Page 54 of Her Second-Hand Mate

“Siegfried doesn’t like tea.”

“Who the hell is Siegfried?” I asked, confused.

“Oh,” she shook her head as if she was dispelling some fog, “me and my friends were looking at pup names and tried choosing the most awful one. Siegfried won, so we’ve been jokingly calling the pup that.”

Another thing I’d missed and had no one to blame for but myself. I was already failing in the father department before he was even born.

“Have you chosen a name yet?” I asked tentatively.

A smile overtook her face, and I couldn’t look away.

“I think so. I’ll know for certain when I see him.”

I wasn’t going to make suggestions. I knew whatever name Penelope picked would be amazing. But my sweet peach couldn’t be cruel to save her life.

“Do you have any names you like?” she asked shyly, and I could tell she'd later berate herself internally for being nice to me after everything.

But she’d never come between a pup and his father.

“Whatever name you love, I’ll love. And I’ll love him no matter what, even if he was called Siegfried,” I said, and I meant it.

I imagined myself holding our pup in my arms, nuzzling him, and later on playing outside with him... Suddenly, fear seized my gut. Oh, Lord. What if I died and abandoned my pup like my father left me? I gripped the counter as hard as I could, and luckily, the marble didn’t crack.

“I need to give you something,” I ground out and jogged up the stairs.

I could feel a confused Penelope following me at a much slower pace. I was an asshole who was making a heavily pregnant she-wolf walk up the stairs for no damn reason. But I was still having trouble breathing, and I needed a distraction.

I rummaged around my walk-in closet until I found some of the letters and threw them on the bed. Then I took out the ones frommy bedside table, and finally, the ones from my still-full suitcase on the floor. Twelve in total.

“As you know, it was our mating anniversary last week, and, well,” I cleared my throat as she observed me from the doorway, giving nothing away, “I’ve been writing you a letter a month. A sort of workaround of the original mating custom.”

I saw her mouth twist with something like disgust at being reminded of never having been given her proper due. Shit. I really dropped the ball on a lot of stuff.

“So, anyways. I mostly wrote them when I was away. It helped me,” I took a deep breath, “miss you less.”

That was hard to admit, but I had to be more open if I wanted her to trust me again. If she was surprised by my admission, she didn’t show it. She took the letters from my hand and went into the nursery. I heard a drawer open and close, and then Penelope went back downstairs. I’d kind of hoped she’d read them immediately. A lot of the things I’d written were things I couldn’t easily say. Which was why I had written them down. Hopefully, she’d read them soon.

I watched her as she ate her breakfast.

“I won’t be traveling so much for work anymore.”

I knew her face well and I could remember a lot of the feelings associated with certain expressions on it, so I could still read her pretty accurately. There was no relief. Instead, she seemed irritated for some reason.

She was eating toast with honey, and I wanted to kiss her to taste it. It made me think of our first kiss, which had been as sweet as Penelope herself. She put the toast down to take a sip of water,and I snatched it from her plate and bit into it before returning it. She glared at me but continued eating.

“When’s your next checkup?”

“Next week.”

“Can I come?”

“Sure,” she shrugged like it didn’t matter to her either way.

“What’s your plan for today?”

“I’m getting coffee for my friends who have exams and dropping it off. Hank's taking me.”

“I can take you.”

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