Page 16 of The Werewolf’s Wrong Mate

A quiet anchor.

Grant’s voice warmed. “She showed me that love is brave. It asks you to risk comfort. It asks you to risk judgment. It asks you to become honest about what you want, even when the truth hurts people.”

My fork stopped halfway to my plate. There were few things more offensive than a cheater discovering moral language.

Tessa was crying now. My mother was crying too. Several guests made soft sounds of approval, because people loved betrayal once it had been arranged with flowers.

Grant looked down the table at me, only for a second.

“And I am grateful,” he said, “for everyone who made space for our happiness.”

My father’s hand tightened around mine.

Aunt Linda said, very clearly, “Oh, fuck off.”

The table went silent near us. Across from me, one of Grant’s cousins blinked into his wine. My mother’s head snapped around.

I looked straight ahead.

Dad said, “Linda.”

Aunt Linda lifted her glass. “To honesty. Since apparently it’s here now.”

A few people laughed because they thought she was eccentric. Grant smiled because he knew a public fight would flatter him.

Tessa looked at me. There it was again. That silent plea. Please don’t. Please let me have this. Please absorb one more sharp thing so I can feel soft.

I raised my glass.

“To Tessa,” I said.

Her face crumpled with relief.

Only Tessa, not Grant. Enough people repeated it that the omission passed without becoming a scene.

Grant noticed.

Good.

By dessert, I had survived two speeches, one slideshow, and a conversation with Grant’s aunt about how “unusual” it was for me to be in the wedding party. I told her families came in all shapes, which made Aunt Linda choke on her wine.

Henry had been moved beside Tessa’s chair, where he sat beneath the table and judged everyone’s shoes.

I liked him more by the minute.

When I stood to go to the restroom, Aunt Linda touched my wrist.

“Want company?”

“I am peeing, not meeting him in a second location.”

“I don’t trust the architecture.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Dad looked up. “Text if you need me.”

That almost made me smile.