Page 19 of Change the Plan
When he rolls us both, the tug of his knot is a pleasurable sting. I sigh, settling against his chest, humming as he squeezes me tight.
“I’m excited for the future,” I whisper.
“Same, baby. I am too.”
EPILOGUE: SAMHAIN
ELLIE
Samhain may be the festival of the dead for local pagans, but for this fae witch, it’s taking on a very different meaning this year.
Five minutes ago I woke to Van brushing the hair back from my face, whispering“Morena, I think you should go take one of those tests you left in the top drawer in the bathroom. Your scent has changed,”and now I’m here, watching the little blue plus appear before my eyes.
A sense ofwhat the hell have we donebegins to overwhelm me.
Van strokes my bare hip, bending to kiss the top of my head. “Well there we go,” he says quietly, our eyes meeting in the bathroom mirror. “Ahakoa he iti, he pounamu.”Although it is small, it is precious.
I set the pregnancy test down, blinking back tears, appreciating my husband and his ability to know exactly what to say.
EPILOGUE: TE MARUAROA O TE RAUMATI — THE SUMMER SOLSTICE
VAN
Nine months later
There’s a flash of amusement through the bond a moment before Ellie spins around, barefoot in the grass as she grins at me from behind her sunglasses. With the evening sun lighting up her long wavy hair like a gold halo, she looks just like a sun goddess in her summer dress, which is fitting, given the date.
“What?” I ask her.
“You know what.” She nods to the adjacent field of grapevines, their leaves currently lush with new growth. “Happy accidental inappropriate proposal anniversary. Or did you forget?”
“I did not. I remember that morning well.” Three years ago I woke early, shifted, and ran a perimeter of the vineyard before noticing Ellie’s presence between the grapevines. I’d shifted back, meeting her in the middle of the field, and had somehow ended up asking her to marry me while two of my fingers were buried in her cunt.
I laugh quietly at the memory, careful not to jostle Mahinarangi. We’re only six days into this parenting gig, and neither of us have figured out how to tie the damn baby wrap carrier correctly, so I’m carrying our tiny daughter in my arms. With my body blocking out the sun, her eyes are open for the moment, her yellow gaze unfocused. There’s not much difference between wolves and humans — and fae, I have to assume — at this stage, and I don’t think she can see much beyond anything directly in front of her face. Still, it doesn’t stop me from pretending that she can. “Where are we?” I ask her. “We’re on the vineyard. And look, there you are in the sky, my little Mahina.”
We hadn’t settled on a name before her birth — instead we’d made a list to choose from that was quickly discarded once she was born. She hadn’t suited any of the names we’d picked, and we’d been discharged from hospital that evening withBaby Livingstonfast asleep in her capsule. It wasn’t until we were back at our holiday home in Titirangi, where we’d been living for two weeks in anticipation of the birth — I wasn’t going to risk us getting trapped here on the island, though I know in an emergency I could always call Mom to make use of her portal magic — that we’d looked up at the rising moon and inspiration had struck.
“Marama means moon, right?”I’d asked Ellie.
“There’s a few different words. I can look it up.”
We’d named our daughter mere minutes later.Mahinarangi.Moon in the sky. I can’t think of a better name for the new centre of my universe.
“You sure you’re okay carrying that?” I ask Ellie now, nodding at the picnic basket slung over her arm. She nods.
“You have no idea how much easiernotbeing pregnant is. Especially after your Mom worked her magic on me.”
Mom sped up Ellie’s healing a few days ago, declaring“We don’t let anyone get prolapses in this family,”as she pressed her hand just above Ellie’s pubic bone, a frown settling on her face as she did so.“I thought you said you didn’t tear?”
I’d watched from across the room as Ellie lay back on the couch, the swell of her stomach no longer a huge mountain but a soft hill under her summer dress.
“They said I didn’t.”
“Well they’re wrong. It’s very minor, but it must be uncomfortable for you at the moment.”
“Yeah, but that’s normal, right?”
“Mm. Normal, maybe, but not something you need to put up with. I’ll get you fixed up. You’ll still bleed — I’m not going to interfere with your uterus, we always let that settle in its own time — but the bruising to your vagina can be healed.”
