Page 30 of Bigfoot's Bride

We're sitting in Sizzle, which is a catchy name for the Sasquatch version of a restaurant. Or maybe a mess hall since no money is exchanged. I’m shoveling what I'm pretty sure is the most delicious oatmeal I've ever tasted into my face. Seriously, I always thought oatmeal was disgusting, but this stuff is otherworldly.

You'd think after two days of nonstop togetherness, I'd be ready to strangle Gruffydd. That’s how past relationships have gone for me. But nope. Turns out, the big guy is surprisingly enjoyable to be around, even if it is every minute of every day. Because that’s what the past two days have been like. It’s as if Gruffydd wants to be plastered to my side. He hates for me to be out of his sight. And truth be told, I kind of like it.

I'm about to ask Enfys if she can score me the oatmeal recipe so I can expand my culinary repertoire beyond pancakes when I spot Frank enter the mess hall. Awesome. That must mean the clothing we ordered has come in. And my coffee maker!

Frank glances around before his eyes land on me and he makes a beeline for our table. I tense because he's got a look on his face. One that says "I come bearing news, and I’m not sure how you're going to take it."

"Morning," he greets us, nodding at Gruffydd before turning his gaze on me. “Maria, can I talk to you for a minute? Privately? I have some news."

I glance at Gruffydd, whose spoon freezes midway to his mouth. His brows furrow. Poor guy does not like that question. I don’t either. I know, I’m an independent woman. I built an entire brand—an entire eight figure a year career—around being Kiki Karaprtyan. Having a possessive, sweet-one-minute-and-fiercely-protective-the-next beast stuck to me like glue should feel stifling. But it doesn’t.

"Whatever you have to say can be said in front of Gruffydd," I tell Frank, vaguely wondering if the news has something to do with my stepmom.

Frank looks from Gruffydd to me and nods. "Alright then. Maria, I've got some news about your...situation topside."

“My situation?”

"The cartel," Frank continues, his voice low, "there's been a change in leadership. A coup, apparently. And your guy, the one you testified against? He's been slaughtered. Along with his entire family. A previously rival faction has taken over. There's no one left who has a grudge against you, Maria. You're free."

Free. The word hangs in the air like a shimmering mirage, too good to be true. I blink, trying to process what I'm hearing.

"I...I…" I clear my suddenly dry throat.

“You can go home.”

Home. I’m in shock. Frozen. I can’t seem to speak or garner a response.

A small smile plays at the corners of Frank’s mouth and I can’t help but notice how effeminate his mannerisms are. Thatmight be a good thing if he’s gay. Probably not so much if he’s hetero. I’m not even aware my thoughts have wandered until he adds, "Back to your old life. Ditch the alias. No more Maria Garcia."

“I’m going home!” I flinch when I realize my words are a little too loud since they seem to echo through Sizzle. “I can go home?”

Sitting back, I stare into the distance, stunned. This is it. The moment I've been dreaming of for months. The chance to shed this stifling second skin and step back into my real life.

So why don't I feel more excited? I should be elated.

My gaze darts to Gruffydd, who's watching me with an inscrutable expression. His hand engulfing mine feels warm and solid, an anchor in this swirling sea of emotions.

"When?" I ask, tearing my eyes away from Gruffydd's intense stare. "When can I leave?"

"Now, if you want," Frank says with a shrug. "I'm heading topside in a few. You can come with."

Now. As in, right this second. As in, say goodbye to Grotto and all its wonders, to the friends I've made, to...to Gruffydd.

The thought sends a pang through my chest, sharp and bittersweet. But this is what I wanted—what Iwant—isn't it? To go back to my real life, to reclaim my identity, my autonomy. So why does it suddenly feel like my oatmeal is going to come back up?

I chance another glance at Gruffydd, silently willing him to say something.

Tell me what to do. Ask me to stay.

But he just sits there, his jaw tight, his eyes unreadable.

A heavy silence stretches between us.

I'm about to open my mouth, to say...I don't even know what, when I catch a flurry of activity out of the corner of my eye.

"Maria! Is it true? Are you leaving?" Steph's voice cuts through the din as she barrels towards me, wrapping her arms around me, her wild red curls in my face.

Bambi and Deborah are right behind her wearing expressions that are a mix of shock and something that looks suspiciously like sadness.

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