21. MJ
MJ
C hocolate Pity Party Continued
“Here’s a new batch!” Dina sing-songs, marching into the living room like a proud baker-queen, a plate piled high with fresh, steaming zeppoles balanced in her hands.
The smell hits me first— fried dough heaven with a sweet undertone of melted chocolate.
“I stuffed these with peanut butter and raspberry jam this time,” she declares, practically glowing with self-satisfaction.
Carina groans from the couch, one hand on her very pregnant belly.
“God help us all.”
“God’s busy,” Dina shoots back. “But I’m here. Eat. ”
I don’t need to be told twice. I reach out, grab one of the little chocolate-dusted pillows, and immediately yelp as molten filling scorches my palm.
“Careful, they’re hot,” Dina scolds, snatching the plate just out of reach.
My eyes sting, but it’s not the burn that does it.
It’s Carter.
Stupid, lying, gorgeous, golden-eyed Lion.
“What if I wasn’t enough?” The whisper slips out before I can catch it, soft but sharp, like a blade against my own skin.
Both sisters still, their eyes flicking toward me.
I swallow hard and try to cover with a laugh, but it comes out broken. “I mean… what if that’s why he left? What if he realized, you know, I’m not?—”
The words stick, but the thoughts don’t stop.
It wouldn’t be the first time a guy walked away.
College boyfriends who just weren’t ready for commitment.
Random dates who ghosted after one night, leaving me wondering if my curves, my sass, my everything was too much or not enough.
And sure, I’ve always told myself it was their problem. That I deserved better.
But still. The doubt sits there.
Creeps in. Eats at me .
And Carter?
He isn’t just any guy. He’s Shifter-hot.
Like, annoyingly, unfairly hot.
Muscles on top of muscles, like he was designed in some cosmic gym for gods.
A face that looks like it was carved by Renaissance sculptors with way too much time on their hands.
That lazy swagger that makes every nerve ending in my body sit up and beg.
And those eyes. Those ridiculous, blazing gold eyes that look right through me.
He’s everything.
The whole damn package.
And me?
I’m still just me.
Flour-stained jeans. Tomato sauce under my nails. Hair usually in a top knot because I’m sweating over pizza ovens ten to twelve hours a day.
Not glamorous. Not mystical. Not magical.
Just MJ.
And what if “just MJ” isn’t enough for a Lion who could have anyone?
Carina hands me a tissue, her belly nudging my elbow as she scoots even closer.
“Okay, MJ, listen to me. You are not just some scratch post he gets to mark when he’s in the mood. You’re my baby sister. My fierce, pizza-slinging, sauce-stained, kick-ass baby sister. And you deserve a man who knows that.”
“Yeah,” Dina adds, reaching over to swipe caramel off her chin with her finger. “And if Lion Boy doesn’t? Then maybe I’ll rip his mane off myself. Wouldn’t be the first time. Or, well, we could always use a new throw rug for the fireplace!”
“Dina, we are not unaliving the man,” Carina says.
“Speak for yourself. Wolves get protective. It’s instinct.” Dina bares her teeth, then shoves another zeppole in her mouth.
I groan, wiping my eyes. “You two are ridiculous.”
“Maybe.” Carina’s lips twitch. “But you know what else we are? Ride-or-die. If you want us to help make him jealous, we will. If you want us to scare him straight, we can do that too. And if you want us to just sit here and eat chocolate with you until your belly aches—well, we’re already doing that. ”
I snort through my tears.
“Great. Sisters as therapists, bodyguards, and enablers. ”
“Exactly.” Dina points her caramel-dipped zeppole at me like a dagger. “And don’t forget strategists. Because if Carter Leone thinks he can just bite you, bind you, and then ghost you into thinking you’re the problem? He’s got another think coming.”
Carina leans back, hand on her belly, eyes sharp. “We’ll give him one chance to prove himself, MJ. One. But if he blows it?”
Dina grins, powdered sugar all over her lips.
“Then we show him exactly what happens when you piss off three Coppola sisters. And spoiler alert—he won’t be roaring, he’ll be whimpering.”
Despite myself, I laugh.
A broken, watery laugh, but still.
Because no matter how badly Carter messed me up, my sisters will always have my back.
Even if my stupid heart still beats like crazy every time I think of him.
“Ooh, I know what!” Dina shouts, slamming her powdered-sugar–coated hands on the counter so hard a zeppole goes flying.
Carina jerks, then lets out a very unladylike burp that echoes through the kitchen.
