23. Mary
Mary
I was in Maeve’s smaller sitting room with my feet tucked under a blanket, a cup of tea in my hands, and a plate of chocolate covered biscuits I hadn’t asked for but accepted. Hudson and Lincoln were down the hall with Artem and Ivan, discussing security upgrades for the penthouse.
Hudson and Lincoln stayed close long enough for my doctor to be called, consulted, and satisfied that I wasn’t in immediate danger if I kept resting, drinking water, and stopped having men arrive from the sky.
Then the house grew quieter when the men started making plans.
Though Maeve’s house was never truly quiet. Mila was having a nap. Mac was talking to Gregor about why Duke wasn’t called Duchess. He’d learned that Dukes were boys and the Doberman was girl. Gregor explained it was just a name.
Maeve rolled her eyes. “He’ll never stop now.”
Maeve sat opposite me in an armchair, one leg tucked beneath her, Mila asleep against her chest.
“You keep listening out for them,” she said.
I looked away from the door. “I’m not.”
“You are.”
“I’m aware of my surroundings. Sienna says that’s sensible.”
Sienna stood near the window and didn’t look up from her phone. “I said situational awareness was useful. I didn’t say staring at the door like it owes you money was tactical.”
Maeve pressed her lips flat.
“Betrayal,” I said.
“Professional honesty,” Sienna replied.
“You see? Everyone has become very committed to the truth at my expense.”
Maeve adjusted Mila carefully. “That’s because lying to yourself is your favorite indoor sport.”
“I also enjoy painting.”
“Yes, and pretending the painting isn’t important to you.”
I narrowed my eyes. “I preferred you when you were distracted by Prada crimes.”
“Fergus is in trouble.” From somewhere nearby came a small bark. Maeve looked toward the door. “And listening.”
I smiled into my tea. Then Damien’s name moved through my mind. I set the cup down.
Maeve saw it immediately. “What?”
“Damien is coming next week.”
Her face changed, but not as much as I expected. “To London?”
“England. Holidays. He texted Lincoln. He wants to see him and Hudson.”
Sienna’s attention shifted from her phone, though she didn’t interrupt.
Maeve stroked Mila’s back. “Does he know about you and them?”
“They never found the opportunity to tell him.”
“About the babies?”
“Or me.”
“That could get messy.” Maeve’s eyes softened. “Are you frightened?”
“I’m worried,” I said.
“That wasn’t the question.”
“I’m aware.”
“Mary.”
I looked at her then. Maeve waited.
“I’m afraid he’ll hate me,” I said.
“Damien?”
“Yes. No. Maybe.” I pressed my thumb into the blanket. “I’m afraid he’ll hate them. Or make them hate themselves. Or make it so painful that they look at me and see the whole mess instead of...” I stopped.
“Instead of what?”
My throat tightened.
“Instead of me.” I pulled the blanket tighter. “I’m frightened of Hudson’s face when he has to pick his words carefully around a boy he loves. And Lincoln’s guilt, which he’ll carry and never once mention.”
Mila stirred against Maeve, making a small sleepy sound. Maeve kissed her head and waited until she settled.
“You’re not the mess,” Maeve said.
“Tell my heart that.”
Maeve smiled faintly. “Your heart is dramatic.”
“It was raised by Callum McCarthy.”
She nodded as the fire sparked in the grate.
Maeve’s gaze moved to the hall, where Hudson’s voice carried briefly and Lincoln answered with a rougher yet quieter sound. I didn’t catch the words, only the tone.
Maeve looked back at me. “How do you feel about them? You called them your alphas.”
I reached for my tea because my hands needed an occupation and my mouth needed a delay. “They’re very tall.”
“Mary.”
“Old enough to be my older brothers.”
Maeve coughed. “Much older.”
“Thank you for reminding me.”
“But how do you feel about them, Mary?”
I sighed. “Fine. They’re good.”
Maeve stared at me.
“Very good.”
She gave me nothing.
“Infuriatingly good.”
Maeve waited me out.
I put the cup down. “I want them.” I breathed out. “I want them,” I said again, quieter. “And I hate how much I want them because wanting people helps them hurt you.”
Maeve’s expression gentled, and her eyes filled. “They won’t hurt you on purpose.”
“You don’t know that. I want them so much but what if Damien makes them forget me.”
“It won’t happen because they look at you like you’re precious and they can’t believe you’re theirs.”
My eyes stung. “But is it because of the babies?”
“They’re your scent matches, Mary.”
I rubbed a hand over my face. “I know.”
“No, listen to me. They smell you. You smell them. It isn’t a convenient arrangement because you’re pregnant. The bond was there before the pregnancy. Pregnant or not, those men would have found their way to you.”
I swallowed.
“You know,” I whispered, “I’d choose them even if they weren’t my scent matches.”
Maeve froze.
So did I.
