Page 109 of Knot Your Karma
I take one last look in the mirror—cream silk catching the morning light, pearl earrings that belonged to Grandma Rose gleaming softly, the antique compass pendant Sterling gave me as an early bonding gift nestled at my throat like a talisman. I look like someone who belongs at the center of something beautiful.
“I’m ready.”
“Good, because I think if Reed has to wait much longer, he’s going to reorganize your entire kitchen out of nervous energy.”
We head downstairs, where my pack waits in the living room looking as if they stepped out of a winter formal magazine. Declan in charcoal wool that makes his shoulders look impossibly broad, Reed in navy blue that brings out his eyes, Adrian in deep forest green that complements his quiet strength—all of them wearing expressions of wonder when they see me.
“Jesus,” Reed breathes, ocean spray going warm with appreciation and love, his composure cracking completely. “Karma, you look...”
“Perfect,” Adrian says quietly, his voice rough with emotion. “Just... perfect.”
“Beautiful,” Declan adds. “Like everything I didn’t know I was waiting for.”
“You guys clean up pretty well yourselves,” I say.
“Ready for this?” Declan asks, offering me his arm with the kind of steady certainty that’s anchored me through every crisis.
“More than ready. Let’s go make some promises.”
The walk to lighthouse point feels like a dream sequence—winter air crisp against my cheeks while our scents trail behind us like ribbons. Christmas lights twinkling from everyhouse we pass, the sound of our footsteps on cobblestones mixing with distant harbor bells. The whole town lines our path—children pressed against windows leaving breath-fog prints on glass, elderly couples standing in doorways with hands clasped together, people calling out congratulations from their doorways, which should feel overwhelming but actually makes me feel like the entire town decided we’re worth celebrating, lights glimmering in the twilight.
When we reach the point, my feet stop moving without conscious decision, vanilla going breathless with wonder as I take in the transformation of our simple lighthouse into something that belongs in fairy tales.
Reed wasn’t exaggerating about planning the most impressive reception this town has ever seen. The lighthouse itself is wrapped in warm white lights that make it glow like a beacon of welcome against the December sky, each bulb perfectly positioned to create maximum warmth without overwhelming the natural beauty.
Someone arranged chairs in a perfect circle around a central space where four posts stand draped with evergreen garlands and silk ribbons that flutter gently in the breeze. Heat lamps positioned strategically throughout the gathering ensure everyone will be comfortable despite the winter air, their warmth creating small havens of comfort.
“Reed,” I whisper, my scent sparkling with gratitude and amazement, “this is incredible.”
“Wait until you see the reception setup at the inn,” he says with obvious satisfaction. “I may have gotten slightly carried away with the planning.”
“Slightly,” Adrian agrees with dry humor. “You coordinated with vendors like a diplomatic summit.”
“Some things deserve to be done properly,” Reed defends. “Our omega’s bonding ceremony is definitely one of them.”
People are already gathering—familiar faces from MainStreet, customers from the shop, friends who’ve become family over the years I’ve lived here. But it’s the sight of our actual families that makes my throat tight with emotion.
Adrian’s mother stands near the front of the circle, a sturdy woman with graying hair and her son’s gentle eyes, talking animatedly with what must be Reed’s parents and siblings. Her presence carries the same quiet strength as Adrian’s sandalwood, mixed with maternal pride that’s almost visible. Declan’s parents have claimed seats on the other side, his father looking uncomfortable but present, his mother dabbing at already teary eyes with a handkerchief.
And there, near the lighthouse itself, Sterling stands in deep conversation with a woman I barely recognize beneath all the glitz and glam.
“Mom,” I breathe, breaking away from my pack to cross the space between us.
There’s Mom, looking absolutely gorgeous in that sea-glass dress I helped her pick out last month. Her silver hair is actually styled instead of in her usual messy bun, and she’s got that nervous-excited energy she gets when she’s trying to make a good impression on Sterling.
“My beautiful girl,” she says, her voice breaking on the last word as she pulls me into a hug that smells like the lavender soap from my childhood mixed with something new—hope that’s been tended for thirty years. “Look at you. Look at this place, these people, this celebration.”
“I’m so glad you’re here,” I say into her shoulder, tears blurring my vision as relief floods through me.
“I wouldn’t miss this for anything. Besides,” she pulls back with a smile that’s pure mischief, “someone needed to make sure Sterling didn’t get too nervous about officiating his first bonding ceremony.”
“How are things... between you two?”
“Tentative. Hopeful. Thirty years of missed chances don’tdisappear overnight, but...” She glances toward Sterling, whose hands still move to straighten his tie when she looks at him—a nervous gesture that’s apparently survived thirty years, making him look less like a successful collector and more like the boy who gave her a compass watch. “We’re taking it slowly. Figuring out who we are now instead of who we were then.”
“I’m happy for you. Both of you.”
“I’m happy for you too, sweetheart. These men of yours—they look at you as if you hung the moon.”
