Chapter 12 #2
Celebrations brought Noa to a stop in front of Elliott. Leaning down, she grabbed his chair’s arms and beamed. “You know what this means, right?” Then she pushed off, setting him rocking back and spilling more coffee on his shirt.
He nodded dumbly.
“Gonna need to hear you say it,” Olivia goaded.
It made too much sense to deny. The way her scent overpowered him, the way he was compelled to care for her without starting a bond, the way he couldn’t get enough of her and was letting her plow right through his shoddy walls. He’d been insane since Friday because she was it.
“She’s my true mate.”
Noa’s squeal and Liv’s loud claps sent birds fleeing the trees.
“Took you long enough, my god!” Noa cheered.
“I didn’t even consider it. Not after Ben and Liv met.” Swallowing thickly, he scrubbed his fingers through his hair, forgetting it was up in a bun. “Fuck.” He set to work fixing it, mind racing.
Was it possible all his fears were unfounded? Was it possible they were perfect for one another on a molecular level, in a magical sense? His anxiety spiked as he realized the implications of such a thing: He’d have to be worthy of her.
And really, what did he bring to the table?
Retaking her seat, Olivia got serious. “You’ve got to tell her. Your bear clearly knows, and if you don’t want him to fuck things up, tell her yourself.”
“How do you tell someone all of this?” He flung his arms wide, splashing what remained of his coffee over the railing and into the grass. “I grew up knowing how it is with mates. Dude, how am I supposed to explain this to a human?”
Liv shrugged, and he was reminded she’d never been human, even though she’d turned up in town pretending to be one.
“I’m willing to give it a shot,” Noa offered.
Relief had him stretching his neck like a meerkat, bringing him up to Noa’s height even though he sat and she stood. “Really?”
“Sure. We already told her about mate bonds—loosely. I have an appointment this afternoon. It’s the perfect time to talk to her about it. I’m getting a big chop at the Big Chop and a consult for color.” She flicked her long hair over one shoulder.
“Okay? What are you going to talk to Fern about? You’re not going to tell her the true mate thing, are you?”
Noa smirked.
“Don’t!” Elliott shouted.
“I won’t!” Noa laughed. “I’ll tell her about the existence of potential mates and true mates and how bonding works.”
“And the sickness?” Elliott asked. “Will you explain that?”
“Uh...” Noa glanced over at Liv, who was tapping away on her phone. Getting no help from her, she said, “No. I don’t know enough about it.”
“Mayor Mulligan does,” Olivia offered. “I can ask Janet and let you know what she says.”
He grunted in agreement.
“You have to tell her about it yourself, Fitz. I’m not getting into that shit,” Noa said. “My generosity only extends so far.”
“Fine. Thank you.”
“Are we good?” Olivia checked. “Ren’s ready to talk.”
“Human-mode, activate.” Noa smoothed the front of her overalls and shimmied into some sort of different demeanor.
“Hi, hi!” a cheerful voice floated from Olivia’s phone as she greeted Renata on camera.
“Let’s take this to the studio.” Standing from his chair with a sigh, Elliott set his empty mug on the railing and ushered the women off his porch.
Liv found a jug of glaze to prop her phone against, and they set up for their call. Even though Ren’s fiancé said her original favors were “tacky,” he apparently couldn’t be assed to get on the phone with her to select new ones.
Renata was friendly, a teacher like Olivia, and all kindness, patience, and smiles as they rehashed Elliott’s original order.
He’d already knocked out most of the large vases for floral centerpieces and still needed to make flower-shaped oil diffusers (for the ambiance), plus the new favors. But he had time.
“It’s going to be beautiful, thank you,” Ren confirmed, a smile showing off her big teeth.
Bracing his elbows on his worktable, he leaned down so she wasn’t stuck staring at his stomach and asked, “What’re you thinking for the favors?”
Renata presented a few ideas by holding her phone up to her laptop screen. She was most excited about small ceramic chips painted with florals to match the wedding bouquets. Each would be the size of a stamp and mounted on a magnet to hold up the guest’s seat assignment.
“I can knock out your bases—easy—but I’m not a great painter.” He grimaced. “I usually do abstract designs with my glazes.”
“Fern can do the detail work! It’s like her nails,” Olivia suggested, peeking at the phone.
“Yes, Liv! That’s perfect!”
“Works for me,” he said with a business-like nod. Inside, he and his bear rejoiced. He shouldn’t have, but he did. If they were both in their corporeal forms at the same time, they’d probably have held hands and hopped around in a circle.
Renata thanked him, he promised to send over sample photos, and his business on the call came to an end.
“I think we’re going to hit the road,” Liv began, lifting her phone and starting toward the door.
“Don’t go!” He heard Ren shout. “We need to talk about my cake, and I need to talk flowers with Noa.”
“Let me call you back in five minutes?”
With that decided, Renata hung up, and Elliott practically pounced on the women but reined himself in, feigning coolness. “What time’s your appointment, dude?”
“One.”
It was twelve-fifteen. Cool left the room. “Jesus, go. You don’t want to miss it.”
Olivia snorted, and Noa straight out cackled at him. Then they swept through the open doors of his studio and headed toward Liv’s Subaru.
“Wait!”
Four matching dark arches ran across their foreheads as they turned to face him, awaiting his request.
Heat rose to his face, and a cough did nothing to help his anxiety. He couldn’t believe what he was about to admit. But he had to start somewhere. “Can I get her number?”
“Ren’s?” Liv asked with a cheeky tilt of her head.
“Fern’s,” he growled.
Noa snickered, but Olivia came through, texting over the information.
He waited for them to disappear around the bend in the road, and once they were swallowed by trees, pulled out his phone.
Leaning against the shaded wall of his studio, a grin stole across his face as he studied Fern’s contact card.
The little picture of her was an old one.
She was obviously drunk, sporting insane purple and pink hair, cut in short choppy layers.
Her mouth was open in a wide smile that had clearly been accompanied by words. It was very Fern. He took a screenshot.
Liv shared valuable information with him, whether she meant to or not.
Fern’s birthday got stored directly in his brain, and he smiled at her email address: twocats72.
He was fairly certain that was a reference to a Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young song, and the Grateful Dead’s Europe ’72 album. Two things he could get behind.
Sliding down the wall until his ass hit the grass, Elliott stared at the blank text conversation for damn near ten minutes.
He could check in and ask how her first day was going.
He could apologize again for chasing her down.
He could tell her he had fun. Apologize and say he had fun?
That might be too forward. Was it? Oh, the wedding project, he could lean into business.
No. That would be too cold after their afternoon.
A simple question felt like the best place to start.