Page 49

Caelon

I watched her all night last night, typing and erasing her email to the Nat Geo rep she found.

Groans of frustration echoing from her side of the couch before she finally slammed the laptop shut, tossing it onto the cushion beside her.

I know that she is worried that she will be denied, her fear of rejection shining brighter than her determination.

My fingers skim across the brown, leather portfolio that she has been working day and night at perfecting with Lou. I think she has rearranged the photos at least twenty times by now, yelling about how the story just isn’t there yet. I have no idea what she’s talking about, but I nod nonetheless.

My tea is cooling in my cup when I set it down on the dining room table next to her unopened laptop. When she finally gave up and went to bed, she set it down on the table claiming she would work on it again today. How mad would she be if I sent the email myself?

“Do it,” Calix chimes in.

“Hush, I want her to have the opportunity to choose this for herself. I’m already doing the gallery without her knowledge.”

“I think you just don’t have the balls to do it. Maybe I should take over and do it for you, hmm?”

“Stop it, we aren’t sending the email. She’s not ready for it.”

“Stop making excuses and just open the laptop. Come on, we are already sitting in front of it.”

“Fine,” I say as I look around, listening for any movement in our cabin.

I slowly open the laptop as the screen turns on. She doesn’t even have a password on it, giving me direct access to exactly what she was doing before.

There on the screen is the email she was working on last night. Five of her best photos are attached, some I think I would have to say are the best photos ever taken. But I am a bit biased.

Her generic opening is there with the partial paragraph she’s typed. I scan over the screen a few times, not touching the keyboard or doing anything.

Calix stirs, his impatience wearing thin. “She saved the draft, she’s more than ready. Nat Geo isn’t going to knock on our door and beg her to work for them.”

“I should let her look over it again,” I say as I sip my tea, hoping the herbs will help me decide.

“Click the damn button.”

“I’m thinking,” I mutter, rubbing my temple as if it will encourage my decision one way or the other.

“You’ve been thinking for almost twenty minutes. At this point you are just marinating in cowardice.”

“It’s a big deal, alright. I know you wouldn’t get it, but she has always dreamed of having this job. She didn’t even say if she was ready to send it yet or not.”

“She left it open on her laptop, best shots already attached, words mostly written. You think that isn’t proof enough? That she did this all by accident?” Calix grumbles.

I exhale sharply, eyes flicking across the screen. These are her best photos. She even included the one of Shadow, as she calls Calix, walking towards her. The same one that he won’t stop talking about.

“That’s really the best one in my opinion. My eyes are stunning. It’s a perfect piece of art, if I do say so myself. Frame it. Worship it. Make it the new pack crest.”

I can’t help but roll my eyes. “She didn’t mean to include that one,” I say as I move the cursor over the top of the photo, right where the x to delete the photo is.

“You wouldn’t dare,” Calix says in a panic.

“Wouldn’t I?”

“Don’t. You know she meant to include it. She means everything she does.”

The cursor hovers over the photo, as if it too is waiting for me to decide what to do. I chew on the inside of my cheek, battling with the decision to send it in.

“You aren’t sending her away, you are helping the world see her shine. Unless you want to hoard her away like a dragon hoarding it’s prized treasure.”

I growl under my breath, “Do you have an off switch?”

Calix chuckles, of course he does. “Nope. Click the button, Thumbelina.”

I glare at the screen warring with the decision before I ultimately decide that I’ll send the email, just not from hers.

I open a new tab, quickly type in my email, before opening a new email box and copy/pasting all the information over.

Including the photos. I adjust the wording to reflect what I’m doing, slap my phone number on there, and hit send before I can change my mind again.

Silence.

“Oh shit, you actually did it. You hit send. Look at my little man growing up. If I had hands I would wipe this little tear away.”

“You don’t have eyes either,” I grumble.

“Semantics really. Seriously, there’s tears here.”

“Shut up.”

“So proud,” Calix continues on. “Now, shall we cry into our nasty tea you drink every day or should we pretend you didn’t almost pass out like you were performing life saving heart surgery?”

I slam the laptop shut and down the last of my now cold tea. I am relieved and nauseous at the same time. Hopefully they reach out to me soon.

With Selene off on another adventure that Lou has sent her on, I’m free to sneak down to Crust Issues to see Bea about making some sweet treats.

One of the things that Gail has on my very long to do list. She told me to make sure there were finger foods at the gallery that people could carry around with them as they viewed the photos while also highlighting the wonderful honey infused goodness that Bea’s known for.

