PROLOGUE
“He hasn’t called yet.”
Jennifer’s voice was steady, but Carmena could hear the faint edge of worry beneath it. She didn’t say much when Timothée first announced—rather dramatically—that he was packing up his life and moving to Melbourne for a year, but Carmena knew. She always knew.
Jennifer was proud, of course, but underneath it all, she worried. A whole ocean between them, their baby off to a city he’d never even visited before, throwing himself into the unknown with nothing but his art, his talent, and that reckless optimism of his.
“You know he’d call the second he finds a place.” Carmena murmured, reaching out to rub Jennifer’s arm.
“I know.” Jennifer sighed, leaning back against the couch. “That’s why I’m worried.”
“Melbourne’s expensive,” Carmena admitted. “And he’s stubborn. He could afford a place, but you know how he is—he’ll want something that ‘feels right.’”
“Which means he’s living out of a suitcase in some overpriced hotel room until then,” Jennifer grumbled.
“It’s not just that,” Carmena said softly. “He’s alone.”
Jennifer didn’t answer, but Carmena saw the muscle in her jaw tighten. Their son had always been independent, always eager to prove himself, and they let him—proudly, supportively.
But he’d never been this far from home before. They trusted him, but the world was unpredictable. Timothée was an omega, and while he had no problem standing his ground, instincts were instincts. There was a reason families worried.
“Maybe it’s fate, then,” Hilda’s voice chimed in through the phone speaker, amused. “Because my son is alone too. In that ridiculous oversized apartment, being all broody and territorial. I swear, I don’t know what I did to deserve an alpha who acts like an old man at thirty.”
Jennifer let out a dry chuckle. “You’re the one who raised him.”
“And yet, he still manages to surprise me,” Hilda said. “He’s not even looking for a tenant, you know? He just hates the idea of sharing his space, won’t even consider it.”
“Typical Alpha nonsense,” Jennifer muttered, rubbing her temples. “They get so dramatic over territory.”
“You’d know,” Hilda shot back playfully.
“Please,” Jennifer scoffed. “I have never been dramatic a day in my life.”
Carmena and Hilda both hummed in the kind of agreement that was not agreement at all.
“All I’m saying,” Hilda continued, “is that maybe our sons need a push. Not a forceful shove, just... a gentle nudge. It’s a big city, but what are the odds? Your son needs a place, mine has a place.”
“You think Alexis will let him in?” Carmena asked, sceptical.
“I think if it’s framed correctly, he won’t have a choice,” Hilda said smoothly. “And Timothée—he wouldn’t say no, would he? Not if it made sense.”
“It’s not about making them do anything,” Carmena reminded them both. “We’re not meddling.”
“Of course not,” Hilda said lightly.
“We’re just... connecting dots that are already there.”
“And if those dots happen to lead somewhere nice?” Jennifer mused, swirling her wine glass. “Well. That’s their business.”
Hilda chuckled. “Exactly. We’re just setting the board. It’s up to them to make the moves.”
And so, with a silent agreement between three mothers who definitely were not meddling, the
game was set.
And somewhere in Melbourne, two unsuspecting men continued their lives, blissfully unaware of the storm heading their way.
