Page 41 of Real

“You wanted to snuggle with your boyfriend in front of a fire, skatten min?” the woman asks.

Buddy nods.

The woman claps her hands and a door in the corner opens.

“Sometimes we find that props help our guests be more comfortable. Would you like to watch us set up, or would you like it to be a mystery? You are welcome to close your eyes, you know. Some guests prefer it that way.”

Buddy beams at her. “I would like that. Thank you. Will you close your eyes with me, H?”

“Sure.” How could I deny him?

We hold hands with our eyes closed as the scent of coffee permeates the air. I wonder what other people ask for. Surely they don’t get requests for log cabins often, and rich people can go to the beach whenever they want.

What do rich people want to experience more than anything? What are they willing to pay top dollar for on a Wednesday night in Manhattan? What would our host be creating if she was working for a different client?

The scent of campfire and pine comes long before we’re told to open our eyes. There’s also extra warmth.

“There you are, skatten min. You snuggle with your lover, and then you go upstairs when you’re ready. Don’t touch anything but the sofa and the pillow. That’s to put under your shirt so you can pretend you’re pregnant,” the woman says.

The log cabin is the ultimate fantasy. Like Buddy requested, there’s a roaring fire with a couch settled in front of it. But it’s the little touches that take my breath away. There are photographs on the mantle of Buddy and I kissing or smiling. In some of the photographs the Illusors we’ve met are hugging us or drinking glasses of wine with us.

The cabin walls have old-fashioned snowshoes and thick fur hats hanging from pegs. There’s a quaint kitchen with a paper stuck to the fridge with a magnet. The paper has a tiny yellow handprint.

I can’t help but get emotional over that.

Buddy stuffs the pillow under his shirt. It doesn’t look that convincing, but he hugs his stomach anyway and looks up at me with a vulnerability that makes me understand how important this is to him.

Why shouldn’t it be? If we can’t share our deepest fantasies and hopes with the ones we care for, then what’s the point? This fantasy is a part of Buddy, and I think this part of Buddy is beautiful.

I sit on the couch and hold out my arms to him. He eases onto my lap and curls into my chest. The warmth of the fake fire is bizarrely convincing, so I worry he’ll be too warm if I wrap my arms around him. I do it anyway. I think it’s an integral part of his fantasy.

It’s too painful to let myself imagine this is real. Even if Buddy gets free of Dorian, Einar was practically begging to be Buddy’s mate. Einar is handsome and can give him some weird kind of illusion sex that’s probably amazing.

I’ll never get to have something like this for real. But damn if the pretend version isn’t still great.

“When I was younger, I used to dream about having an omega and a family of my own,” I say. It’s something I haven’t admitted to anyone in a really long time. “I grew up in a cabin, you know. Not exactly like this one of course, but we would cuddle in front of the fire when I was a kid. The whole family, not just my dads. We’d huddle under a blanket, and my omega dad would tell us Bible stories. God, I loved that. I used to imagine telling Bible stories to kids of my own and holding my omega tight to keep him warm.”

Buddy grasps my shirt. “You can pretend I’m the red wolf shifter omega you always wanted.”

I can’t tell if that’s something he wants or something that makes him sad.

“No, Buddy. I’d rather pretend I’m bonded to you.”

His grip on my shirt becomes tighter. Again, I’m uncertain whether it’s because he liked what I said or because he’s overwhelmed. It’s so hard to know how to give Buddy what he wants in this moment.

“How many kids would we have?” I ask.

He looks up at me. “We? As in you and me?”

I nod.

“Uh, three? Or two if three is too many.”

I kiss his forehead. “Red wolf shifter families are big. I’d love to have as many children as you’re willing to give me.”

He smiles shyly. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

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