Page 27 of Eager Beaver
The music changed tempo, indicating that it was time for me to get to the altar, and I carefully pried Martha off my chest and passed her over to John, though she barely seemed to notice the change in whose chest she was sobbing into. My shirt had two large wet patches, smeared with my future mother-in-law’s eye makeup, and I laughed, before buttoning my jacket over top.
It wasn’t a fancy affair by any means. In our eyes, we were already joined forever as mates, but this was an important step in the eyes of the government, and I had no qualms tying myself to Fable in every way possible. We’d chosen to have the ceremony in Fable’s parents’ backyard, with rows of folding chairs and a rose-adorned trellis serving as an altar, right by the birdbath. We’d invited just a few family members, including Fable’s siblings and their children, and my own parents had made the trip from home. Pierre and his mate Olivier, too, had been invited because it only seemed right to invite the Alpha couple, and he’d been so excited to witness the human tradition that he'd gotten himself ordained online, just so he could get a front-row seat.
“Are you ready?” Pierre asked me in French, and I nodded. I would be ready for anything when it came to my mate.
Pierre turned up the volume on the Bluetooth speaker, indicating to Fable that it was time. The crowd’s muttering died down as the house’s back door opened, and I got my first sight of my husband-to-be. Suddenly, I understood Martha’s urge to cry. This was it, the moment I married my best friend, my lover,my mate. He was my forever, and even though the rings that bound us in marriage were no more permanent than our mating bond, it felt momentous in a whole new way. My eyes stung, tears trickling down into my beard as Fable walked toward me, and I wiped them hastily on the back of my hand. He looked so handsome in a navy tuxedo, the button of his jacket left undone to leave room for his burgeoning stomach. Instead of a bouquet, he carried the stuffed beaver he’d given me for Christmas, as if he wanted to include my beast as well. The sentiment even had my beaver getting a little misty-eyed.
Fable walked up the aisle, eyes trained on me the whole time, until he came to stand at my side. I took his hand and squeezed it hard. “You look so beautiful,” I whispered, reverent.
“You do too,” he said, but then his eyes darted down to where my jacket couldn’t quite cover his mother’s colorful tear stains. He giggled, and it was the most magical sound. Some grooms might’ve gotten upset that something wasn’t perfect on their wedding day, but I had a feeling the sky could’ve opened up and poured rain on us and he would’ve laughed all the same.
Pierre turned down the music, until the only sound was Martha’s sniffling as she blotted her eyes with handfuls of tissue. John held her tight, beaming, and I was a witness to the way they’d taught Fable how to love, by example.
Alpha cleared his throat, grinning, and when he spoke, it was authority that everyone must’ve felt, no matter their species. “We are gathered here today to tie these two mates with a breakable human vow. It is truly my honor to perform this curious rite, in the hopes of understanding the custom.”
His words caused some confusion in the crowd, but Pierre seemed unaware and went forward with the ceremony as planned.
I had no frame of reference for what constituted a beautiful wedding, never having attended one before, but itfeltbeautiful.All the tears spilled were with joy, and there was no shortage of love and happiness. After we both said, “I do,” to great applause and with an extra wail of “My baby boy!” from Martha, all our family and friends came forward to hug us both, offering their heartfelt congratulations. And then the party truly began.
Parties at the lodge tended to involve a lot of food, followed by taking our fur, so just in case he didn’t know that wasn’t allowed, I made sure to mention it to Pierre. “No shifting allowed,” I hissed discreetly in French as he descended on the dessert table with great abandon, loading up plates for himself and Olivier.
He waved me off. “Who do you think I am?” he replied with an eye roll, before taking his food out back to the patio where everyone was mingling, but I noticed that he never specifically agreed, so I set my parents to keep an eye on him.
“Don’t you worry, dear,” Mom said, giving me yet another back-cracking hug. “You just go and dance with your husband. We’ll handle the rest.”
So that was exactly what I did. I caught Fable around the waist from behind and kissed his shoulder through his suit, right over where I knew my bite mark was. “Care to dance, Mr. Charpentier?” I asked, my voice a full octave lower as need settled into my core. It was a good thing I was pressed to him so no one could see what calling him that did to me.
Fable knew, though, and he arched his hips back to rub against me. “I would love to, Mr. Charpentier.”
I laced our fingers, the feel of my new ring like a brand on my heart, declaring that I was irrevocably his. The sun was sinking behind his mother’s lilac bush, painting the backyard gold and burnishing Fable’s flushed cheeks with a rosy glow. He was stunning, and I still couldn’t believe he was all mine. Leading him out to the makeshift dance floor on the patio, I brought him as close to me as his stomach would allow and began to sway tothe music. The whole day had been surreal, like something out of my dreams.
“I forgot how good you are at this,” he said. “Is it a shifter thing?”
“What do you think?” I asked, gesturing with my chin to where Pierre was shaking his moneymaker, even though the slow ballad didn’t call for the shaking of any body parts.
Fable laughed, shaking his head in utter disbelief. “Forget I said anything.”
The song shifted into another slow dance, and he leaned in to rest his head against his chest. I vowed that I would dance with my mate, my husband, every day for the rest of our lives, just like this.
I felt Fable’s laugh more than I heard it, and he whispered, smirking, “Don’t look now, but I think we’re being watched.”
And even though he’d told me not to, I obviously turned to look back. Of course we were being watched. Every single eye was on us as we took our first dance as a married couple. My eyes, though, snagged on the camera angled at us, the click of the shutter as the photographer caught every memory on film.
It wasn’t just to immortalize this moment for us, unfortunately. It was also in case immigration wanted proof that this wasn’t a marriage of convenience for the sake of citizenship. We needed to appear madly in love, but it just so happened that there was nothing staged about the way Fable looked at me. His blue eyes were soft and warm, and I was sure I looked at him the same way. My heart was not just full, it wasoverflowing. Anyone who looked at us would know without a doubt that this was true love. Fated love.
19
Fable
AssoonasIwas granted a temporary visa, I quit my job. I’d had no great attachment to the place, beyond the barely-there strands of friendship I’d built with a couple of my coworkers and the paycheck that it provided, so I was more than happy to hand in my notice. And while I thought I’d prepared myself for my boss’s reaction, expecting anger or maybe frustration, he’d thrown me off when he grinned a wide and genuine smile. “Finally!” he barked with a clap.
“W-What? You’re… happy I’m leaving?” I sounded hurt, because honestly, though I was glad to leave, I thought someone here might miss me at least a little.
“Happy for you,” he clarified, standing from his chair to round the desk, offering his hand to shake. “I can’t imagine living apart from my husband, and I was starting to worry you would have your baby before the paperwork went through. You deserve to be with him, and those photos of the remote cabin you posted on your blog look like a special kind of heaven. You’re a lucky man.”
I blinked a few times. “You… follow my blog?” Just when I thought this interaction couldn’t get weirder.
“Of course! Your recipes have been a big hit at home. You’re very talented. Those maple pecan tarts weremwah! Chef’s kiss. Have you ever considered publishing a cookbook? Because I would absolutely buy one.”
