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"We've hardly been apart since you've arrived."

"And it's been wonderful."

"It has." Fenella surprised herself by agreeing. "But I also need space to breathe, Din. I don't need a babysitter."

She walked to the front door and checked her watch. Still plenty of time to get to the bar early.

"Look," she said, her tone softening, "you can come tonight and stay until closing, but just this once. It's important to me that I establish myself there on my own terms."

"Fair enough," Din conceded, though his expression suggested he wasn't entirely convinced. "Just tonight, unless you decide that you actually like having me around and keeping the drunks from harassing you."

Fenella wasn't sure she believed he would obey her wishes on that. There was something in his tone that hinted at future arguments over this boundary. For all the talk about fated mates she'd heard from Kyra and Jasmine, she and Din were still navigating the complexities of two fiercely independent people trying to forge a connection that wouldn't suffocate either of them.

Kyra and Jasmine both seemed completely in sync with their mates—unable to be apart for long without experiencing physical and emotional distress. They described it as a tether connecting them to their mates and pulling taut when the separation exceeded a few hours.

Fenella hoped that would never happen to her. She craved her space, her independence, and she couldn't imagine being attached to someone at the hip. She enjoyed Din's company, found him intellectually stimulating and physically irresistible, but she didn't feel like she couldn't breathe without him being near.

In her not-so-humble opinion, Kyra and Jasmine were the crazy ones and she was the normal one.

Then again, it was possible that her and Din's connection was not fated but something more mundane and, therefore, potentially more fragile.

40

FENELLA

"You're quiet," Din observed as they neared the bar.

"Just thinking about drink recipes," Fenella lied, pushing aside the jumble of thoughts that had been swirling in her head since they had left Shira's place and continued through the stop in Thomas's place for Din to change his shirt.

Tonight was about her return to bartending, not existential questions about fate and compatibility.

The Hobbit looked even more charming in the waning light, with soft illumination spilling from its round windows and creating golden pools on the path outside. It wouldn't last long as the shutters would go down as soon as it got dark outside, but for now, it looked very inviting.

Inside, the cozy space glowed with warmth, the wooden beams overhead strung with tiny lights. The huge bar dominated the floor, with plenty of stools for patrons who wanted to sit right next to it, but there was also ample seating available around small tables that were made from barrels topped with wooden round platforms.

"Fenella!" Atzil called from behind the bar. "Right on time. Come and let me show you the setup."

Din squeezed her hand before releasing it. "I'll find a table in the back where I will disappear into the shadows."

Fenella nodded and made her way to the bar, where Atzil welcomed her with a warm smile.

"Ready for your first night?" He handed her a tiny black apron with the bar's logo embroidered on the pocket.

"Yes, sir." Fenella tied it around her waist. "It's been so long since I've done this."

"It's like riding a bicycle," Atzil said, unknowingly echoing her earlier words to Din.

"Exactly." Fenella ran her hands along the polished wood of the bar, familiarizing herself with its contours.

For the next twenty minutes or so, Atzil guided her through which bottles were most popular and the drinks the Kra-ell favored.

"We get busier as the night goes on, with the peak usually around midnight. Most nights, I have to forcibly kick people out, or they would stay until it was daylight."

That meant people were enjoying themselves, and if it was up to her, she would have kept the bar open until it was daylight, the automatic shutters opened, and everyone went home without needing to be kicked out.

"Any troublemakers I should watch out for?" Fenella asked.

"Not really. The worst we get is Rogan waxing poetic about his lost love after his fifth whiskey, or Gunter trying to convince everyone to join in singing sea shanties. Anandur is a hoot, but he never comes without Wonder, and she likes to go to bed early, so there is that."