Page 41 of The Bear's Matchmaking Mix-up Mate
Wren’s heart swelled to the point of bursting. She searched his face, finding nothing but honest adoration and absolute certainty. The truth of his words shone in his eyes, unmistakable and unwavering.
“I love you, too,” she whispered back, her voice catching on the words. She ducked her head, pressing her face against his chest as emotion overwhelmed her. His arms tightened around her, holding her close as a shuddering breath moved through her body.
Never had she felt so exposed, so vulnerable. And yet, there was no fear, no urge to hide or retreat. She wanted to stay like this forever.
But then his phone buzzed from where he’d placed it on the nightstand. He glanced at it but didn’t reach for it.
“Do you need to get that?” she asked.
He groaned. “I know what it is.”
“That bad, huh?” she asked, intrigued as to what he was trying to avoid.
“I am supposed to meet Alfie at the garden center to talk over the fundraiser.” He kissed her shoulder. “But I don’t want to leave you.”
“Go,” she urged, although she didn’t want him to. “I don’t want to get off on the wrong foot with your family when we tell them I am your mate.”
“Does that mean you are ready to tell them?” he asked, pulling her closer.
“I am,” she said with a nod.
“Yes,” Finn said happily. “It’s been so hard keeping my mate a secret.”
“My mate,” she said with a wide smile.
“My only mate,” he added, kissing her lips.
“Well, your mate is feeling inspired this morning. So, you go meet with Alfie, and I am going to write a song or two. Maybe even three.” “
“Three! You are inspired.” Finn pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I wonder why.”
“You know why,” she murmured and then, teasingly, pulled the covers back and gave him a push. “But if you don’t go now, I don’t think either of us is going to get anything done.”
“I could call in sick,” Finn suggested as he slipped out of bed and grabbed his clothes.
“So tempting.” She rested her hands on her chin as she watched him dress.
“Is that a yes?” he asked as he retrieved his phone from the nightstand.
“No. Now.” She giggled. “The sooner you go, the sooner you can come back.”
“Oh, I’ll be back,” he assured her as he leaned down and kissed her lips before groaning and striding to the door.
She lay still, listening to his footsteps on the stairs, then the sound of the door opening and closing before his truck rumbled to life. As he drove away, she was tempted to text him and tell him to come back. But she resisted the urge. She needed time to process what had happened. And the best way to do that was with her guitar.
She sprang out of bed, eager to get to the studio. After a cup of coffee and a quick breakfast, Wren showered and dressed, then made her way to her studio. Sunlight spilled across the floor, warming the wooden boards beneath her bare feet. She settled at the window seat, guitar in hand, and closed her eyes.
The melody came first, bright and buoyant, rising like the morning sun. Words followed, tumbling over each other in their eagerness to be heard. She scribbled them in her notebook, crossing out and revising, playing the same progression over and over until it felt right.
This wasn’t like the song she’d written for Finn, that one had been about finding courage, about walls coming down. This was pure joy, unfiltered and unafraid. A love song, yes, but also a declaration of freedom. Of finally becoming who she was always meant to be.
For a long while she lost herself in the music, forgetting everything but the joy of creation, the ache of her fingers, the pure delight of finally finding her voice again.
Wren was so lost in the music that when her phone buzzed on the desk, it made her actually jump. She reached for it absently, expecting a message from Finn. Instead, a social media notification lit up the screen:
“Bear Creek Community Garden Fundraiser announces special guest star appearance! Don’t miss this year’s biggest event! Details coming soon!”
Wren’s breath caught in her throat. She tapped the notification, scanning the post with growing unease. There were no specific details—no name mentioned—but her pulse quickened all the same. The words “special guest star” seemed to pulse on the screen, accusatory in their vagueness.
