Chapter 29

Elara

I had to turn away first, my shoulders shaking as I tried to hide my laughter.

The image of the stern Alpha Alaric, with butterfly clips in his hair and streaks of sparkly makeup on his cheeks, was too much to handle.

I pressed my hand against my mouth, stifling the giggles that were threatening to burst out of me. This was priceless, and the look on Grace’s face made it even better. She was stunned into silence, her face even redder than her son’s and her mouth hanging open, as if someone had just told her the moon was made of cheese.

Zoe and Ella continued to grin, clearly pleased with their work.

Alaric clearly wasn’t expecting us home so early. He jumped up, wiping at his face with the back of his hand as if to remove the makeup, but it just smeared across his face.

“The girls,” he muttered, “they wanted to play Pretty Princesses and… they tricked me into it.” He tried to remove the butterfly clips, but the sparkles refused to come off as easily. A streak of glitter clung stubbornly to his jawline.

Grace finally found her voice. “What is this nonsense? Men don’t wear makeup!” she hissed, marching over to him. She grabbed a napkin from the nearby table and began to furiously scrub at his face. “You’re an Alpha!” she snapped. “Not some… some painted doll!”

Alaric looked like he wanted to curl up and die, but before Grace could actually scratch his skin off, I stepped closer. I reached out, catching Alaric’s eye before lifting my hand.

“Wait,” I said softly. “That’s not how makeup works. It won’t come off by scrubbing his skin into oblivion.

Grace gave me a withering look, but I ignored her. Instead, I leaned in and took my thumb, gently licking the tip, and used it to wipe away some of the glitter from his cheek.

Alaric stiffened at the contact, but didn’t pull away. “There,” I murmured, removing some of the stubborn sparkles with another swipe of my thumb, “see? It’s coming off more easily now.”

He stood still, letting me help him. I risked a glance at his eyes, and despite myself, I felt my breath catch when I saw that they were slightly softer than usual.

I offered a small smile. “I think it’s nice that you played with the girls,” I said gently. “Look how happy they are.”

We both turned to see Ella and Zoe in the background, dressed in their little princess gowns, twirling and giggling.

When Alaric turned back to me, I saw something unspoken flicker in his eyes. I couldn’t quite read it, but whatever it was, it was something that made my heart do a tiny flip. His gaze drifted to my hair next, lingering on the new style for a moment, before it traveled back to my eyes.

If I didn’t know better, I would have thought that his gaze moved down to my lips for the briefest of moments.

Grace’s enraged huff in the background eventually shattered the silence between us. She grumbled angrily under her breath, crossing her arms and tapping her foot impatiently. Sighing, I finished wiping the rest of the sparkles from Alaric’s face with a damp cloth, then stepped back once I was done.

“There… all clean,” I said, clearing my throat.

Alaric gave a curt nod. But before either of us could say something else, Grace stepped forward. “It’s time for dinner,” she snapped.

I glanced at the clock and realized that we had spent more time than I thought at the hair salon, and it was indeed almost dinner time.

“I’ll prepare dinner,” I offered immediately, honestly just wanting to get away from Grace for a little while. I headed toward the kitchen without waiting for her to object.

Once in the kitchen, I rolled up my sleeves and started pulling out ingredients for chicken parmesan. The girls, still wearing their tutus and crowns, followed me in, tugging at my clothes.

“Can we help, Mommy?” Zoe asked.

“Of course,” I said, beaming at them. “Here, put on these aprons.” I pulled out two small aprons from a drawer and helped the girls put them on.

After that, I showed them how to wash vegetables, measure the bread crumbs, and stir the sauce. They ended up splattering pasta sauce all over their aprons, giggling madly each time a little red dot appeared. The kitchen sounded like laughter and smelled like garlic and fresh herbs.

Grace hovered near the doorway, her arms folded tightly across her chest as always. “They’re getting dirty,” she said disapprovingly.

Zoe stuck her tongue out slightly in concentration as she tried to shape a meatball, and Ella hummed as she sprinkled the cheese onto the chicken cutlets. I pretended not to hear Grace’s complaint. But then Alaric stepped in, quietly joining us.

“They’re wearing aprons, Mother,” Alaric said, fastening one around himself calmly. “They’re made to get dirty.”

Grace drew herself up, clearly offended. “An Alpha, cooking in the kitchen! I’d expect this from your lowly Omega wife, but you? You should be resting!”

I bristled at that ‘lowly Omega wife’ comment, but before I could speak, Alaric swatted Grace’s hand away as she tried to remove his apron. “Sit down,” he simply ordered her, making me and even the girls look up with surprise.

Grace jerked her hand back, clearly not expecting this kind of resistance from her own son. She hesitated, glaring daggers at everyone. But when Alaric’s stare didn’t waver, she reluctantly plopped into a chair, thoroughly chastised.

I exchanged a brief, incredulous glance with Alaric. He looked away quickly, focusing on cutting bread for the bruschetta, but I couldn’t help a secret smile as I turned back to the stove.

With everyone’s help—aside from Grace, of course, since it was ‘below’ her—dinner came together quickly. Chicken parmesan, some grilled vegetables, crunchy bruschetta, and a simple salad. It was a meal I had made hundreds of times for Zoe in the past, and it was one of her favorites.

By the time the meal was ready, my feet were aching from running around all day. The girls had smudges of flour on their cheeks, and I had a bit of tomato sauce on my forearm, but I didn’t care to tell anyone to change their clothes or clean up other than washing their hands.

Finally, we set the table and sat down. Grace was annoyed, claiming that I should’ve taken the girls upstairs to change into fresh outfits. “A woman should have a different outfit for every meal,” she huffed, glaring pointedly at the children’s sauce-stained aprons.

I shrugged as I arranged the chicken cutlets on the girls’ plates. “We’re hungry, and who wants to eat cold food?” I said simply, not even meeting Grace’s eyes.

“Yuck! Not me!” the girls chimed together with mischievous grins, digging into their meal as soon as they sat down. They clearly didn’t think much of Grace’s fashion standards. Alaric just sat at the head of the table and quietly sipped his red wine, eyeing the food hungrily. If he didn’t care, then I didn’t, either.

As the girls began to eat, giggling and chattering about their day with their mouths full, their small hands reaching for their cups of milk, Grace just stared at them, her knuckles whitening on the edge of the table.

She’d lost so many little battles today, and it seemed as though she had lost yet another. I stayed quiet, picking at my vegetables with my fork and occasionally glancing up at her through my lashes. Her face seemed to get even redder by the second.

Finally, when Zoe reached across the table to grab the parmesan cheese, Grace seemed to snap. She hit her hands against the table, jumping out of her seat.

“Where are your manners?!” she shrieked.

The table fell silent.