“Yes, we did. Let’s just hope it pays off,” Adam said.
“It will,” I said around a smile. “I have a good feeling about it.”
“Hey.” Adam tapped me on the shoulder. When I turned to him, he pointed. “Look up.”
I did, only to see a sprig of mistletoe hanging above the door. I grinned, my heart skipping beats as Adam leaned in and kissed me, soft and sweet and proper.
I melted into it, fisting my hands in his sweater and dragging him closer. He tasted of cider and spices, and in that moment, I was on top of the world.
“Merry Christmas, kitten,” Adam murmured.
“Merry Christmas, my love,” I replied, a little breathless. “Let’s make next year a year to remember.”
59
ADAM
We cutthe tape and officially opened Bixby’s Diner on February 10th—and to our surprise and pleasure, it was a huge hit. Word spreads fast in a small town and soon, business was booming.
In fact, we were so busy that all thoughts of kids were pushed to the wayside. We hired a team of cooks and waitstaff, who all seemed fairly excited to be working with us, and together, we worked our tails off.
As it turned out? Running a business was hard work. Night after night, Fletcher and I came home exhausted, collapsing into bed together after showering off the smell of grease.
As the months flew by, I couldn’t help but worry that our love was rusting a little. Changing. No longer the bright and shining star it once was.
But maybe it was because we were so busy. Maybe it was because we’d put our whole hearts and souls into Bixby’s, working overtime to get the business off the ground. It wasn’t even a year old yet.
Except when I tried to think of ways to spice things up again, my thoughts landed on Tank and the darkness that haunted mydreams. I touched the scar on my throat and closed my eyes to try and repress a shiver.
No. The adventures we used to have were in the past. I couldn’t lose Fletcher. I couldn’t risk it again.
Maybe love simply changed as you got older.
Why, then, did it feel like there was still a missing piece?
I should’ve been happy. I’d broken free of my family’s chains. I was married to a beautiful Omega and we were fairly wealthy and running a business that seemed to have a promising future.
What more could I possibly want?
This just wasn’t where I thought my life would be when I met Fletcher eight years ago, and I knew that it wasn’t where Fletcher had hoped he’d be, either.
We’d both wanted babies, a family, maybe a puppy to raise alongside our kids. Now we had a restaurant and a pack, and hearts that still felt strangely empty.
I’d meant what I said to Fletcher before, though—we would adopt a shifter child later down the line, a little boy or girl who was overlooked and unwanted, one who needed the love and affection we could freely give.
One day, our home would be full.
Right now, Bixby’s needed our undivided attention. And in the meantime, I would do what I could to keep the spark alive in the bedroom, because I loved Fletcher Rose with every fiber of my being, and that was never going to change.
60
FLETCHER
Last Year
It wasearly August when I began noticing a skinny blond-haired guy hanging around outside Bixby’s.
Every day, around mid-morning until late afternoon, he showed up and sat at one of the tables, at our outdoor dining area, beneath the shade of the umbrella, and wrote in a scruffy notebook.
