TWENTY
Will
Jane: still on for dinner tonight?
When I don’t answer straight away, she messages again.
Jane: the correct answer is yes or Harry is coming around to get you and bring you here.
I laugh halfheartedly. It’s nice they won’t give up on me. They’re lovely. I just can’t seem to face anything social at the moment. I can’t face much of anything to be perfectly honest.
Ever since Bella.
They mean well, but the pack have been trying to set me up with what feels like every single girl in London, hoping to cheer me up. Or fix me.
Truth is, I don’t think I’m fixable.
I’m not sure I can face another round of awkward questions and gentle nudges. Of shy smiles and pretty, hopeful glances across the table, knowing I’m going to let another one down. Not a single one of them interests me.
Not a single one ever could.
I’d found my fated mate. I just don’t know what to do about the fact that she doesn’t want me.
I’d better message back, though, or Harry will be here any moment.
Will: promise me it’s just us. There’s not another not-blind-date date waiting for me is there?
No reply for a moment.
I cringe. Clearly, there was, and now Jane is trying to find a way to tell me.
Jane: should I tell her we’ve all got the flu? Sorry i thought i was being subtle
I can’t help laughing for real this time.
Will: no sorry.
Will: Yeah do u mind? I just can’t.
“But you’ve got to admit that Rachel was nice, though.” Jane gestures with her wine glass a little too vigorously and a few drops of red wine slosh onto the table.
I nod mournfully. “They were all nice girls, Jane. That’s just it. I don’t want to disappoint anyone. I think we have to face it. I’m broken. A failure. Might as well give up on me.”
Harry claps me on the back. “No. I’ve heard of wolves who get a second chance.”
I look at him. “Really? Who? Tell me. Because I don’t know anyone who gets a second fated mate.”
His mouth flaps open and then closed again. “Yeah, well you got me there, but I could ask around. I bet there’s someone.”
I scoff. “Don’t waste your time. Look. Love isn’t everything. I’ve got my shop and my pack, and a nice house that I can almost afford and a business that sometimes makes a profit.”
They both make encouraging noises.
“And I have a weird lodger to keep me company. I’ll just become an eccentric uncle and quietly wank off into a sock every night,” I finish dismally.
“Listen...” Harry leans forward conspiratorially, even though he’s still speaking at normal volume. “I still do that every day. But don’t tell Jane. I have her convinced her socks went missing in the wash.”
We all laugh. It feels almost good for a moment. Almost like old times. Before Bella.
Only, deep down there’s a heavy feeling I can’t shake. It weighs me down a little more each day. I wonder if I’ll even be able to get out of bed in the morning in ten or twenty years time.
I’ve heard stories of wolves who lost their fated mates or were rejected. None of them end well.
“So no more fix ups?” Jane asks.
“No more fix ups. But will you two have some pups already? I’m sure I have a calling as an embarrassing uncle.”
Jane’s face falls and she looks sideways at Harry giving her the same heartbreakingly sad look.
Oh, shit. I forgot.
All the air suddenly got sucked out of the room along with our laughter.
Jane’s eyes well up. “We had another appointment this week. I’m not sure that’s on the cards.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry. That’s terrible. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“No.” She reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. “You couldn’t have known. It’s not for certain. There’s still a chance. It’s just a very, very small one.”
In the quiet, we all look at each other across the little round table. I wish there was something more I could say, but what is there? It’s desperately sad, but that’s life, isn’t it?
“Well, you know what I say?” Harry raises his glass. “Cheers to very small chances coming through in the end. For us, and for Will and Bella finding each other again. After all, I trust in fate.”
Jane and I touch our glasses with his. “To small chances.”
“To fate.” I say the words, but they’re bitter in my mouth. I’m pretty certain fate has fucked all of us. But that’s just it. It’s fate. What can we do?
We drink.
The night ends, as it often does when I stay up drinking with Jane and Harry, with a hazy run through the early morning streets of London.
I’m still thinking about what Harry said as I run. The benefit of shifting is when I’m in wolf form, I don’t think like a man. I think like a wolf with a tiny trace of human brain buried somewhere deep inside.
My thoughts aren’t clear or concrete. They’re more like vibes.
But underneath all my recent despair there must be some hope left. Because that’s the feeling I have as I dart around dustbins, avoiding bright pools of street lights. Hope.
After all, it’s fate, isn’t it?
Just goes to show you how dumb wolves are.
I groan and wake at the sound of knocking, and reach blindly for the clock on my bedside table. When I find it, I blink at it through bleary eyes and frown as the numbers form into a shape that’s recognizable. Ten thirty-seven.
Who would be at my door on a Sunday morning? Even though Ian has no respect for business hours or personal boundaries, he has a key. He’d just let himself in.
Jane and Harry are likely still in bed if they’re feeling anything like I’m feeling this morning.
Maybe Candy?
But she would have called first. I sit, looking for my phone when the knocking starts again.
With a growl, I haul myself out of bed and find a shirt. It’s an old one, and from the smell, it’s not clean.
Not that it matters.
I’m just going to the door. I hope whoever it is doesn’t mind I’m only wearing boxer shorts under the shirt. I draw the line at scrambling for pants.
Perhaps they’ll just bugger off if I’m too slow.
With this thought in mind, I take my time on the stairs. But when I make it to the kitchen, the knocking comes again. Then it occurs to me it’s coming from the back door, not the front. If they were at the front, they could have just used the bell.
It must be Candy. But why didn’t she call?
I turn into the mud room and see immediately it’s not Candy at all.
The woman on the step is taller than my sister with long dark hair and big round sunglasses covering her eyes. It’s still abundantly clear there’s a movie star knocking on my back door, though, because Bella Owens could be wearing a baseball cap and overalls, and I’d still recognize her. Still be drawn to her. I’d spot the way she moves, tucking a strand of hair behind her left ear. I know why all the paparazzi chase her and the magazines pay all that money for a blurry pic of her getting out of a car or simply sipping a coffee. Because looking at her now, I’d sell my shop and re-mortgage my house to keep on looking forever.
My heart leaps toward her, but I hesitate.
Is this real?
Am I just having a particularly lucid dream? Have I actually started hallucinating?
Bella pulls her sunglasses up onto her head and hits me with a pleading look through the glass door and I can’t stay still any longer.
I rush to the door and open it. “Bella!”
“Can I come in?” Her lip trembles as she stands there looking up at me.
I can’t speak. I can’t think.
Why does she look so sad?
All I want is to have her in my arms, but I don’t know how to bridge the gap of all these months between us.
Thankfully, she’s better at this than me. She rushes forward and wraps her arms around my waist, burying her face against my chest. “Please, Will. Just for a minute? I’m sorry.”
My arms go around her like the last piece of a puzzle fitting into place and I shut the door and hold her like that for an age.
I kiss the top of her head and she sighs.
“I missed you,” she mumbles against my shirt.