EPILOGUE
“Leticia Cavanagh.” My name is called, and a portion of the stadium erupts in cheers.
Most of my peers turn to look where a whole section is standing up and clapping, hooting and hollering. I don’t think it’s the whole pack, but a large majority of them.
The clapping and cheering don’t stop until I’ve crossed the stage and made it back down the stairs on the other side.
My cheeks hurt from smiling so much, and while part of me is embarrassed that the rule breakers are my friends and family, my heart is warm from the love.
“Please remember to keep cheering to a minimum as we make it through the list,” the announcer says over the loudspeaker.
I return to my seat quickly and pull my phone out of my clutch.
There’s a picture from Royal, taken from his vantage point of me walking across the stage, and another of him and his parents wearing blue shirts with little crowns and the words ‘Not a Princess’ stitched underneath them on the right-hand side.
I was able to talk them down from big, in-the-center-of-the-shirt logos to the smaller version. But I wasn’t able to convince them not to put Cavanagh across the back with pictures of Royal and me together.
I’m laughing, and the guy next to me doesn’t look so amused, but I hold myself together and settle in for the rest of the graduates to cycle through.
I text Royal a heart and click into the message from Berto. It’s small, just one word, ‘Congratulations,’ but our communication has pretty much always been single-line texts. Nothing has changed now that I don’t live with him. I send him back a quick thank you.
Maybe someday he and I will have a relationship, but baby steps.
Mom hasn’t reached out, and I don’t think she will. But I look back up to where the Cavanaghs sit . . . It’s her loss, not mine.
“Who knew graduating was so much work?” I plop down on our bed, looking up at the ceiling.
A second later, the bedroom automation that Royal set up projects the night sky above me.
“Oh, me.” Royal yawns as he comes to lie down beside me, resting his head against mine as we look up at the faux night sky.
“Was dinner after too much? I tried to warn Mom that it might be better if we kept things small, but what started out with dinner for the four of us turned into the seven of us, and then pretty soon the whole pack was wondering why they couldn’t come. ”
“It was good. But I missed cuddling with you.” I nuzzle in against him, drawing deep breaths of his sweet scent and closing my eyes.
“I would always rather cuddle with you than go out to eat.” Royal’s voice sounds devious.
But I don’t engage in the innuendo lurking in his words. I’m too tired for the multiple orgasms he promised over text messages this week while he was out in the field working with Valor, setting up some new mercenaries.
“I did find it interesting . . .” Royal pauses. “That when the conversation of ‘what’s next’ came up at the table, you seemed unsure about the future.”
“Well, my life was planned out exactly this far: graduate with my bachelor’s degree and get married. I’ve never thought about it a whole lot past today. Well, I guess I’ve never thought about it beyond our wedding next month.” I kiss his cheek.
“We’ll have to fix that. You’ve got a whole life to live, and I don’t want you thinking small.
” Royal turns his head, and our lips meet.
“Back to school for a more advanced degree, another bachelor’s degree in something you’re passionate about, a job at Clark Enterprises, a stay-at-home mate, a volunteer with the pack, and anything else you can dream up .
. . The sky’s the limit, gorgeous. You tell me what you want to do, and I’ll support you one hundred percent. ”
“I just have to get used to looking at the big, wide world first.” I move my hand and entwine our fingers together. “Promise that you’ll be with me every step of the way?”
“I promise that even when we’re not together, I’m always watching you.” Royal smiles at me, and my heart flutters.
THE END