Page 35 of One Night with the Werewolf
“Sorry. But I’ve always been honest with you, haven’t I?”
With a reluctant sigh, he answers, “Yeah.”
“I will say that I’m the happiest I’ve ever been. Not that you asked.”
My son is quiet as he picks up another wing and eats it. Finally, after wiping his hands again, he speaks.
“I can tell. Mom’s gonna lose it when she finds out, though.”
I shrug. “Oh well. I can wolf out with Emelia like I never could with her.”
Jason’s brows rise. “She doesn’t mind that you’re a werewolf?”
“Not at all.” I don’t go into detail about how much she likes it when I ruthlessly fuck her in the woods.
“I can’t believe you’re gonna have a baby,” Jason says, shaking his head. “I’m going to get a… half-sibling? At twenty-seven? Fucked up, man.”
“Yeah, kinda.” I take a swig of my own beer, which tastes great because I haven’t been drinking around Emelia while she’s pregnant. “But sometimes that’s how it shakes out.”
“Crazy world. Well, I’ll come for Christmas, I guess.”
I reach across the table to slap him on the shoulder. “Good. Thank you.”
He pushes my hand away. “Whatever.”
EMELIA
No, my parents are not happy when they find out about Roscoe and the baby. And I still haven’t told them he’s a werewolf.
But that feels like our private business.
Natalie was, to my surprise, more understanding. We spent a long night talking about what Jason had done, how it all ended up like this, and why Roscoe is the best thing to ever happen to me.
“It seems like you found love in a truly unexpected place,” my older sister says. “Well, I’m happy for you, Em. I’ll come out for the wedding. When is it?”
“The baby is due in April, and we’d like to get married before that—so February.”
“I can’t believe it,” Natalie says, sighing. “My little sister, having a baby. Excited to see you. I’ll be there for the bachelorette party.”
The first thing my parents do is hop on a plane to come visit. My dad is all huff and bluster when he arrives, but as always, Roscoe is disarming—unfailingly polite while also gruff, charming as much as he is understated. Before any of us knows it, Roscoe’s showing my dad out to the garage and his 1970s project car, and they both start bonding over the slick paint job and repaired leather seats.
Mom inspects every corner of the house in the meantime, then pulls me aside.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” she asks, using that concerned mom voice I know so well. “There are other options.He seems like a good guy, but he’s twenty years older than you are.”
I shake my head vigorously. “Mom, I love him. I love him so much, more than I thought possible.”
She cocks her head. “Really? That much?”
“I’m… I’m really excited to have a baby with him.” I put my hand over my stomach, even though there’s not even a bump there yet. “I want to do life with him.”
She sighs, but I think she understands when she pulls me in for a hug. “Fine. Dad and I will split the cost of the wedding with you. Okay?”
“Thanks, Mom.”
It’s not Roscoe’s first wedding, so he wanted something small and private. I’m not against that, of course—but once upon a time I did dream of having a princess wedding with flowers and a fancy church, so he agrees to a middle ground without much fuss.
Then we start decorating the house for the baby’s arrival. We cover the old paint in what used to be Jason’s bedroom with fresh paint in a soft, sunny color, getting it all over ourselves and each other. Now, everything seems to be forgiven between Roscoe and Jason, and Jason comes over on the weekend to help us assemble the crib and hang up mobiles.
