Page 45 of Room 1212

Jordan found a corner to breastfeed Kris while we finished off our bingo night. Roger won the next round, snatching up that IOU so fast. He was going to gloat about that one for weeks, I was sure of it. Betty took the cookies, and since we ended up with a bonus round, thanks to Jordan’s prize, Davis ended up coming up with the final win to get himself a bag of chips that was nearly as big as his torso.

“Take that, suckers!” he boasted with a maniacal laugh. “This was the prize I wanted all along.” He then opened the bag and proceeded to share it with the others.

It was bedtime, so some of the volunteers helped the residents to their rooms, and we folded up the tables and stacked them away until next time. Finally, my shift was over, and it was time to go home with my family. Kris was thoroughly exhausted by the evening’s activities and had gone limp in Jordan’s arms.

We headed out to our car in the parking lot, hand in hand. “So, did you get a lot of writing done tonight?” I asked, laughing.

Jordan smiled wistfully. “No, I couldn’t concentrate for some odd reason.”

“Well, I was thinking that maybe you might like a writer’s retreat, some time to yourself. I could book you a room at The Scarlet Hotel, and you could get a massage, room service…” I stopped when we reached the car, and I opened the back door where Kris’s car seat was anchored.

Jordan was frowning. “You want me to leave?”

“Not leave, darling. Take a break. You’re working yourself ragged trying to juggle everything.” I took Kris from his arms and strapped him into his seat.

“But… this is the exact reason I told the publisher no short deadlines. I didn’t want to have to rush anymore. My family comes first, and if that means it takes me twice as long to write a book, then so be it.” He wrapped his arms around my waist as I stood up and closed the car door. “Besides, you are my inspiration, and I can’t possibly write without my muse.”

I nuzzled into his neck, pressing kisses upward until I reached his ear. As I traced his earlobe with the tip of my tongue, goosebumps rose across his throat, and I heard his breath hitch. “I’m feeling pretty inspired myself this evening,” I said, my voice laced with promise.

“How inspired, exactly…?” he asked, his voice quivering. “Like, whipped-cream inspired?”

“I was thinking more along the lines of fuzzy handcuffs and a blindfold.”

“And ice cubes?” He pressed himself against me so I could feel his hard cock against mine.

“Deal.” I slapped his ass. “Let’s hurry so we can get Kris to sleep quick. I won’t wait all night.” This was totally false. I would wait for my omega for forever.

Jordan scurried around to the passenger side, and we headed home. I held his hand in mine the whole way. He was my true love, my fated mate. He was everything the romance novels promised and more.

He was my happily ever after.

Epilogue

The Staff

Patrickwasthoroughlybored,but he didn’t mind in the least. The mind-numbing routine of his job—dusting, vacuuming, laundering—he could do it all in his sleep by now, and that meant he could allow his imagination to wander.

He hadn’t set out to be an author. Sure, it had sounded like a fun dream to have when he was a kid, but his parents had always warned him that it was difficult to make a living with it, so he had brushed the passing fancy aside in favor of working a job with a guaranteed paycheck. But… after meeting Jordan Kepler, he’d found that the tiny spark inside him was rekindled.

It wasn’t a job, and it wasn’t a paycheck—but he found that it didn’t have to be. It wasfun!

In the evenings, when he got home from work, he sat down at his computer and wrote a paragraph or a page—or even just a single sentence, if that was all he had energy for. He’d even taken to carrying a small notebook in his pocket for when inspiration struck. Sooner than he could’ve imagined, he found he had whole chapters of a story written, and those chapters turned into a novel! He hadn’t decided what to do with it yet. He had no experience with the publishing industry, but it seemed really complicated and more than a little overwhelming. Writing the book was only half the battle.

For now, his novel was living on his computer, backed up on a flash drive he kept in his bag. He liked the idea of having it close by at all times, like a security blanket.

It was a random Thursday, nothing special about it, when Patrick’s entire world was upended. He was just coming back from his lunch break. He’d dashed out to the café down the street for a quick bite to eat, but as he was coming back through the lobby, he caught sight of a familiar man headed toward the elevator.

“Jordan Kepler!” he squeaked, and his high-pitched exclamation echoed through the lobby. He was tempted to run after the man, but he’d already drawn the attention of his boss, Monsieur Holland, who was standing behind the front desk.

Patrick cleared his throat and tried to walk through to the back with dignity, even as his heart was thrumming inside his chest.

“Did you have an enjoyable lunch?” Monsieur Holland asked, with a tone of voice that Patrick could swear was suspicious.

“Yes,” Patrick said before pausing. “Thank you.” Was he required to say something else? He decided less was more, then sidled past them toward the back. He didn’t go to the staffroom where his locker was located, though, to change back into his uniform, and he didn’t head downstairs to pick up his workload where he’d left off. Instead, he ducked just out of sight and waited.

Monsieur Holland wouldn’t usually stick around the front unless he was needed—or unless, of course, he was trying to make awkward conversation with the handsome front-desk clerk, Roland, which was exactly what he was currently trying to do. Patrick nearly moaned in frustration at how long this was taking, and their flirting was painful to watch.

At long last, Holland ran out of pleasant conversation and was forced to head back to his office. Patrick slipped back through the door and approached Emily who was running the desk. “Psst! Emily,” he hissed.

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