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“You took forever.”
“I was gone for four hours.”
“That’s forever,” she insists.
Our daughter turns four today, but she already has an answer for everything. Her pale blonde hair is nearly the same shade as Elsie’s, although her eyes are green like mine. She has a smudge of dirt across one cheek and something purple streaked down the front of her yellow dress.
I rub the stain between my fingers. “What is this?”
“Paint.”
“Why is there paint on your party dress?”
She points toward the kitchen. “Mommy said the same thing.”
“I’m sure she did.”
“I was making you a picture.”
My irritation disappears immediately. “A picture for me?”
Rosie nods solemnly. “It’s a wolf. But it looks a little like a potato.”
“I like potatoes.”
“That’s what Mommy said.”
Of course she did.
I carry Rosie into the kitchen and stop in the doorway. Elsie stands at the counter, placing strawberries around the edge of a cake. Her hair is twisted into a loose knot, and she has flour on her cheek. She’s wearing one of my old shirts over a pair of leggings, the fabric hanging almost to her knees.
She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
My wolf whines his agreement. Mate.
Elsie glances up, and her whole face brightens when she sees me.
There were times during those first few months when I caught her watching me as though she expected me to change my mind about her. Every gift surprised her. Every kind gesture made her suspicious. She apologized whenever she needed something and thanked me so often that I finally had to threaten to charge her a kiss for every unnecessary apology.
I collected a lot of kisses that year.
She doesn’t look uncertain anymore. This is her home. She knows it. She knows that she belongs here and that I belong to her.
“Hi,” she says.
“Hi, Angel.”
I set Rosie down and cross the kitchen. Elsie smiles as I cup her face and kiss her.
“Daddy,” Rosie complains. “That’s gross.”
“You won’t think that when you find your mate,” I tell her.
The instant the words leave my mouth, my wolf growls.
No mate.
I stiffen.
