Epilogue
I spot Graham first. His blond head rises above the back of the booth a full three inches above where any normal person's would be.
He's turned toward something Saint is saying, laughing at whatever it is, and the sight of all three of them laughing, waiting—it still does something to me that three months has done absolutely nothing to diminish.
Silas sees me before I make it halfway across the room. He stands and waits, and I walk to him like there's a string between us that gets shorter the moment I walk through the door.
He cups my face in both hands and kisses me. His thumbs brush my cheeks before he lets go. "Little bird," he murmurs against my mouth.
Graham is already on his feet by the time Silas releases me, unfolding himself from the booth with more enthusiasm than grace. His kiss lands warm and sure, his hands finding my waist automatically. "You're late."
"I had a meeting that ran a little over.”
Saint finds me last. He doesn't say anything. He just looks at me for half a second and then he pulls me in. His kiss is quieter than the others. But there's nothing small about it.
"Hi," he says.
"Hi," I say back.
They settle back into the booth. Saint pushes a margarita across the table toward me without a word. I wrap my hand around the salted rim and drag my tongue along it before taking a sip. All three scents surge at once.
"Princess." Saint's voice is low. "If you want to finish that margarita, you'll find another way to drink it."
Graham laughs and pulls me into his side. "I don't know. I like watching you do that."
Saint cuts his eyes at him. "Watching her do anything gets you fired up."
Graham considers this with complete sincerity. "Exactly."
Silas lets the moment settle. Then his dark, steady gaze finds mine across the table. "What was your meeting?"
"Not a meeting, exactly."
They all look at me with the same expression. Trying to sus out the difference.
"A doctor's appointment."
Silas and Saint go still at exactly the same moment. The color doesn't drain from their faces but it thinks about it.
"Nothing bad," I say quickly. "Good, actually."
The tension breaks by about half.
Graham sits forward. His eyes have gone bright. "What kind? Like a baby doctor?"
"Slow down, professor."
I drag my tongue along the salted rim and take a long sip. Three distinct growls rumble around the table. I set the glass down.
"If you must know." I look directly at Silas. "I went to see your dad."
Silas blinks. "Pops? Why?"
"He thinks my heat is coming early."
I wait for the shock. The scrambling. The Graham-frantically-researching-articles-on-his-phone energy I’ve been bracing for all afternoon.
Nothing. All three of them look at me with the same expression. Calm and unsurprised.
I set my margarita down. "You knew."
Graham clears his throat. "The two spikes in close succession were a fairly reliable indicator that your cycle was recalibrating. The conclusion was," he adjusts his glasses, "fairly obvious."
I stare at him. Then I look across the table. Silas and Saint are sitting with the same easy stillness. Saint lifts his chin slightly. Silas just nods once.
They knew.
All three of them knew and said absolutely nothing and let me walk into Jeremy's office today and then come here like I was giving them brand new information.
I pick up my margarita. Take a very long sip.
Silas watches me. His expression is steady but careful. "Are you disappointed?" he asks.
"No," I say.
I turn the glass slowly in my hands. "I needed a minute with it. But no."
I look up. "The last one was..." I trail off, searching for the right word.
"More than nice," Saint says quietly from across the table.
"I fucking loved it," Graham says. Then he glances around the restaurant and lowers his voice. "I fucking loved it."
The weight that’s been sitting on my chest eases. Because I loved it too. For the first time in my life, I loved it.
Silas reaches across the table. His large hand swallows mine completely. "I know heats have been bad for you," he says. "But I don't think the last one was a fluke. I talked to Pops about it after. He said he thought you'd find the rest will be completely different."
I nod. My eyes are brimming with tears and I'm doing my best to stop it. "He said the same to me today."
Silas squeezes my hand.
"It's just—" I stop. Start again. "Before you, they were so bad.
Beyond bad. Miserable in a way that's hard to describe to someone who hasn't felt it.
" I look at our hands. "And it's hard to forget that.
Even when everything is different now. Even when I know it will be different. My head remembers what it used to be."
"How does your omega feel about it?" Graham asks. "She's going to be your best indicator of what to expect."
I do a quick internal check. She's rolling around on her back, tail swishing, desperate for someone to rub her belly. She has absolutely no notes.
"She's good with it," I say.
Saint's mouth curves. "My alpha's fucking loving it. Thumping his tail right now. He can't wait."
"Mine either," Graham grins.
"Same," Silas says. He squeezes my hand again. Then his expression settles into something steadier. "But we follow your lead. If you're not ready, we ask Pops about suppressants. No pressure. No timeline."
I look at all three of them. It's still scary. I won't pretend it isn't. My body has a long memory. But walking away from this, from them, from what the last heat actually felt like? Not an option.
And it doesn't matter anyway. Jeremy reviewed my full file today and I am still not a candidate for suppressants. My body made the decision before I did, which is frankly very on brand.
"We're doing this," I say. "Jeremy thinks we have about two weeks before it hits."
The smile that spreads across Silas's face is slow and certain. Saint's matches it. Graham is already grinning ear to ear, glasses slightly askew, looking like a man who has absolutely no intention of playing it cool.
"Two weeks." Graham taps his finger on the table thoughtfully. "We may need to practice a bit. You know. To prepare for all the extra activity."
Saint doesn't miss a beat. "Absolutely. Wouldn't want any of us to be out of shape when the time comes."
I look between them. "Definitely. Heat is a lot of hard work. The body should be prepared."
Silas turns and catches Estrella's eye across the restaurant. "Check, please."
Graham is already pushing me out of the booth. I take another long sip of my margarita.
"I'm not done," I say.
Saint appears on my other side. "I'll make you one at home." He steers me gently but firmly toward the door.
I glance over my shoulder. Silas has thrown a fistful of bills in Estrella's general direction without breaking stride. She catches them with a knowing smile.
The moment we hit the parking lot Saint scoops me up, one arm under my knees, one at my back, and moves toward the car at a pace that can only be described as fast.
"Graham!" Silas calls out.
"Already on it," Graham says, unlocking the Rover.
Graham pulls out of the lot and adjusts the mirror. Angled precisely toward the backseat. Silas slides in on my left. Saint on my right. Graham catches my eye in the mirror and smiles.
Silas's hand slides to the back of my neck.
Saint's mouth finds my ear. 'Two weeks is a long time to wait.'"
I hook my thigh over his and lean into Silas. “Good thing we’re not waiting.”
~The End~