Page 120 of Knot Baked Out For This
I stand there, overwhelmed by the casual way they've spent probably thousands of dollars to make me comfortable. The pets have settled into wary coexistence—Whiskey on his cabinet throne, Biscuit exploring, Muffin pretending everyone doesn't exist, and Ember passed out from excitement.
"I don't know what to say."
"Say you'll try on Reverie's clothes," Levi suggests with a grin. "Fashion show!"
"What?"
"You mentioned it before she left," Rowan reminds me, and is he blushing?
Oh god, I did. I suggested a private fashion show. Like some kind of... what was I thinking?
"That's not—I didn't mean?—"
"We could help with photos," Luca offers, voice carefully neutral. "For Reverie. Documentation."
"A nice activity before dinner," Levi adds, waggling his eyebrows.
My face is nuclear. "I wasn't suggesting—I mean, not like, naked or anything?—"
"Hazel." Luca stands, crosses to me in two strides, and before I can panic, he's scooped me up, arms secure around my waist. "We would love to see you try on clothes. Fully clothed. No pressure. Just... fun."
"Fun," I repeat weakly.
"When's the last time you did something just for fun?" Rowan asks gently.
Fun. When did I last have fun? Before Korrin. Before marriage. Before I learned that wanting things led to disappointment.
"Okay," I whisper.
"Okay?"
"Fashion show. But if any of those clothes are ridiculous, you're not allowed to laugh."
"Deal," they say in unison.
Luca sets me down gently, and I gather the bags, heading to my bedroom with legs that feel like jelly.
Private fashion show. For my Alphas. In clothes Reverie picked, which means they're probably gorgeous and completely impractical.
Through the door, I hear them settling on the new couch, discussing dinner plans, and making sure the pets aren't destroying anything.
Domestic. Normal. Like this is our life now—they're in my space, caring for me, buying me furniture, and waiting to watch me model clothes like it's the most natural thing in the world.
I pull out the first outfit—a sweater dress in burgundy that looks soft as sin—and think maybe this is what healing looks like. Not grand gestures, but small moments of trust. Of fun. Of letting myself be cared for without waiting for the catch.
"Ready?" Levi calls through the door.
"Give me a minute! This has complicated straps!"
"Take your time, sunshine. We've got all night."
All night. With my Alphas. In my apartment that now has their cats and their scents and their furniture.
I slip into the dress, look at myself in the mirror, and for the first time in years, I look... happy. Flushed and nervous but genuinely happy.
"Okay," I call, hand on the doorknob. "Ready."
Their collective intake of breath when I walk out makes everything—the chaos, the expense, the vulnerability—worth it.
