"It's not—I'm not—" I sputter, but Ruby just grins wider.
"You know what this reminds me of?" She leans back in her chair, looking entirely too pleased with herself. "My 'Hot Knotty Summer' manifesting tips. You remember those?"
I groan. "Ruby, please?—"
"No, hear me out!" She holds up her hands. "I know you think manifestation is woo-woo nonsense, but consider the timing here. Valentine's Day is what—less than five weeks away?"
I do the math in my head. "Something like that."
"That's plenty of time!" Ruby's excitement is building, her hands gesturing wildly as she speaks. "Plenty of time to actually get to know these Alphas. To explore the chemistry. To figure out if this could be something real instead of just an arrangement."
"And how exactly do you suggest I do that?"
Ruby's eyes light up in a way that tells me I'm about to receive an entire lecture's worth of advice whether I want it or not.
"Valentine's Day dates!" she announces like she's just solved world hunger. "Little mini dates with each of them. Get to know them individually, figure out what makes each of them tick. Tank seems like the type who would appreciate something intimate—maybe a cooking class together, or a quiet night in with good food and good conversation. Actually, you could cook for him! You're amazing in the kitchen. Make him a fancy meal, open a bottle of wine, let the evening unfold naturally."
"And Elias?"
"Elias would probably love something more active—ice skating? A hike? Something where you can be playful and competitive." Ruby's eyes light up with another idea. "Oh! A game night. Board games, video games, whatever. Something where you can trash talk each other and see who's really competitive. Firefighters are always competitive—it's in their DNA."
"And Julian?"
Ruby taps her chin thoughtfully. "Julian is trickier. He's got walls up, so you need to find a way to get him to let his guard down. Maybe something related to his interests? You said hedoes investing—maybe a financial planning date sounds boring, but it could be a chance for him to show off and feel comfortable. Or something artsy? Museum? Gallery opening? Those types usually appreciate sophistication." She pauses. "Or—and hear me out—maybe something completely unexpected. Something that throws him off balance in a good way. Take him somewhere he'd never go on his own. Break him out of his comfort zone."
She's actually making sense. Which is annoying, because I wanted to dismiss this whole idea as Ruby being her usual over-the-top romantic self.
"You should write it all down," Ruby continues, her voice taking on that authoritative tone she uses when she's giving advice she considers absolutely essential. "Make a whole list of what you want to do with the pack before Valentine's Day. Things you want to experience. Moments you want to create. Kind of like a vision board, but Valentine's Day pack edition."
"A Valentine's Day pack vision board." I say the words slowly, testing how ridiculous they sound. Surprisingly, they don't sound as ridiculous as I expected.
"Exactly!" Ruby beams. "Write down everything. The dates you want. The experiences you want to have. The feelings you want to explore. Put it all on paper and then make it happen. Include the small stuff too—morning coffee together, watching a movie, going for a walk. The little moments matter just as much as the big romantic gestures."
A vision board. For romance. For pack bonding. For... whatever this is between me and the Late Alphas.
It's actually not a bad idea. I haven't done anything creative like that in a long time—haven't had the mental space or emotional energy to think about what I actually want instead of just surviving day to day. But something about the idea of sitting down with pen and paper and dreaming about possibilities... it sounds nice. It sounds like something the oldme would have done, before my family crushed all the creative joy out of my life.
"That's... actually a pretty good idea," I admit, and Ruby looks so smug I almost take it back. "It would be a nice creative outlet. I haven't done anything like that in a long time."
"See?" She reaches across the table to squeeze my hand. "What do you have to lose? Nothing! You'll get to know them better, have some steamy instances..." She waggles her eyebrows suggestively, making me roll my eyes. "And hey—they might actually end up being your pack for real."
I start to protest, but she cuts me off.
"Look at Hazel," Ruby says, gesturing around the bakery. "She met her Alphas in this crazy whirlwind situation, and now look at her. Thriving business, amazing pack, living her best life. And Reverie! She was a social media influencer who stumbled into the most insane holiday romance situation, and now she's got a pack who adores her."
Ruby leans forward, her blue eyes intense and earnest.
"These things that seem like coincidences? The holiday-invoked situations that throw people together? They have a way of turning into forevers. Hazel and Reverie found their packs through circumstances that seemed temporary or impossible, and now look at them." She pauses for emphasis. "This could be yours too, Rosemarie. Your forever. You just have to be open to the possibility."
My forever. The idea is terrifying and exhilarating in equal measure. I've spent so long running from the idea of pack bonds—associating them with control and ownership and loss of self—that I'd almost forgotten they could be something beautiful. Something chosen. Something built on mutual respect and genuine connection instead of contracts and family politics.
"You're right," I say finally, surprising myself with the conviction in my voice. "What do I have to lose? If it doesn'twork out, I'll find a pack later. And at least my family won't be able to use me once the deal deadline expires and they don't benefit from my 'single' status anymore."
Ruby grins triumphantly. "That's the spirit! Embrace the chaos, enjoy the journey, and for the love of God, let yourself be happy for once."
Let myself be happy. What a novel concept.
We sit in comfortable silence for a moment, sipping our lattes and watching the snow continue to fall outside. The bakery hums with quiet activity around us—the clink of cups, the murmur of conversations, the soft jazz playing through the speakers. Someone orders a cinnamon roll at the counter, and the smell of warm spice drifts over to our table. It's peaceful. Warm. The kind of moment I want to bottle up and keep forever.
