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Two

Chapter 2 – Celeste

With a practiced pinch and twist, I folded the muslin back a minuscule amount and wove a long, purple-headed pin through the fold of the fabric.

“I can’t believe how many pins you own,” Katie said. She eyed me in the full-length, trifold mirror, her green eyes sparkling with humor.

“Says the woman who owns every kind of baking pan imaginable,” I retorted, rolling my eyes playfully at her and grabbing another pin from my stash.

“No pans, none of those peanut butter brownies you love so much.” She folded her arms across her chest smugly.

“Stop that!” I swatted at her hands, and she dropped them quickly, looking contrite. “You’ll mess up how it sits.”

“Right,” she said, seriously, concentrating on holding still. “Leo will never forgive me if I walk down the aisle in a lopsided wedding dress because I couldn’t sit still for two minutes.”

“Leo would love you if you walked down the aisle in your pajamas,” I grumbled, leaning in closely to carefully fold over another tiny section of fabric at her hip.

World-class seamstress or not, I had a hard-and-fast rule about not making wedding dresses. They were a great money-maker, but they just weren’t worth the hassle. Only the fact that Katie and I had been best

friends practically since birth allowed her to convince me to break my rule this once.

“You better not divorce him,” I reminded her for at least the eighth time. A strand of hair had come loose from the messy ponytail I’d scooped it into, and I tucked it behind my ear as I stood. “Because I’m not making another wedding dress, ever. Not even for you.”

“Leo is perfect,” she shot back, immediately. Stealing a glance in the mirror, I watched her expression go dreamy. “Kind, sweet, thoughtful.

Not to mention handsome and so good in bed. He’s like a real-life Prince Charming.”

Shaking my head, I worked my way around her, checking all of my measurements. For the final dress to work, the muslin mock-up had to be perfect.

“It’s my own personal happily ever after,” Katie sighed, contentedly.

It had better be for as much work as this wedding is, I thought. The thought made me cringe, and I ducked down, pretending to check a pinned- up section at her waist to hide my expression.

I didn’t mean to be uncharitable. Leo really was a great guy, and he treated Katie like gold. They were happy, and it was rare for a non-shifter guy to marry into a pack the way Leo was for Katie. If he wanted a big

wedding, well, it was probably a completely reasonable compromise. Weddings were a thing humans did, after all. A big deal. It was just a cultural difference, no different than any other you’d run into when marrying someone from a different background.

“All right,” I said, straightening up. “Let’s get you out of this so I can start stitching it.”

“Right now?” Katie asked, surprised.

“No time like the present,” I pointed out, helping her off the little dais I kept in front of the studio mirror for expressly this purpose. “The sooner I find out if there are going to be any glitches in the pattern, the better.”

“Okay.” She turned her back to me, so I could undo the temporary fasteners and ease her out of the voluminous garment. Together, we

carefully shimmied it over what her mother called Katie’s “child-bearing hips,” and I helped her step over the masses of fabric without either of us getting stabbed by the innumerable pins. For all that Katie complained

about finding clothes that fit her curvaceous form, she could pull off designs my too-slender figure would never manage.

Gathering the muslin carefully, I carried it a short distance across my sewing studio to where I had two sewing machines and a serger set up in a circle. Katie grabbed the jeans and t-shirt she’d arrived in and pulled

them on as I arranged myself and the fabric in front of the machine I wanted.

Rotating the muslin as I searched for the seam I wanted to start with, I couldn’t help but think bemusedly of our school days. All the other little girls had dreamed of the grand weddings they’d have someday. Katie and I had always cheerfully played along, conjuring up ridiculous ideas about poofy dresses and fancy menus with the best of them, eager to fit in. We’d

always dreamed about other girls’ weddings, though. Never our own. It just wasn’t what shifters did. Our own mothers hadn’t had weddings, and we hadn’t expected to either.

Finding the seam, I slid it into place. Checking the tension on the thread, I gently pressed my foot down on the pedal, expertly sending the machine and fabric into motion. I could still clearly remember my mother explaining to me why shifters didn’t need weddings.

“When you find your mate, Celeste, you’ll know. He’ll know, too. When you’re together, the rest of the pack will smell you on one another.”

“Like you and daddy smell the same but different?” I’d asked.

“Yes, like daddy and me,” she’d agreed. “We each have our own

smell, but because we’re mates, we smell like each other, too. Shifters don’t need big parties or expensive rings the way that humans do. We know our mates in our bodies and our souls.”

It had all sounded so romantic. It wasn’t until much, much later that I’d learned the ugly truth. I’d never gotten to confront her about it, though. She and my father died in a car crash before I found the words to confess my secret romance and heartbreak. In one summer, I’d lost everything, and I promised myself I would never believe in pretty lies ever again.

“I think I got the final guest list nailed down,” Katie said, drawing my attention back to the moment. She flopped onto the cushy loveseat

situated between the fitting room section of the studio and my sewing area. Tucking her ankles beneath her so she could comfortably sit cross-legged,

she tugged her fine, jet-black hair out of the bun we’d put it in to keep it out of the way for the fitting and ran her fingers through it. “That was a pain. I had no idea we had so many freaking cousins between the two of us.”

