Page 56 of The (Maybe) Murderer Who Knocked Me Up

She understands me so well.

I return to my own kitchen and get out the goblets I bought earlier today, rather than the cheap wine glasses I normally use when Aunt Emerald brings over a bottle of wine. She lets herself in, still wearing the robe and towel on her head. I love how comfortable she is around me now.

She glances down at the two goblets in my hand. “Oh, those are lovely, Quin. Let me see.”

I hold up one of the goblets, not to give to her, but to show her the way it reflects the light. She smiles up at the pretty glass, and for a moment, I swear her eyes twinkle.

“Beautiful. When did you get these? I haven’t seen them before,” she says.

“This afternoon. I also bought this nice glass case to put them in. Look.” I walk over to the counter where the case and the other six glasses are displayed.

Aunt Emerald stares at the glass case for a long time. She takes in every detail, admiring it exactly the way I need her to. After the drama with Slade earlier tonight, it’s a relief for her to see how wonderful my goblets are.

“You love him,” she says softly.

“You mean Slade?”

She nods.

“Yes. I can’t tell you how I know this, but I am absolutely sure he isn’t dangerous. And he loves Chime. He’s wonderful with her.”

She holds her arms out to me with a deep, satisfied smile on her face. “Come here, Quinny. Let me give you a hug.”

Aunt Emerald’s hugs always feel like home. She smells of soap and sweet white wine. I close my eyes and allow myself torevel in the comfort of having her so close. I don’t know how much things will change now that Slade is in my life again.

She releases me and walks over to the table. “Let’s celebrate, shall we? This wine is the cheapest white I could find with a twisty top.”

“As is tradition,” I say.

“Exactly. We aren’t pretentious enough to mess with corks, are we? Now give me one of your lovely goblets, so we can toast to your collection.”

I knew deep down that’s what the goblets were when I unpacked them, but hearing her say it out loud makes it real.

“My collection,” I repeat.

“Yes, my sweet boy.” She holds out her hand. I hand her one of the goblets. She holds it up to the light herself, twisting it to appreciate the way it sparkles. “Just gorgeous. Wait until your mother sees these.”

“Do you think she’ll like them? I bought them at a department store. Do you think they’re special enough?” I ask.

She sets the goblet down on the table. “That doesn’t matter. Your mom’s picture frames are all from Goodwill and garage sales. They sparkle because she infused them with the love she feels for your alpha mom. That’s how it works. Our paws aren’t only magic when we place them on our mates. Fate lets us claim our collection of shiny things, too. She’s very generous to raccoon shifters. I think we’re her favorite.”

I look down at the goblet in my hand. I didn’t realize the glass had absorbed my love for Slade. Is that why they’re so beautiful to me?

“What about your collection?” I ask. “Is it infused with love of your almost-mate?”

She shakes her head. “It has my love for other things. The crystals sparkle with my love for you and your brothers. My spoons gleam with my love for travel. My jewelry shines with thelove I feel for my animals. My life is full, Quin. My collection is a reflection of that. Yours will be too, in time. Slade won’t be the only thing in this world that you’ll love.”

I never understood that all those days when I sat underneath my omega mom’s chandelier and admired the way it sparkled, I was really admiring the way she loved the world. Now I get why she insisted on that heavy chandelier in the dining room, even though the ceiling is cracking from its weight. It soaked up all the love in that room.

“Why didn’t you tell me how it all worked before?” I ask.

She twists off the lid to her bottle of wine and pours a generous amount in her goblet. “It’s a rite of passage. Someday, the first raccoon shifter Chime shows her collection to will explain it to her. And if she has children, the same will be true for them. It’s our way, Quin. There are some things about the world that you only understand when you’re older.”

I sit across from her, still staring at the way my love reflects the light. It reminds me of a conversation Aunt Emerald and I had long ago.

“Is that why the wise ones see a twinkle in an omega’s eyes when they’re pregnant?”

She nods. “Yes. Love is the shiniest thing of all, and children are pure love. It’s why we name them after shiny things, too.”

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