Page 160 of The Good Boys Club

I bounced the word around in my head.

“Yes,” I replied. “Yes. It’s perfect. I love it. Oaklen Cassidy.”

“It has an alpha’s aura,” he said. I nodded in agreement. “Come here.”

I moved over to him, let him brush the tear from my cheek—didn’t even realise I was crying—and let him pull me down into a blisteringly tender kiss.

Abruptly, he pulled away. “Anyway, I’m glad you like it, because I already bought baby Oaklen a present.”

“You did?”

He unlocked his phone and angled it towards me, showing me an online receipt for a newborn’s mustard beanie hat. On the brim it had a mock-up design of an embroideredOaklen.

A sharp lump formed in my throat.

“I ordered two. One with ear holes and one with no ear holes because we don’t know if baby will be more shifter or more werewolf yet. Or maybe somewhere between those two.”

“You’re incredible.” I was unable to resist his magnetism any longer, and I leaned down to steal another kiss.

“Oaklen Jellifer-Bellifer Cassidy,” he said when we broke apart. His tail thudded against the duvet.

“Get your fucking ass in that bedroom and get your suit on!” I scolded.

Mash smothered his grin with his palm. “Fine. Help me up then.” He held his arms out and put literally zero effort into standing as I dragged his massive pregnant butt to his feet.

Mash’s suit was bottle green, and custom made from a gorgeous cashmere wool. He wore a matching tie and waistcoat, which very nearly didn’t do up over his gargantuan baby bump. He hadshiny brown leather brogues on, and his sandy-blonde hair was as wayward as ever.

I’d never seen him more beautiful.

“You look handsome,” he said to me after we’d walked down the aisle together and stopped below the floral arch, even though he’d already spied me in my suit when he barged into my room this morning.

We both wore boutonnieres made with eucalyptus and jewel-toned acer leaves—for Mash’s love of trees—and sage and rosemary for my love of cooking. Mash designed all the flower arrangements. This time, Felix and his new best friend Jacob had tied the flowers to the metal structure. I’d given them strict instructions to fix the two bald sunflowers to the centre, which is where they proudly sat. They caught Mash’s eye the moment we came to a stop. His brow furrowed, and a tear rolled down his cheek, but he smiled.

His entire pack had pitched in to help the day go off without a hitch. Zach and Kai took charge of the stationery and invites, Kimmy made mini wooden love spoons as favours for our guests, I baked and decorated the cake, Juno was the sassiest flower girl to have ever graced the planet, and Clem organised all the food.

We would have bangers and mash later—because what else would we eat?—and cider from the local orchards, and Sean’s friends’ band was going to play acoustic “hipster-drivel” covers of all Mash’s favourite songs.

Neither of us wrote our own vows. Mash couldn’t think of anything more eloquent to say than“I really fucking love you,”and I couldn’t condense everything I wanted to tell him into two paragraphs.

We kissed under the arch and were pronounced as “mated,” and everybody cheered and showered us in petals. Only then could I tear my eyes away from my husband and take in the splendour of the well-wishers. His entire pack, plus most ofthe wolves from the Harvest Fest celebration, his old colleague Sonny and Sonny’s fiancé Claude. Dee-Dee and Riley were there. Riley had turned twenty-five, and the pair had already made their mateship official. Both sported healed bite scars.

Even Giddy was there, looking adorable in his blood-coloured suit. He’d brought a plus one. Some guy who I would’ve assumed to be human if not for his blue skin.

But my eyes fell upon two people standing at the end of the aisle away from the crowds. My smile dropped in an instant.

“Mum, Dad . . . I thought you couldn’t make it?” I said, as I accepted an awkward as fuck air kiss from Mum and a stare down from Dad. “You RSVPed no.”

“We couldn’t miss our only son’s wedding now, could we?” Mum said.

“It’s not a wedding, it’s a mating ceremony,” I replied.

“Of course,” Mum said. She gave a tittering laugh.

I couldn’t work out if she meant it to be condescending, or if I’d just become accustomed to the way Mash and his pack loved. It made my parents “love” feel forced . . . too fake.

“Congratulations,” she said, her mouth still tight.

“So, you did it then. You married the werewolf?” Dad said. A question and yet not a question.

---