Page 64 of Knot My Type

"Deal," I say immediately. "When?"

"Soon. I was thinking of taking a vacation anyway, and I've always wanted to see the mountains. Plus, someone needs to make sure you haven't been brainwashed by a cult."

"They're not a cult, Becca."

"That's exactly what someone in a cult would say," she points out, but her tone is lighter now, more teasing than concerned. "I love you, you know. Even when you're making decisions that give me heart palpitations."

"I love you too. And I think once you meet them, once you see how they are with me, you'll understand."

"We'll see. In the meantime, please promise me you'll be careful. Don't give up your independence completely, don't let them isolate you from your friends, and for the love of God, don't get pregnant until you're absolutely sure this is what you want."

The last comment makes me laugh, though it also sends a little flutter through my stomach that I choose not to examine too closely. "I promise to be careful. But Becca? I am sure. I've never been more sure of anything in my life."

"Okay," she says, and I can hear the acceptance in her voice even if the worry remains. "I'll try to be supportive. Just give me time to adjust to the idea, okay? This is a lot to process."

"I know. And I'm sorry I worried you. I should have found a way to call sooner."

"You should have. But I guess you were busy." There's a pause, then her voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper. "It is good, right? The sex? Because if you're going to completely upend your life, it better be mind-blowing."

Heat floods my cheeks even though she can't see me. "Rebecca!"

"I'm just saying! Three men, Ellie. That's either the best situation ever or a logistical nightmare. Please tell me it's the first one."

Despite my embarrassment, I find myself smiling. "It's definitely not a logistical nightmare."

"Good. Okay, I should let you go before I say something that traumatizes us both. But call me tomorrow, okay? I want regular updates. And send me pictures of these mysterious mountain men so I can properly stalk them on social media."

"I'll call you tomorrow," I promise. "And Becca? Thank you. For being worried, for caring, for trying to understand even when it doesn't make sense to you."

"That's what friends are for, honey. Even when they make life choices that give me gray hair."

After we hang up, I sit in the quiet kitchen for a few minutes, processing the conversation. It went better than I'd feared but not as well as I'd hoped. Rebecca's concern is understandable, even if her assumptions about my judgment sting. She's seen me make mistakes before, seen me trust the wrong people and make choices based on emotion rather than logic.

But this is different. I can feel the difference in every cell of my body, in every breath I take. This isn't infatuation or rebound romance or some misguided attempt to fix my life through someone else. This is recognition, the deep, bone-deep certainty that I've found my people, my place, my purpose.

The sound of footsteps on the stairs pulls me from my thoughts, and I turn to see Fen padding into the kitchen wearing nothing but a pair of low-slung pajama pants. His hair is tousled from sleep, and there are sheet marks on his cheek that make him look younger, more vulnerable.

"You've been gone a while," he says, moving to stand behind my chair. His hands settle on my shoulders, thumbs rubbing gently at the tension I didn't realize I was carrying. "Everything okay?"

I lean back into his touch, letting his steady presence calm the lingering anxiety from my conversation with Rebecca. "I called my best friend. She was worried about me."

"Ah." His hands still for a moment. "How did that go?"

"She thinks I've lost my mind," I admit with a rueful laugh. "She's convinced I've been brainwashed or traumatized into making bad decisions."

Fen's hands resume their gentle massage, working at the knots in my shoulders with practiced ease. "And what do you think?"

It's such a simple question, but it cuts right to the heart of everything. What do I think? Not what Rebecca thinks, not what society expects, not what some hypothetical rational person might conclude. What do I, Eliana, in this moment, with all my experience and intuition and hard-won wisdom, actually think?

"I think," I say slowly, "that I've spent most of my adult life making decisions based on what other people thought was best for me. Safe decisions, reasonable decisions, decisions that looked good on paper but felt wrong in my heart. And I think maybe it's time I trusted myself to know what makes me happy."

"Even if it looks crazy from the outside?"

"Especially if it looks crazy from the outside." I turn in my chair to face him, struck by the understanding in his hazel eyes. "You get it, don't you? What it's like to have people question your choices just because they don't fit conventional expectations."

His smile is soft and a little sad. "I've spent my whole life being told I'm not alpha enough, not omega enough, just something in between that doesn't quite fit anywhere. So yes, I understand what it's like to have people assume you don't know your own mind."

"But you do know your own mind," I say, reaching up to cover his hands with mine. "You know exactly who you are and what you want. It's one of the things I love about you."

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