Staring at my notebook is not part of my job description, yet I continue to do when I’m supposed to be taking notes. We are working on getting a new summer collection out, featuring accessories such as jewelry and hats instead of shoes. Flora is bubbling with ideas this time around, and she’s sketching better than she ever has before. This also means she’s losing track of time and has had a streak of being constantly late on the days I’m not around.
The design team is going over how realistic Flora’s designs are for shifters. Being a shifter, there is a level of unpredictability that has to be accounted for in the designs of our clothes and accessories. If we shift suddenly, will the necklace choke our animals? Will rings safely pop off or will it damage our paws or whatever body part it is on when we shift? We have to go over these things because Flora tends to forget.
My notebook remains blank, and the guilt of wasting everyone’s time seeps in as we walk back to Flora’s office after the meeting.
“What do you think about the mechanics of press-on nails?” Flora blurts out as she settles in at her desk. “I’m not ready to mention it to the team, not until I can build a strong case on why it’s a good idea.”
“What?” Thrown-off is a state I’m found in often in this office. Flora can be incredibly creative, and I have to be the one to tone her ideas down. Thankfully, Dylan, who apparently still her bodyguard, has joined our makeshift design-police squad.
“Like, do you think press-on nails for shifters is a good idea? We could make them either strong enough to stay on someone in animal form or have them easily pop off when shifting,” Flora explains, sitting back at her desk. Dylan sits in one of her armchairs in front of her desk, and I’m in the other.
“Yeah,” I say, still lost in my thoughts of Ms. Harrow’s words. Milo was my mate. He loved me, and I loved him. Our love was strong enough to be mates. Our scents matched. But I can’t help but wonder why I grew apart from him, even in death. Shouldn’t I be... enraptured by him still? Shouldn’t I still be in love with him even after he’s dead? How can I possibly love another when I already had a mate? Could that even be possible? I can’t dig myself out of the mental hole that’s made everything about me.
“That sounds crazy as hell. Don’t lie to her, Willow,” Dylan says with a smirk on his face. He is only challenging Flora because he thinks she is hot when she argues, but I can’t bite the bait today, or yesterday, or the day before. I let their bickering fall by the wayside in my mind as Milo and Eddie take up my every present moment.
“Willow, darling, what’s going on?” Flora asks, still typing away on her computer.
“Nothing.”
“Willow, come on, what’s wrong? Is it Ghost?” she questions, pulling away from her computer and staring at me straight on. It’s harder to hide things while looking right at her, so I pull up my blank notebook to cover my face.
“No.” Though it should be. I need to focus on the killer after me, not on whether the Moon Goddess loves me enough to give me another mate, or whether my first mate was even my mate.
She raises her eyebrows like a mom would, and suddenly I’m guiltier than I thought possible. I’m supposed to be working on sharing things with my friends, yet here I am, continuing the cycle of hide and deflect.
“I met Eddie’s mom on Monday.” The words tumble out, and it’s more of a relief than anything else.
“How’d that go?” Dylan asks.
“She’s... wonderful.”
“She is, she really is, but I also thinkpushyis the word you’re looking for,” Dylan says, leaning back in his chair. He barks out a laugh as if fond memories of Ms. Harrow are playing in his mind on a slideshow presentation.
“She is sweet and kind, and I’ve never seen her outside of the diner, but last night, she said some things that didn’t sit right with me. She wasn’t rude whatsoever, but I can’t stop thinking about it.”
“Don’t hold back now,” Flora says. My eyes drift from her to a painting behind her.
I’m embarrassed to admit the one truth I’ve only now discovered was obvious to everyone around me.
I’m hurt that regardless of if Milo was my mate or not, I might have a chance at love, and I almost wasted it.
“Milo might not have been my mate, and I won’t ever know for sure because we didn’t seal our bond with a bite.” The words I’ve hidden from are spoken out loud. I breathe more freely as I set the notebook in my hands down, and I stare at Flora and Dylan. They are mates, true mates. They’ve shifted from animal to human, and their bites are still there.
Milo and I could’ve been true mates, but we’ll—I’ll never know.
Maybe I wasn’t supposed to know.
Maybe I’m meant to focus on the present.
“Damn,” Dylan comments, acting as if he’s distracted on his phone, but I’ve known the man long enough to know he is fully aware and attentive to everything around him, even more so around Flora.
“I’m sorry, darling. That wasn’t fair of her to say.”
“It’s not only that she said it.” I can’t believe that I’m even having this discussion out loud, but they are mated; they would know what it’s like. They are so wrapped up in each other that they alternate going to work with each other because the thoughtof being away for a workday’s time is “unnecessary”. They would be the best people to share this situation I’m in. “It’s that what she said might be true.”
Flora looks at me. Really look at me. It almost makes me shrink back into my solitary bubble, but I remain put. I don’t move, and I hardly breathe. I’m here.
“People have doubted our relationship, and every time, I was sure they were wrong,” I say, flushing with frustration at the situation “But I’m not sure he was my soul-destined mate anymore.” I hope I’m not damned to hell after admitting this out loud. We checked off the right boxes: we had the love, we loved each other’s scents, I thought that was all. But finding your fated mate isn’t about checking boxes or having the picture-perfect life. It’s about undying love, and our love died.
