Page 28 of The Witch's Werewolf
Instinctually, I draw her into my lap in one of the empty cozy chairs.
“Are you having second thoughts about us, Cherry?”
She thinks for an agonizing minute. The clock on the wall ticks. Morgan drinks her tea. Finnegan and Alma, oddly, are talking in low tones in a dark, safe corner. Weird. I thought they hated each other.
Meanwhile, my heart is beating like a drum. I can barely breathe.
Finally, Cherry speaks. “I meant what I said,” she says. “I want to be with you, and I accept you as my mate and my protector. But I have to be able to continue my craft.”
“Of course,” I say.
She hooks one arm around my shoulders. I take her tea and set it on the end table.
“Does this fated mates thing really mean forever? Like, forever-forever?”
I nod. “If you’ll have me.”
“Will our children be…you know…half werewolf or something?”
We both look at Morgan. “It’s hard to say,” says the older woman. “You won’t know until they reach adulthood.”
Cherry’s thoughtful for another moment.
“If that’s a dealbreaker for you, I understand. I’ll leave you alone,” I say, knowing how that existence will curse me far worse than the werewolf curse itself.
“No,” she says, meeting my gaze. “It’s not a dealbreaker. We’re bonded now. Whatever happens, happens. I want to be with you and that’s all that matters.”
“I want you to be sure. You’re going to have to deal with three days of unpredictable behavior every month,” I remind her.
She, Alma, and Morgan all laugh.
“Well,” Cherry says, “maybe our cycles will match up and we’ll both be ungovernable at the same time.”
I can be a bit dense sometimes, but eventually I understand the joke.
“I didn’t want to say this in front of a whole audience, but I love you, Cherry Woodbury.”
We share a soft kiss, sealing one to the other forever.
She smiles. “I love you, too, Timber Hawkins. But don’t think this means you can stop buying candles every week. You’re helping to keep the store afloat.”
Her eyes sparkle, and I’m ready for everyone to leave so that we can ravish each other once again.
“I wouldn’t dream of it. I’ll even bring the coffee.”
Epilogue
Cherry
Tenlater
There areno secrets in our family.
Together, Timber and I have broken the cycle of denial, judgment, and keeping children in a box.
“Daddy! Daddy! I’m a werewolf! Grrr,” says six year old Jack, our son when Timber appears on the porch.
"Hold still, Jack,” I say to the excited little boy. “I’m not finished painting on your whiskers.”
