With the lights up, and without suppressants and trauma numbing him, Gabriel saw that Dr. Alex Anderson was much more than the even white smile and kind, non-judgmental eyes that he remembered from four years earlier. Kindness was not the primary impression that most people would walk away from Dr. Anderson with, if their knees could support them enough to walk at all. Gabriel’s own knees were feeling a little watery.

Dr. Anderson’s face was a masterpiece. A symphony of sculpted, masculine features. There was a jawline that could cut glass and a squared-off chin, both lightly shadowed with evening stubble. He had cheekbones high and prominent enough to create a hollow beneath them. In his day, Gabriel had been a sucker for cheekbones like that. The kind eyes weren’t merely kind. They were also long and dark, tapering downwards at the outer edge. A subtle crease under each eye added a note of approachability that heightened their appeal. His brows were thick and straight, and, currently, one of them rose slightly higher than the other, like he was laughing at himself.  

His face needs a warning label, Gabriel thought, trying to dampen his hammering pulse. He wasn’t even going to look at his colleague’s lips, because that would be unprofessional and objectifying. 

Don’t look, Gabriel. Self-preservation time.

He looked. And immediately wished he hadn’t. The lips were full and deep-set at the corners, with a dreamy finger-width between the shallow peaks of his upper lip. Sigh-worthy.

As a finishing touch, The Face was framed by a gorgeous haircut. Silky black layers were brushed back and away from his forehead and his laser-cut sideburns came to a point just below the enviable cheekbones. When Dr. Anderson turned, Gabriel could see that in the back, the cut was expertly tapered down almost to the skin before finishing in a crisp line. Gabriel couldn’t help the fact that his fingers flexed a little as they imagined brushing over that barely-a-hairline and…

STOP, Gabriel. Stop it now. Take a breath. Be professional.

He was trying. It was just that… out of his scrubs, lab coat, and neon crocs, and in a dark blue v-neck sweater that appeared to have all the touch-beckoning qualities of cashmere, Dr. Anderson was just… Quintessentially gorgeous.

He was tall, too, over six feet, Gabriel estimated, and his broad shoulders tapered to a flat, narrow waist. His perfectly tailored dark trousers flowed lovingly over what a side-view suggested was a truly exceptional ass. Gabriel only let himself glance. 

Professionalism was out the window at that point, but he could still try for some decency.  

Look somewhere safe. Like… his hands. Doctors have healing hands. Beneficial hands. Community-minded hands. That’s what matters. Look at the hands.

Gabriel looked for the hands, but they were mostly concealed by pockets, and the hands were attached to… Oooh, God. The sleeves of Dr. Anderson’s sweater were pushed up to reveal his forearms, where… Aw, man! C’mon!… Golden-tan skin and long muscles laid a trap for thirsty eyes. 

Suddenly, Gabriel remembered that one of those toned forearms had a little white cat scratch scar on it. How had he remembered the cat scratch and not the arm itself? Was that a vein standing out a little beneath the skin above his wrist?

Look at that wrist bone. Unnf. Okay, abandon the hands immediately. Abort! Abort!

He blinked and made himself look back up at The Face, which now paradoxically felt like the safest piece of a very dangerous whole. There were probably better and worse places to look. He searched for a benign spot where he could rest his eyes if he ended up speaking with his colleague and former surgeon at some point. 

The forehead. The forehead was safe. It was just a forehead.

Gabriel rested his eyes lightly on the center of that very nice but not especially seductive forehead and tried to leave his gaze slightly unfocused, so that he wouldn’t find anything else he wanted to stare at fixedly like a maniac. Or, worse, touch.

Then Dr. Anderson smiled so widely at him that Gabriel could see the points of his canines. There were those even, white teeth (were the teeth evener and whiter now?) that Gabriel remembered. His gaze slipped.

The teeth. Of all the things to remember. The teeth! God, I was clearly mentally incapacitated. Poor baby. I want to go back and hug me.

Along with the wide smile came an audacious set of crinkles at the corners of his eyes that tempered the inhuman perfection of the man’s appearance in a way that made things worse instead of better.  

How very dare he. There’s a German word for making things worse instead of better…

Dr. Anderson’s hand suddenly left its pocket and rose, giving him a small wave. Gabriel jumped a good inch. Was he busted? Had he waved because Gabriel had been staring at him for such a long time? Surely he was used to people staring, though? How long was I staring?!

