, come on, that one is disgusting.”

“I’m just saying,” she stresses. “You always find a reason to end things before they can even start.”

I feel an emotion welling in my chest that seems too heavy, too raw—one that I’ve spent a good portion of my life suppressing. I rub my arm idly as I avert my gaze, knowing that this, too, is something I can’t lie to her about. Not this. She knows me too well.

“It’s not like I mean to,” I say quietly. “It’s not exactly fun being permanently single.”

“I’m not saying that I blame you,” she says, reaching across the counter to cover my hand with hers. “You had to deal with a lot of hard things as a kid. Things that were way too much for someone as young as you were. Your dad . . .” She shakes her head, looking away from me. “He lost a big part of himself when he lost your mom. He couldn’t handle it. I love my son, but he wasn’t the man he should have been. He should have stepped up for you, no matter how much he was hurting.” She looks at me again, her eyes fixed on mine. “But that doesn’t have to be your life. Just because your dad left you hurting doesn’t mean everyone will.” Her eyes start to water, the wrinkles around her mouth deepening as she frowns. “Maybe I should have said all of this to you sooner. Maybe it’s partly my fault.”

“No,” I protest, my voice thick. “Gran. You guys are perfect. You always have been. I just . . . I guess I’ve just been afraid.” I feel a single tear roll down my cheek, and Gran squeezes my hand. “I wasn’t enough for Dad. I couldn’t make him stick around. How in the hell can I expect to be enough for anyone else?”

“Oh, honey.” Gran releases my hand, toddling around the counter to wrap her thin arms around my body. “You are amazing. You’re beautiful and smart and funny—Well, sometimes.”

A watery laugh escapes me, and I snuggle further into her embrace. “I get my sense of humor from you.”

“Yeah, well, you sure as hell don’t get it from your grandfather.”

We both laugh, and she pulls away to look at me, reaching to cup my face in her hand.

“You are enough,” she tells me, her eyes full of emotion. “And then some. Anyone you choose would find themselves damn lucky.”

I choke out a sound that is a mix of a sob and a broken laugh, reaching to wipe the tears from my eyes that feel both painful and somehow good. Cathartic, even. I’ve spent so long pretending none of this bothers me . . . it feels like a weight has been lifted off now that I can finally admit it always did.