Maeve moved first. Mila grumbled when she was shifted, but Maeve managed to set her carefully on the chair before crossing the space between us. Then she grabbed me and wrapped both arms around me, holding on so tightly I had to breathe against her shoulder.
“Maeve.”
“Shut up.”
“That’s not very nurturing.”
“I’m nurturing.”
“You told me to shut up.”
“Tenderly.”
I laughed, and then I was crying as Maeve’s hand moved over my hair.
“I’m so happy for you,” she whispered. “I know you’re frightened. I know it’s complicated. But Mary, you found them. Your mates. Your pack.”
“They found me in a hotel corridor with three dildos and poor decision-making skills.”
Maeve pulled back just enough to look at me. “That detail can wait until my children are at university.”
“Sorry.”
“Or do not speak of it again until the children have moved out or I’m dead.”
“Yeah, my mouth needs to stop moving sometimes.”
She wiped under my eye with her thumb. “But you found them,” she said again.
The door opened before I could answer, and Mac peered in. “Mama, Fergus is sorry.”
Maeve didn’t turn around. “Did Fergus say that?”
Mac looked over his shoulder, then back at us. “With his eyes.”
“Did you find the other slipper?”
A pause. “Most of it.”
Maeve closed her eyes.
I bit my lip so hard to stop myself from laughing.
“Is he forgiven, because Gregor wants to give him treats?”
“Tell Gregor he owes me new slippers.”
“Okay.” Mac grinned, then disappeared again.
Maeve stood and reached for her phone. “Right.”
I wiped my face. “Right what?”
“I’m calling Presley.”
“Presley.”
“You know Presley. My best friend.”
“You have friends?”
Maeve looked offended. “I’m delightful.”
“You’re as terrifying as your husbands.”
“I’ve been told it’s a strength.”
“Does Presley know that?”
“Presley lives in London with her pack. She knows everything, usually before anyone has told her.”
“Then why are you calling her?”
Maeve was already scrolling. “Because my sister has found her scent matches and is living in London, and you’re not spending the next several months alone in a penthouse waiting for men to come home.”
Sienna made a small sound.
Maeve tapped the screen and put the phone to her ear.
“Presley,” she said when the call connected. “Mary has found her scent matches.”
I made a strangled noise but Maeve ignored me completely.
“Yes. I know. How lucky are we all?”
There was a burst of noise from the phone. A woman’s voice, bright and warm and loud enough that I could hear joy before I could make out words.
Maeve smiled. “Hold on. I’ll put you on.”
“No,” I whispered.
“Yes.”
“I look dreadful.”
“It’s a phone call.”
“She’ll sense it.”
“Probably,” Maeve said, and handed me the phone.
I took it. “Hello?”
“Mary?” Presley said. “Oh, love. Maeve has been criminally withholding information. Scent matches?”
I looked at Maeve. She smiled.
“Apparently.”
“That’s the tone you use for questionable yogurt, not fate.”
I blinked. Then I smiled. “I like her,” I said to Maeve.
“Everyone likes me,” Presley said. “It’s a burden I carry with grace.”
I settled back against the sofa. “Yes. Scent matches. Two alphas. Older. Ridiculously competent. One alphabetizes things emotionally. The other keeps feeding me.”
“Excellent. Names?”
“Hudson and Lincoln.”
There was a tiny pause. “Bale and Hart?”
“You know them?”
“London is smaller than men think it is. Good reputations. Intimidating suits. Very good tailoring.”
“That does appear to be their religion.”
Presley laughed. “And you’re living in London with them?”
“On a trial basis.”
Maeve leaned over. “She says trial basis because admitting happiness gives her hives.”
“I get that,” Presley said. “Mary, I live in London with my pack. We’re having coffee next week.”
“Are we?”
“Yes. You can bring your alphas. My mothers-in-law are here for the week. They’re lovely. But we can all have a get together. “
“That sounds crowded.”
“We have a large table.”
I looked toward the hallway again. Hudson’s voice drifted through, followed by Lincoln’s lower answer.
Presley softened. “Maeve worries.”
“She disguises it well as bossiness.”
“That’s because she was born without subtlety.”
Maeve snatched the phone closer. “I can hear you.”
“Good,” Presley said. “Then you know I’m correct.”
I laughed.
“Text me your number. We’ll arrange something easy. No pressure. We can even have a little tea party in my tiny cottage and leave the alphas to talk.”
“Your tiny cottage.”
Maeve nodded.
When the call ended, Maeve sat beside me again.
“There,” she said. “You now have a London friend.”
“You make me sound like a rescue plant.”
“You do need sunlight and careful watering.”
I leaned back into the cushions with Presley’s number newly saved when Maeve nudged my shoulder with hers.
“What are you thinking?” she asked.
I looked down at my cold cup of tea and smiled. “That fate has terrible timing.”
“Usually.”
“And decent taste.”
Maeve’s smile softened. “Yes,” she said. “It does. Now you just have to let their son know with kindness.”