Page 94 of The Cuddle Clause
I slipped the device into my jacket pocket, hiding it from view.
Chapter 24
Maggie
I hadn’t meantto leave the apartment in old sneakers and an oversized hoodie with my hair shoved into a topknot that was probably still crooked. I hadn’t even checked the mirror. I hadn’t even showered. My skin smelled like sleep and Roman’s sheets. My thighs ached in a way that made my knees a little loose and my pulse a little smug.
But the warmth that should have come from that memory—his mouth on my neck, the way his hand had stayed over my heart hours after we were done—felt fragile now. Like if I breathed wrong, it might break.
I wanted more caffeine. And maybe a moment to sit somewhere quiet where no one asked questions, and I didn’t have to figure out what Roman’s silences meant or why the wordmatemade my spine go stiff with nerves. The city was waking up around me, the streets damp from a night fog that hadn’t entirely burned off. The F-line streetcar clattered past behind me, the driver leaning on the bell like it was his personal soundtrack.
Taking Roman breakfast had been risky. I hadn’t even known what this whole thing between us was, and I definitely didn’twant to come across as desperate. But he seemed to take it well and was genuinely glad to see me.
The bell above the coffee shop door chimed as I stepped inside. The aroma of caramel mixed with roasted beans wrapped around me like a warm embrace, and for a second, I could almost pretend everything was normal. The playlist was soft and moody—some acoustic thing that probably had lyrics about heartbreak and city lights—and it made everything feel far away and safe. The windows were fogged at the corners, the view of the street outside blurred, as if the world was giving me permission to hide for a little while.
This was my spot. Pre-Roman, pre-pack, pre-magic pre-spiraling-life-chaos. The tiny shop was tucked on a quieter side street off Market. Tourists passed it without noticing, and here I could sit and sip and breathe without anyone expecting more from me.
I stepped up to the counter, scanning the board even though I always ordered the same thing—Americano with oat milk. Maybe I’d get a croissant. Maybe two. My body still felt worn out from last night, and I had that sleep-deprived, can’t-wipe-this-smirk-off-my-face hangover that came from Roman’s hands mapping me.
That was when I saw Seraphina.
She sat at the window, like the whole city had arranged itself around her. Perfect posture, cream-colored blazer, hair smooth and glossy as if she’d just stepped out of a salon even though it was barely nine in the morning. She held her matcha latte like it was a prop in a Vogue spread.
I turned too fast, my hip catching the pastry case. My hand shot out to steady myself, fingers curling around the cold glass. I ducked my head, eyes locking on a cherry danish I wasn’t going to buy. The clang of the streetcar bell outside felt way too loud, like it was announcing my humiliation.
Please don’t see me. Please don’t see me. Please?—
“Maggie. Hi.”
Too late. I turned, forcing a polite smile. My mouth tasted like nerves and regret. “Seraphina. Hey.”
She looked fresh, rested, radiant in that effortless, Pinterest-board kind of way. I could feel the sweat-stale hoodie clinging to the back of my neck. There might’ve been toothpaste crusted at the corner of my mouth. I could see myself reflected in her pupils: messy, undone, human.
I waited for the mention of our interaction at my kickboxing class. The one where I’d accidentally on purpose landed a solid kick that I knew she’d felt. But she didn’t bring it up. That would’ve been too direct.
Instead, she smiled so sharp and thin it felt like a paper cut. “You must be so excited about tonight.”
My stomach flipped. “Tonight?”
Panic ticked through my brain, flipping through possibilities. Did I forget a dinner? A pack meeting? Was I supposed to host some enchanted event? Roman’s dramatic tarot night?
I forced a bigger smile. More teeth. “Oh. Yes. I can’t wait.”
Seraphina’s lashes fluttered, her smile tightening just enough to show it wasn’t real. Outside, the fog finally began to lift, revealing the slope of the street, the familiar tangle of streetcar cables against the pale morning sky. Her eyes glinted like she knew she had me off-balance.
“Aren’t you scared?” she asked, like it was small talk. “You know... being human and all?”
I frowned. “Excuse me?”
“I heard you and Roman are the headliners at the bonding ceremony tonight. The first to get bitten. Don’t worry.” Her gaze flicked over me, casual as a scalpel. “I’m sure he’ll be gentle.”
She tossed her hair over one shoulder and glided toward the door, her heels clicking against the tile. She stepped out into the street, merging with the swirl of early commuters and tourists.
I stood there, completely still, the smile draining off my face like water through a sieve.
Bonding ceremony?Tonight?
Headliners? First to be bitten?
