Page 111 of The Knotheads Next Door
The Welcome Committee, as I still think of them, has become a central part of my life outside the pack. Weekly wine nights, impromptu baking sessions at Lala's, quiet afternoons reading in Avianna's bookstore alcove, helping Billie with the daycare children on busy days. A circle of friendship that expanded toinclude me so seamlessly it's hard to remember a time when I didn't have them in my life.
"Tell Lala if she sends you home with more of those pink monstrosities she calls cupcakes, I'm banning her from the house," Jasper threatens without heat.
"You ate six of them last time."
"Under protest. And with severe sugar-induced regret."
I laugh, stealing another kiss before heading out. "Sure. I'll be sure to tell her that."
The day passes in a blur of flower arrangements, deliveries, and wedding consultations. By afternoon, I'm ready for a break and find myself walking toward the cafe where I've agreed to meet my mother. These coffee dates have become a bi-weekly occurrence—sometimes awkward, sometimes tense, but increasingly comfortable as we navigate our new relationship.
She's already there when I arrive, two cups of coffee on the table. "I ordered your usual," she says, pushing one toward me as I sit.
"Thanks." I wrap my hands around the warm mug, still finding it strange to be sitting across from my mother as equals, as adults with a complicated shared history but separate lives.
"How's the pack?" she asks, genuine interest in her voice.
"Good. Busy. Theo's talking about expanding the clinic, Jasper's building something new every week, and Wells's juggling three different festival committees."
"And you? Are you happy?"
The question is simple but loaded with meaning. With history. With all the years she watched me struggling to find my place, to understand my own biology, to feel comfortable in my skin
.
"I am," I tell her, the truth of it settling warm in my chest. "It's not always easy. Four people with strong personalities, trying to build something. But it's... right. It feels right."
She reaches across the table, squeezing my hand briefly. "That's all I've ever wanted for you, Rowan. For you to find where you belong."
"I know." And I do know that now, in a way I couldn't understand when I first learned about James, about the omissions and half-truths that shaped my childhood. "Dad said you had lunch with James last week."
She nods, a flicker of old guilt crossing her face before she pushes it away. "We did. It was... not as awkward as I expected. He asked about you."
I've met my biological father twice now—careful, neutral meetings in public places with Theo and Wells by my side for moral support, Jasper was much too growly for either meeting. It's still strange, still complicated, but there's a tentative connection forming. Not father-daughter, exactly, but something unique to our particular situation.
"I might call him next week," I say, the decision forming as I speak. "Maybe invite him to dinner eventually. With my guys."
Her eyes widen slightly. "That's a big step."
"It is," I agree. "But I'm trying this new thing where I stop running from complicated emotions and difficult relationships."
She laughs, the sound so familiar it aches. "How's that working out for you?"
"Better than expected," I admit with a smile. "Turns out facing things head-on isn't actually as terrifying as I thought."
We talk for another hour, about her life, about Pops and Dad, about the trip they're planning to Europe next year. It's not perfect, this reconstructed relationship. There are still moments of tension, of hurt that flares unexpectedly. But it's healing, slowly, in its own imperfect way.
By the time I get home that evening, the house is quiet. Theo's working late at the clinic, and Wells has a later meeting with the mayor. I find Jasper in the living room, Gerald curled in his lapas he reviews building plans on his tablet that look suspiciously like my dream greenhouse.
"Hey. I thought you'd be drowning in prosecco and gossip by now. What happened to girls' night?"
Jasper looks up at me, he smiles and my heart flutters in my chest.
"Got cancelled. Avi's not feeling well again."
His big palm reaches for Gerald's head, mindlessly scratching as his eyes flash back to his device.
"Hmmm. She need anything?"
