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“Good instincts,” I say, leaning closer to add in a confidential voice, “I’ve been watching you two. She seems very funny, very clever, and completely smitten.”
Hermione blushes—actually blushes, something I would have sworn I’d never see—and mumbles, “Well, good. I’m pretty smitten myself.”
“Yay!” I say, squeezing her fingers as Maxim takes my other hand in his.
“What are we celebrating?” he asks.
“Love,” I say, swinging both their hands with a giddy sigh. “Obviously.”
It is obvious.
Maxim can’t keep his hands off me during the meal—even though my kimchi sandwiches are as stinky (and delicious) as I hoped they’d be—and the toasts from our friends and family are so beautiful they make me cry at least three times.
As the band gets going after and we all dance around the bonfire under the stars, I would swear that every light in the sky is celebrating with us.
And then, one by one, families trail off to put their little ones to sleep, the single folks go down to sit by the water and hear the elders tell stories of water horses who live in lakes just like these, and couples of all ages sneak away to the woods.
Or, in our case, to our private yurt on a cliff on the opposite side of the island with a stunning view of the snow-covered hills gleaming in the light of the full moon.
I sit beside Maxim on the bench outside the yurt for a long time, just holding his hand and watching the moon rise and feeling so grateful it feels like my chest will burst.
“Oral for your thoughts?” Maxim finally asks.
My lips curve, but I keep my eyes on the sky. “As if I don’t realize I can have that for free, any time I want.”
“Just one of the many keeper-worthy services I provide.”
“Isn’t that the truth.” I lean my head on his shoulder. “I was just thinking about how grateful I am for all of this. For you and our people and the chance to bring our baby into a relatively peaceful world. I mean, I know uniting the packs is messy business, but you’re all making such good progress. And now that the Parallel packs aren’t coming over to Human Side and making trouble all the time…” I look up at him, my forehead furrowing. “Is it awful that a part of me is grateful for that, too? Even though horrible things could be happening to innocent people there for all we know?”
Maxim considers that for a moment, before he shakes his head. “No. As soon as we’re able to help the people there, we will. In the meantime, you shouldn’t be miserable simply because misery exists. Misery will always exist, but I… I don’t know. I don’t think we’re born to suffer.” He brushes my hair from my forehead. “Do you?”
Holding his gaze, I shake my head gently. “No, I think we were born to love each other, in good times and bad, just like we promised in our vows.” Tears fill my eyes again as I add, “So why don’t we go do some of that, big bad?”
“I thought you’d never ask.” He stands, scoops me up in his strong arms, and carries me over the threshold—or through the yurt tent flap—and lays me down on the big fluffy bed in the center.
There, we prove our love for each other all night long, and in the morning, Maxim surprises me with a sleeve of the gross, perpetually stale-tasting crackers that are the only thing that can nuke my morning sickness on contact. That, as much as all the incredible things he did to my body last night, make me know, deep down in my bones, that I am loved.
And though in so many ways my life is just beginning, I know that there’s nothing better than that.
Not in this world, or any other.