Gabriel prayed that he’d leered for fewer seconds than it had felt like.

Could it just be a normal hello wave? 

There was no way to know.

Gabriel returned the wave, tamping down a whisper of mortification. Fortunately, unlooked-for help arrived—he had to turn to shake a hand being offered by a board member at his elbow. It was a relief to look away, honestly. Staring at Alex Anderson was like staring into the sun.

Once upon a time, by the time he’d looked away, Gabriel would have been naming their future babies in his head. Thank God he was past all that. Now he was a cool, detached Omega who didn’t date and who was harder to impress than Shania Twain.

I’m fine. I just have a good aesthetic sense, that’s all. It was a weird moment, but I’m totally over it.

Except for the ringing in his ears.

Victoria spoke again, and Gabriel turned in her direction. She gestured towards the door. “Everyone, we have a cake that I’ve brought to celebrate Mr. Cooper’s arrival, if you’d like to stay and try a slice.”

Someone wheeled in a linen-covered cart loaded with plates and some kind of exotic chocolate and edible-gold fantasy dessert. It looked like the groom’s cake that Louis XIV would have ordered for himself, writing “Extra Baroque!!” on the order slip and underlining it twice.

It was stunning. Edible art. People clapped.

“Victoria! You baked!” a delighted female voice called out from somewhere to Gabriel’s left.

That was a joke, right? She didn’t actually make that?

Gabriel looked down expecting to see Victoria sending out a friendly “Oh, you shady bitch, we both know this came from a bakery, and you’re spilling the tea” glare at the woman who’d spoken. Instead, he saw a humble smile and a dismissive brush of her hand. 

“I had some extra time last night. I just hope it tastes good, that’s all.” 

Gabriel’s jaw dropped slightly. She had made the Versailles of cakes? How was she possible? The woman was a total enigma. A beautiful, terrible riddle. Did he want to be her? Did he want to be with her? Did he just want to throw himself at her feet as a sacrifice?

Victoria cut the first slice of cake, a perfect wedge, of course, and handed it to Gabriel on a small porcelain plate along with a silver dessert fork that had a scrolled "A" stamped into the handle. 

Had she not only made the cake but supplied enough fine china and engraved forks for a small crowd?

Where am I? Is this the afterlife?

Dr. Anderson strolled up to stand next to his mother, rubbing his hands together in anticipation—and Ope. The hands weren’t safe, either.

Very sexy hands. Back to the forehead!

He was grinning broadly now. “Mom? Cake?” Victoria gave him a line-skipper’s due dose of side-eye, but she handed him the next slice. 

He moved out of the way and came to stand next to Gabriel, who suddenly became very interested in his slice of cake. Despite the visual temptation of Alex Anderson, interest in the cake wasn’t actually hard to summon. It looked even more amazing up close, and now Gabriel could smell the rich, dark chocolate, too. Was there a hint of coffee? His mouth was watering.

Dr. Anderson moved a little closer, but not too close, and smiled tentatively down at him. For the first time, Gabriel picked up his scent. It was clean and bracing, like rain and ozone. It suited him, and it tickled Gabriel’s scent receptors pleasantly. He reached up to rub the bridge of his nose and then realized it was a strange thing to do. He forced his hand back down and smiled self-consciously, hoping that his COLLEAGUE had thought nothing of it. 

Dr. Anderson smiled back again, and Gabriel almost thought he looked a little… Nervous?

Why’s he nervous?

Oh.

Oh, damn.

Gabriel suddenly realized that the poor guy was in a very awkward position. If he did remember Gabriel, Dr. Anderson couldn’t be the first to acknowledge that Gabriel had once been a patient, especially not in a public space. If he didn’t remember him, Gabriel’s long stare had probably given him some sense that he was supposed to remember Gabriel. 

Yikes. Poor guy.

The only way out was through. Gabriel took a breath, put down his fork, and held out his free hand. “Dr. Anderson, I’ve been looking forward to seeing you again. I’m Gabriel. I was actually a claim-reversal patient of yours about four years ago. I’m sure you don’t remember.”

Dr. Anderson took his hand in a warm, firm grasp. “I remember. We talked about my cat.” He added a little squeeze and then released Gabriel’s hand.

