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She didn’t look like she was wearing a costume.

She looked like my future.

My lungs forgot what their job was. My chest ached like I’d taken a punch from the inside out. I blinked too fast, throat tight.

She frowned. “Hey… are you okay?”

I cleared my throat and waved a hand in the air, grasping for some kind of joke to cover the spiral. “Yeah. No, it’s just… what the hell are they burning in here? Sage? Rose petals? My allergies are staging a coup.”

Her mouth twitched into a half-smile. She turned to the mirror. Twirled a little.

God, she looked perfect. She looked like she should have been mine already. She looked like the life I could’ve had if I hadn’t screwed everything up a long time ago.

But she wasn’t mine. If she was, she’d have stopped this ridiculous act and told me she wanted it for real.

She hadn’t. So, I played my part.

“I’ll take it,” I said when the saleswoman reappeared.

Maggie gaped at me. “Seriously?”

I nodded once. “It’s the one.”

I paid while she changed back into her real clothes. I didn’t look at the receipt. I’d pay double if it meant I got to see her in that dress again.

We walked out of the shop together, the sun dipping low between the buildings. She held the garment bag like it was something fragile. I offered to carry it. She let me.

That small gesture—letting me help—nearly undid me.

As we walked, she took my hand and intertwined our fingers.

I didn’t say anything, but I did commit the moment to memory. I wished it could always be like this. No performances, no politics. Just her and me, walking home. Existing in the same space, hearts beating in sync.

If things had been different… If I hadn’t propelled us into this whirlwind of fake dating… If we hadn’t experienced the pack pressures and the staged ceremonies…

Would she have chosen me?

I loved Maggie. Not the kind of puppy love I used to roll my eyes at. Not lust. Not affection. Not convenience. I loved her the way I loved running as a wolf in winter. With my whole body. With bone-deep clarity.

She challenged me. She called me out when I shut down. She made me feel seen when I didn’t want to be.

I’d never wanted someone the way I wanted her.

And I was terrified I was going to ruin it.

As we neared the apartment building, I looked over. Her cheeks were pink from the cold. When she’d stepped out of the changing room, she’d looked like a bride. She’d looked like a lie.

If I lost her, I wouldn’t recover.

Not from this.

But I didn’t say any of that. I opened the door for her and followed her inside.

I pretended everything was exactly the way it was supposed to be.

26

ROMAN