I snorted and angled the fabric around the next dart. “You have six aunts,” I reminded her. “All of them have kids. Of course, you have a million cousins.”

“Not a million,” she huffed. “But ... a lot. Who knew weddings would be so much work?” Satisfied with her hair, she grabbed the

messenger bag she’d left on the loveseat and started digging through it. “Or setting up house? Seriously, I thought we’d be done with that at least by now.”

“It can’t be that hard,” I protested, feeding another section of fabric under the needle. “You’ve both got apartments. It’s not like you have to go toaster shopping or something.”

“No, it’s worse,” she said, dramatically. “We have to inventory and compare everything—is my toaster better, or is his? Will it fit in the new place? Does it clash with the decor? What are we even doing about decor? It’s crazy.”

“Are you sure he’s worth it?” I teased, glancing at her over the

sewing machine. “You can always move in here with me if you’re tired of living by yourself.”

“No way!” She feigned indignation. “I put a lot of work into catching Leo. I’m not turning him loose now!”

“Whatever.” I made a face at her and pulled the fabric from the machine. Snipping the loose ends of the thread, I started pulling pins from the finished area and dropping them in my collection jar.

“I’m serious, Celly,” Katie said, dropping the bag on the floor beside her and sitting forward. “We’re not as young as we used to be. We’re thirty-three, already!” She grabbed a throw pillow and plopped it in her lap, plucking fretfully at it as her expression scrunched. “I want pups, and the

clock is ticking. If I don’t get married and have some soon, I may not get any.”

“You may not get any marrying Leo,” I couldn’t help but point out. No couple was guaranteed kids, after all, and although humans and shifters were technically compatible, there was a higher likelihood of problems

conceiving between them than between straight human or straight shifter

couples. I was careful to keep my tone gentle; while it had to be said, I didn’t want to hurt her. We don’t control who we fall in love with, and it wasn’t her fault her mate was born human.

“Well, I certainly won’t get any if I don’t try,” she retorted, undaunted. Then she cocked her head, her eyes narrowing in my direction. “When are you going to find a mate?”

“I’m not.” The words came out flat, and I tugged the next pin out of the fabric more roughly than necessary.

“But you’re great with pups,” she cajoled. “You babysit all the time, and everyone loves you.”

“I don’t have time for a mate,” I responded flippantly, trying to play

it off.

Katie had been in South America with a study abroad program the

summer my life had fallen apart. I hadn’t dared to write her about my secret romance lest anyone else found out, and by the time she’d come back, I’d resolved to simply put the entire thing behind me.

The man who should have been my mate had put me behind him easily enough.

“You don’t even want to consider it?” she asked, genuinely curious. “It wouldn’t kill you to try dating at least a little.”

There wasn’t much point in that, given that I already knew who my mate was, but I couldn’t tell her that. Besides, in theory, her point would

still be valid. Shifters who lost their mates sometimes did find someone else. Pick a decent partner and make a life together work. But it would always be hollow. Being alone was better.

“You don’t need a mate to have family,” I reminded her, checking the seam I was working on to make sure I hadn’t missed any pins.

“That’s your mother talking.” She scowled at me.

“She wasn’t wrong,” I pointed out, pretending not to notice. “The pack is our family. We take care of each other.”

“You mean you take care of everyone,” Katie said, shaking her head. She started ticking things off on her fingers. “You watch pups when

parents are busy; you sit with Mrs. Markus when her own kids are too busy to visit; you do all the record-keeping and planning for pack events.

Seriously, you’re like the super-glue that keeps everything together.”

A fat lot of good it’s doing, I thought, sticking another section of fabric under the needle and stepping on the foot peddle to start the machine.

Five years without a proper Alpha had taken a toll, and even I was struggling to keep the pack from splintering under the strain these days.

More lessons of my mother’s automatically tumbled out of my mouth. “We all have a responsibility to the pack. We have to serve however we can.” The old lessons made my chest ache, but they’d been the guiding principles of my life, and I couldn’t help repeating them now. “Without a

strong, healthy pack, we become prey to be picked off. I’m just doing my part.”

“You could still do your part while having a pup,” Katie insisted. Her expression went thoughtful. “You wouldn’t even need a man if you really don’t want one. I mean sperm donors are a thing, right? You could just borrow some DNA, have a pup, and start a family of your own.” Her voice softened. “You know I’m proud of you, Celly,” she said, motioning around us. “You’ve got your own house, your own business; you do the

work of six pack members—you’re amazing. But you deserve to be happy, and you’re not. Not really, and we both know it.”

I sighed and lifted my foot from the peddle, bringing the machine to a stop. I lifted my gaze to hers over the machine. “I’m happy enough,” I told her firmly. “I’ve got nothing against having kids however you want to get them, but it’s just … not for me. I have my home, and I have my work, and I have the pack.” I summoned a smile. “And I have you. And you and Leo are probably going to have a whole pile of pups, and then I’ll have more than enough to keep me busy.”

Katie made a face at me, but she let the matter drop. Lifting up the bridal magazine she’d fished from her bag, she intentionally turned the

conversation to wedding favors and tabletop decorations.

I nodded along and fed another section of fabric through the machine, grateful for the change of subject. Katie meant well, but I didn’t

need a mate or a pup. I had the pack, and that was enough.

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