Was the hand squeeze an Anderson family thing? Was the whole family dangerous to mortals?

To his credit, Gabriel did not immediately look down at the released hand to see if it was luminescent and glittery after contact with an Anderson.

“Stoffel!” Gabriel remembered, surprising himself. It had been a perfect name for a bad little kitten. Stoffel wouldn't be a kitten anymore, though.

She must be a full-fledged cat-badger by now.

Dr. Anderson beamed. “You remember her name! See, that’s why you earned my teeniest stitches ever.” Reflexively, Gabriel reached up and brushed his fingers over the perfectly smooth area where the claim bite had been. Dr. Anderson really was great at his job, and that really was what mattered most of all.

Gabriel smiled at him gratefully.

Alex smiled back, his charm levels climbing.

The shared smile chased away the last of Gabriel’s awkwardness.

Dr. Anderson shook his head. “Please call me Alex! We’re colleagues now! So, you seem to be doing incredibly well for yourself. Everyone has been very excited that you’re joining the team. Mom in particular seems to love you. She went hard on that cake.”

Gabriel made a Naaah face and brushed off the compliment. “I’ve been doing alright. Much better than when we met, that’s for sure. No one’s more excited about me being here than me, though!”

Alex gave him a skeptical look. “It’s not a competition, but if it was, my mom would win. She never loses.”

“Okay, well, as for your mom, I just met her, but I think I love her, too. Like… real love. I mean, she seems… miraculous. You should see what she left in my apartment!”

Alex’s eye crinkles deepened, forcing Gabriel to swallow hard before continuing, “…She practically whisked me into town on a magic carpet—They wouldn’t even let me carry a box! Then she delivered me straight into my dream apartment and the perfect job with all these fantastic colleagues. Now I’m about to take a bite of cake that, I assume, is filled with a distillation of unicorn tears, going by the smell. So yes, I love your mother and things are actually much better than alright.” 

He took his first bite of cake to shut himself up, and a moan escaped before he could stop it. He covered his mouth with his fingers and spoke around the bite of cake. “Oh my god. I was right. Filled with conflict-free diamond-encrusted distilled unicorn tears that are somehow also dark chocolate mousse. And there’s coffee.”

Dr. Anderson… Alex… laughed at him, which he deserved.

Then, very seriously, Alex said, “As long as they’re conflict-free diamonds! Cake aside, it’s hard to imagine doing better than you are. Coming back here, guns blazing, ready to help other Omegas. In order to do that, you put yourself through a hell of a wringer out there in Berkeley. I gave a report at the meeting where they went over your resumé, and it was pretty mind-blowing. You couldn’t have had much time left over for R&R.”

Gabriel shrugged sheepishly. Alex was correct. He had not had much time for a personal life.

“So, if anyone in this room is miraculous, I’d say it’s you, all things considered. Although... Yes, my mother is worshipped as a minor goddess in some circles.”

Gabriel felt himself turn beet red from the compliments paired with The Face.

Unfair advantage. Do less, Anderson.

Gabriel needed to move the conversation into safer waters so his blood would flow normally. He decided to address the point he’d actually been planning to talk to… Alex… about soon anyway. 

He returned the compliment to its source. “I don’t know about miraculous, but you and the rest of the clinic staff can take a lot of the credit for how well I do in life. I’m actually feeling lucky that we’ve run into each other tonight—I was planning to drop by the clinic soon to see everyone, and to thank you all again, and to learn more about how I can partner the legal fund with the clinic. It’s really important that our office and the clinic stay in close contact. An Omega could come to either office first, but may need to come to the other immediately after. I want to facilitate those transitions for clients however I can, and I also want to make sure we’re focusing our efforts on your needs.”

Alex nodded enthusiastically. “That sounds amazing, actually. I was also hoping that we—our offices—could work together closely.” 

He shoveled a bite of cake into his mouth and then set down his plate, swallowing. “And, by the way, I accept exactly one thank you per patient post-treatment, and that one back there was yours. We were all so glad that we could help you. Teneisha still talks about you and your red curls sometimes. I think you might be the reason she was a redhead for six months a couple years back.”

Alex cocked his head and gave Gabriel a quizzical smile. "I can’t believe you thought I wouldn’t remember you–I remember all of my patients, some more vividly than others… But especially the ones who laugh at my cat stories.”