Page 36

TREVOR

The chime of the grandfather clock in the corner of the inn’s lobby overtakes the classical music drifting through the speakers. I finish updating the new photos of the inn’s property on the website, then glance down at Bandit and Hades lying on the rug by my feet.

As if on cue, they look up at me and Bandit barks like he needs to remind me that the three o’clock bell chime is for my coffee break, and their afternoon treat.

Bending down, I ruffle his fur. “I didn’t forget. But today, we’re having a special break. Bram will be here soon and then we’ll have coffee and treats.”

He leaps up, planting his front paws on my thigh, and Hades does the same on my other side. Their tails wag, just shy of being in sync.

The front door opens and Bram comes into the lobby, carrying a tray of to-go cups and a bag from Special Blend, and another from the pet boutique. “Hey. There are my three favorite guys.”

We’ve been together for eleven months. No matter how stressful a day I’m having, Bram always brightens it. The dogs do, too. After one last ruffle, I stand, and the dogs bolt toward Bram to greet him.

I hurry across the wide-planked floor and grab the tray and bags before a combined hundred pounds of dog can take them down.

Bram grins at me. “Thanks. I would’ve been here five minutes ago, but I ran into Bo at the coffee shop and he wanted to talk about our plans for Mabel’s festival.”

After the mess with the cryptid faking last year, the people involved in the deception have bent over backward to show Bram and me how sorry they are, and that they value what he does.

One of the ideas, floated by Bo, was to retool Cryptid Night to be exclusively for our resident monster.

He was also understanding about my decision to stop holding the haunted house at the inn.

The Halloween festival committee happily took it on and will be holding the event on the festival grounds.

“What did he say?”

“He asked if we wanted to keep the name as Cryptid Night, or change it to something more Mabel specific. His suggestion is Much Ado About Mabel.”

Biting my lip, I set the tray and bags on the reception desk. “Hmm. I don’t know. I like the Shakespeare vibes, but let’s keep thinking.”

“Agree.” He opens the bag from the boutique and shakes two bone-shaped dog treats onto his palm. In unison, the dogs sit for him. “Such good boys. Here you go, two chicken-flavored treats.”

The sound of their crunching accompanies my opening the bag from the coffee shop. Sugary sweetness wafts from the assortment of muffins inside. Pumpkin, cinnamon spice, blueberry, maple walnut, chocolate, and cranberry orange.

I take the pumpkin muffin. “The Mabel Monster Mash?”

“Sounds like a themed item at the diner, mashed potatoes to go along with the meatloaf.”

Laughing, I peel the wrapper off. “True. We should suggest it to someone at Sparky’s.”

Bram grabs the chocolate muffin. “Mabel Fest? Mabel Madness? Mabel Mania?”

“I like Mabel Fest.” I roll the bag’s top closed and tuck it behind the desk. Jo will want the cranberry orange muffin, and we can take the rest home. “Let’s sit in the bay window.”

We carry our coffee and muffins to the bench seat Alaric and I restored together during the summer. The cushioned seat is a thick pad perfect for sinking in and staying a while.

Outside the window, Maplewoodians are enjoying the warm weather and sunshine.

The early September sky is a gorgeous, cloudless blue.

We have plans to see Ever and Dmitri, Conall, Alaric and Jake, and Rory, Adrian, and Zach tonight for the monthly game night we started last winter.

A board game and card game free-for-all that’s always chaotic and so much fun.

Bram bites into his muffin. “We also have to figure out Halloween costumes. I don’t want a repeat of last year.”

Laughing, I settle against him and sip my coffee. “Yeah, they need to be extremely obvious. Like firemen. Or superheroes.”

He grins. “We should do a group costume with the dogs. Then we can wear it in the pet parade.”

“I love that idea.” I glance at our dogs, lying together at our feet. “When we’re in Philly next weekend, we should ask Charlie to come up for the parade and Halloween. He could join our group costume.”

“He might like that.” Bram takes the bite of muffin I offer him. “Though, since he’s friends with Rory, the throuple could get involved too. So then it’s an eight-costume group. ”

I finish munching my mouthful. “Jake and Alaric might want to get in on it.”

His lips twitch. “And Ever and Dmitri?”

Nodding, I sip more caffeine. “Can’t leave out Conall and Jo.”

“What’s the count up to, fourteen of us? Twelve if we don’t count the dogs. If they all would somehow agree to this, the chaos would be off the charts.”

“Oh, I know.” Laughing, I lean in and kiss him. He tastes like chocolate and coffee, and feels like the best thing in the world. “It would be epic.”

He angles back so he can fish his phone from his pocket. “I’ll send a text to the group chat, see what everyone says.”

Text sent, he drops his phone on the cushion. A notification pings as he reaches for his coffee. He huffs a laugh. “No one could’ve read and responded that fast.”

“Well, it is a good idea. I’d immediately respond with an enthusiastic emoji as soon as I saw the words group costume .”

Chuckling, he picks up the phone. His gaze whips to mine. “The podcast awards are in.”

Nerves and anticipation spike my system.

He was so worried about his reputation after the faked cryptid hoax, but his followers stuck by him and most people believed Agnes and the other hoaxers who came forward had acted on their own.

If anything, them acting out of love has people looking at the Rocktogenarians as being potential matchmakers now.

Of course, the ladies are loving it and have started their own podcast offering advice on romance and relationships.

I abandon my coffee and muffin and grab hold of his free hand. “Open it. Let’s see.”

He taps his screen. Then stares at it, slack-jawed. “I won…”

“Yes!” I pump my arm and then grab my bewildered man and sweep him into a hug. And a very thorough kiss .

When I angle back, he shows me the screen. I scan the categories until I see his name.

I read out the text. “The award for Best Podcast Production, Paranormal Storytelling goes to Bram Macleod of The Cryptid Corner. I’m so fucking proud of you.”

He beams. “I can’t believe it. Then again, I do have the best team.”

“Yes, the dogs and I contribute so much.” Laughing, I shake my head at him.

We travel with Bram on his investigations and go exploring in our off hours, and have such a good time.

His beaming smile turns softer and Bram grasps my hand. “You do. I love our time together.”

Warmth washes into my chest. “So do I.”

We’ve worked out a balance between our time in Maplewood and our cryptid adventures. The inn is thriving. We’re fully booked more often than not. Jo at the helm when I’m away has been a solid move. Bram and I have a great life together, one that’s so much fuller than where I was a year ago.

In a way, we have Agnes to thank for it.

Maybe we would’ve eventually gotten here, but that could’ve taken years.

We see her for dinners once a month and go to support her and the rest of the Rocktogenarians whenever they have a gig, and over the months our relationship with her has gradually rebuilt.

Bram pulls me into his arms. “I love you.”

Every time I hear those words, my heart smiles. I gaze into blue eyes I have the privilege of waking up to every morning. “Love you too. We have to celebrate. Drinks tonight at The Striped Maple. I’ll text everyone.”

I fire off the text in the group chat, sending everyone the link to the awards.

Both of our phones ping with congratulations coming in from Ever first, followed by Jo, Conall, Dmitri, and the rest.

I read the latest text. “Tonight’s plans are set. We’re meeting everyone at The Striped Maple at eight o’clock.”

“And then later tonight, you and I will have another celebration, just the two of us.” He tilts his head up, eliminates the inches separating us, and kisses me.

Every day with him is a celebration of having each other, loving each other, and of our life we’ve created together in this quirky small town. There’s no place like Maplewood. There’s no one like Bram. And there’s no luckier guy in the world than me.

And maybe someday soon, on one of our adventures or hikes in the woods, I’ll finally get my own glimpse of Mabel.