“Excuse me! Junior here is killing my digestive system,” she mutters, hand on her belly .
Me and Dina? We’re howling. Like bent-over, tears-in-our-eyes howling.
When I finally catch my breath, I sniff and ask, “Okay, psycho, what’s your big idea?”
“Let’s call Uncle Uzzi!” Dina declares like she just invented penicillin. “He’ll know more about Lion mating rituals than any of us.”
Carina wipes her mouth, nodding solemnly like Dina just solved world peace. “Good point. And that loveable old Witch sure likes to meddle.”
I stare at both of them, slack-jawed.
“You two are insane. Absolutely insane.”
“Maybe,” Carina says, already pulling out her phone. “But we’re insane sisters who love you. And honestly, MJ, you can’t keep flip-flopping between rage and grief—it’s exhausting.”
“I’m not flip-flopping!” I protest.
They both give me the same identical look.
“Okay fine. I’m pancake-flipping. That’s different,” I mutter.
Carina smirks and hits dial.
Uncle Uzzi picks up on the first ring.
“Hello, liebling! How are you feeling today?”
Before I can grab the phone, Dina snatches it first, her eyes blazing.
“Not good, Uncle Uzzi. It seems the big pussy you hooked our sister up with is a two-timing, litter-box-using loser!”
“Dina!” I shriek, my cheeks burning hotter than our wood-fired pizza oven.
“Oh dear,” Uzzi says, his voice a mix of scandal and glee. “Tell me everything.”
And Goddess help me, I do.
I spill it all. From the balcony sexcapade to the bite, to him telling me he didn’t mean to claim me, to the whispers at his office that he might be rolling in the hay with every Lioness in Jersey.
Uzzi tsks so loudly I can practically hear the glitter shake off his sleeve.
“Oh, liebling. A Lion never bites without meaning it. And Carter Leone? He’s no tomcat. He’s just a fool. A stubborn, terrified fool.”
“Yeah, but I can’t just wait around for him to decide if he wants me.”
My voice comes out small, raw, like someone wrung me out and left me on the line to dry.
I hate it. I hate how much this hurts.
“Nor should you consider doing that, my dear,” Uncle Uzzi replies, his voice warm but edged with steel. “You are no one’s afterthought.”
Carina leans toward the phone, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand .
“So what do we do, Uncle Uzzi?”
“You leave it to me,” he says, and I swear I can hear the curl of his wicked smile even through the speaker.
“If that boy wants to prove himself, and if it is okay with you, MJ, then we’ll give him the chance of a lifetime.
But if you don’t want to give him a chance, then I will personally help remove his claim bite. ”
The words hit me like a punch.
Remove his bite? Undo the bond?
It makes my chest ache just thinking about it.
Even though I know in the end, I might not have a choice.
“But if I do want to give him a chance, um, then what?” I croak, my throat tight, my fingers gripping a crumpled napkin so hard it nearly tears in half.
“Then we shall let the Lion prove himself, liebling,” Uzzi says, gentler now. “But let me ask you this. Are you sure? Do you feel strongly for Carter? Strongly enough for you to put your heart on the line?”
The room goes quiet except for Dina’s sniffle.
I look at my sisters, at their shining eyes and their soft encouragement, and I know there’s no point pretending .
“I know it’s fast,” I whisper, choking on the lump in my throat, “but the truth is I think I love him.”
Dina covers her mouth with her hand, eyes wet. Carina nods, rubbing her belly and smiling through her tears.
“Ahhh,” Uncle Uzzi sighs, like he’s just heard a perfect aria. “Then, my dear, you don’t have a choice. Love means taking risks sometimes, yes? Ask your sisters. They know.”
Both Dina and Carina nod, wiping the dampness from their cheeks like a pair of messy synchronized swimmers.
“Okay,” I say, voice shaking, “so say I give him a chance. And if he fails?”
“Then,” Uzzi says, his voice full of mischief again, “I’ll turn his mane pink for eternity. And every time he looks in the mirror, he’ll be reminded that he’s a fool who lost his fated mate because of his own stupidity.”
Despite myself, I laugh through my tears.
And for the first time since Carter bit me, hope doesn’t feel so impossible.
“One thing, Uncle Uzzi,” Carina adds. “Could you maybe do the pink mane thing, anyway?”
Dina cackles .
I giggle.
Uzzi chuckles darkly.
“Patience, my darlings. Let the magic— and the matchmaking —do its work.”
I drop my face into my hands.
Sweet Baby Jesus.
What have I gotten myself into?