Not understanding what she means by any of that, I’m hoping that Bea will understand this paper that Gail said to give to her. Apparently I can only be trusted with a sheet of paper and handing it to her.

I walk into Crust Issues with all the nerves and excited energy from earlier bubbling under my skin. I feel as if I have a sign hanging on my back saying “I sent a life-altering email and might throw up about it.”

Which is unfortunate because Bea, the owner, clocks it the second her eyes meet mine.

“Well, if it isn’t the man of the month himself with the most anxious aura I’ve seen outside of anyone other than Marlowe when she is trying to sneak a treat,” she says from behind the counter where she’s piping chocolate onto something that looks like a croissant and sin had a baby. “Coffee or comfort carbs?”

“Both,” I grumble as I walk over to the register.

“ Get the cinnamon twists with caramel in the middle. It tastes like victory,” Calix pipes up.

“Cinnamon twist with the caramel in the middle,” I say without argument.

Bea’s brows raise, astonished. “Feeling extra bold today I see.”

“Apparently,” I grow as I fidget with the papers on the countertop.

“Oh, do tell.” She lays the piping bag down and comes over with a fresh cup of tea and the cinnamon twist Calix wanted.

“I might have…sent in the Nat Geo submission for Selene,” I say in a rush of words.

“Wait, like THE National Geographic?”

I nod my head as I slide onto the barstool next to the register. The long bar has glass domes with varying baked goods meant to entice customers into buying more as they sit here chatting with friends and loved ones.

“She was grumbling all night about how she couldn’t get it perfect and she probably shouldn’t even send it in until she finally tossed the laptop onto the couch. So, this morning I copied and pasted it into my own email and sent it off with my phone number.”

Bea whistles, grabbing a brown cardboard box as she begins to fill it with extra baked goods as she continues to listen. “You’re going to need some distractions if you are hoping that she won’t notice that you did that.”

“We survived worse. Remember that time when you touched her photo with Cheeto fingers?” Calix laughs.

“That was you,” I mutter.

“Semantics.”

Bea leans against the counter looking at me with a smile across her face as she slides the box of goodies towards me. “So what brings you to my sugary abode, besides emotional support treats?”

“The gallery opening,” I say as I unfold the paper from Gail and slide it back across the bartop. “Gail mentioned something about treats they can eat while they walk the gallery and something about it ‘highlighting the honey infused goodness you are known for’.”

Bea’s eyes light up as she claps her hands together excitedly.

“Oh, how exciting. I have tons of ideas that would work for that but I think one of them should be an edible picture frame that we put a headshot of Selene in to feature. I can also make some mini tarts. Flaky maple bacon rolls. I can even make some photo-themed sugar cookies.”

I hold my hands up. “Whoa, I don’t even know what most of what you said even is. So I’m just going to trust you here.”

Bea pauses mid-count off on her fingers. “What’s the theme here? Rustic forest fae? Mountain Muse? Shifter chic?”

“Hot girl with a camera who swooped in and took over our lives,” Calix grumbles.

I can feel the panic starting to rise as I try to even think of an answer to that, before she flips open the paper and her eyes skim across what Gail wrote for her.

“Oh, lovely,” she hums as she continues to read. “She’s going to love that.”

I scratch the back of my neck as I wait for her. “Uh, Bea?”

“This is going to be beautiful. Oh if you were wondering it’s Forest Witch for the theme. I can’t wait to get started. What day is the opening?”

“Still don’t know what that means, but thanks. It’s going to be July 31st, but I need you to do me a huge favor and keep this quiet. She doesn’t know that any of this is happening and I’d like to keep it that way as much as possible.”

She mimes zipping her lips as she leans in closer to me. “Your secret's safe with me. I’ll be there bright and early with all the sugary treats.”

“That’s one of the reasons that she’s my favorite person.”

Later that night as we are cuddled on the couch, her head pillowed in my lap, a Nat Geo documentary playing softly in the background, I run my fingers through her hair, twisting my finger around a strand.

Something about snow leopards in the Himalayas.

Her breathing is slow, even. One hand curled under my thigh as the other rests against her chest.

I settle back on the couch as I continue to run my fingers through her hair. The weight of her against me grounds me in a way nothing ever has.

On screen, a voice narrates, “Instinct is survival. But connection is what makes survival worth it.”

I don’t dare move, even if it means we sleep on the couch tonight.