Time to be a hostess.
As I came downstairs, voices carried to me from the backyard. The scents of grilling meat told me that dinner was well on the way, so I stopped in the kitchen and pulled out all the produce to make a fall-themed salad. I arranged it all in a big wooden bowl and was shaking a walnut oil and cider vinegar dressing to toss it with, when Cypress came in and got a couple of beers out of the fridge.
“You look pretty. Smell good, too.” He gave me a quick kiss and then started for the door. “Oh, did I tell you Birch is the chef we were supposed to meet the other night? He is the chef-owner there. Imagine if he’d been present to come out and greet the guests like he usually does? We’d have met him…mate? What’s wrong?”
My vision had darkened, and I clung to the edge of the counter, trying not to pass out. “Cypress, how long have you known this fun fact?”
“Since this morning? Why?”
If he had to ask, there was no use explaining. My simple grilled meats and salad dinner would have to speak for themselves. Hopefully in a nice voice.
Chapter Eighteen
Cypress
My mate was upstairs in the bath, relaxing. Our bond told me everything her mouth wouldn’t. She was curious about what tonight would bring. My words about not having any expectations had calmed her some, but she was eager to find out what would happen.
I meant what I’d said. I had no expectations at all. Yes, we had the promise we’d made to each other, but I thought we both realized how life threw curveballs in even the best-laid and earnestly promised plans.
I set the table outside and forced my wolf to calm down for not only me but for Zephyr. If I was calm, she would be as well. It was a power I wielded with her happiness and safety in my heart and with the best of intentions for her.
Keeping myself in check would make the night go better.
The doorbell rang, and I cringed.
I had practiced all the ways to greet him and, ultimately, as I opened the door, came up with… “Hey, glad you could make it.” Hadn’t practiced that one, and it came out like Birch was a golf buddy instead of my oldest friend.
I waved him in. He had something in his hands, something that smelled like sourdough and cheddar. More than cheddar, but I wasn’t a cheese expert by any means. “Thank you for inviting me. I know this is all…new.”
He didn’t seem strange or weird as I thought he would. New was exactly how I felt about it all.
Zephyr and I and maybe him were stepping into a new phase of our life. Maybe that meant him only being my best friend. Perhaps it meant him being my wife’s other mate and my best friend. And the worst possible meaning…he didn’t want to be in our lives at all.
“We set the table out back. You didn’t have to bring anything.”
He shrugged and took in the house. His eyes drifted upstairs, and I was sure his wolf could pick up Zeph’s motions and could hear her heartbeat as well as I could. “I never go to a house empty-handed. My mom taught me that.”
“I remember that. She always sent over cookies or something when you came over to our house.”
He chuckled. “Gosh, we used to spend all day together and even at night. My house or yours.”
“Yours, mostly,” I answered. Huh. I hadn’t thought about that. Nine times out of ten, we had stayed at his house. I remembered it being a place of peace for me, and his family operated in a whole different way than ours did. They spoke to each other kindly. With respect.
I strove to make my marriage like theirs. Maybe copied from Birch’s parents.
“Outside, you said?”
We went out to the back patio, and I fired up the grill. I went inside for beers and found her making a salad. She looked refreshed in her cute sweater, cream with fall leaves scattered over it, and tights that made her legs go on forever.
Bare feet.
Goddess, I loved her like this.
My best friend was outside watching the grill. My mate was in the kitchen making a salad, and I had the two people I cared about most right here with me. I grabbed the beers and talked to her for a minute before she shooed me back outside and said she’d be out in a minute.
It was more like ten, but when she appeared, she was holding that giant salad bowl that she loved but always said was too big for the two of us. Maybe it was a sign?
“Hey,” she said, coming over to kiss me. “Birch, I hope you’re making yourself at home.”