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“That’s Angel’s job. He’s good at it.”

“Does he wear one of those frilly maid outfits?” She’s teasing now.

I can tell because she sounds like Rhett when he teases me.

But how does she know?

“He owns a black-and-white French maid’s dress.” I quirk my brow. “Rhett bought it for him. I don’t reckon Angel does his best cleaning when he wears it though. He only uses a feather duster and bends over a lot.”

Paige blushes. “Ehm…well…hmm, shall we open this now?”

I nod.

Together, we edge to the end of the brown tape. Then we tear it off with a satisfying ripping sound.

I sit back on my heels.

Excited, Paige pulls open the box.

I peer inside.

A small record player with a wooden casing and turntable sits wedged in the box surrounded by vinyl records in their bright sleeves.

I wrinkle my nose at the musty smell, but my fingers itch to flip through the records.

“This stuff is all Beau’s.” Paige’s eyes glimmer with tears. I can’t tell if they’re happy or sad ones. “This collection was his pride and fucking joy.”

Paige reaches out, ghosting her fingertips over the spines with a concentrated expression. She keeps going with a thup, thup, thup, until she reaches one that makes her stop.

She caresses her finger along the top of the record. “He loved this one. Willie Nelson’s “Stardust.” He said that some music was meant for dancing. This one, however, was meant for holding. The way that he danced with me to this song, I got it.”

I don’t.

But then, I’ve never danced with an Omega.

Paige pulls the record out of the box, releasing a puff of dust. Then she slips the record out of its paper sleeve. The light catches on its black grooves.

She tilts her head to assess me. “I didn’t reckon that I could talk about this. But you’re easy to talk to.”

Surprised, I take a moment to process that.

“Most people,” I arch my brow, “don’t like talking to me at all.”

“Then that’s their problem.”

Maybe I can trust what this Omega says.

Maybe she does accept me.

Happy, I point at the record player. “Want to see if it still works?”

“I’d love to.”

I carefully lift the record player out of the box and then set it down. I glance around for the outlet, finding one low on the attic wall. I untangle the cable at the back of the player and push the plug into it.

The record player turns on with an electrical hum.

I set the player back between Paige and me.