7
T he bell above the door chimed merrily as Mrs. Thackeray swept into Hart’s Shoe Repair, her fur coat rustling with each step. I looked up from the delicate beadwork I’d been repairing on her favorite pumps, a smile tugging at my lips.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Thackeray,” I said, setting aside my work. “Your shoes are almost ready.”
She beamed, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Marvelous, Mr. Hart. Or should I say, Mr. Sterling-Hart now?”
I chuckled, one hand absently rubbing my swollen belly. “Milo is just fine, ma’am.”
Mrs. Thackeray’s gaze softened as she took in my pregnant form. “My, my. When are you due, dear?”
“Any day now,” I replied, a mix of excitement and nervousness fluttering in my chest. “Jack and Elijah are beside themselves with anticipation.”
As if summoned by their names, a crash echoed from the new addition to the shop, followed by a string of colorful curses that would have made my grandfather blush. Mrs. Thackeray raised an eyebrow, and I felt my cheeks heat.
“Speaking of my husbands,” I said hastily, “why don’t I fetch them? They can show you the plans for the new shop front while I finish up your shoes.”
I waddled—there was no other word for it at this point—to the door connecting the original shop to the new L-shaped addition. Jack and Elijah stood amid a sea of sawdust and wood shavings, arguing good-naturedly over a set of blueprints.
“Boys,” I called, unable to keep the amusement from my voice, “we have a customer.”
They looked up, matching grins spreading across their faces. Even after two years of marriage, the sight still made my heart skip a beat.
“Coming, sweetheart,” Jack said, brushing sawdust from his trousers. Elijah followed, pausing to press a kiss to my cheek as he passed.
As they entertained Mrs. Thackeray with tales of our expansion plans, I returned to my workbench. The familiar scents of leather and polish mingled with the earthy aroma of fresh-cut wood from the addition. So much had changed in the past two years, but this—the core of our families’ now combine cobbling businesses—remained the same.
The bell chimed again, and Mabel bustled in, a basket of pastries balanced on her hip. “I brought you some of those cinnamon rolls you’ve been craving.”
My mouth watered at the heavenly aroma wafting from the basket. “You’re a saint,” I said, reaching for a warm, gooey roll.
She laughed, setting the basket on the counter. “How’s the little one today?” she asked, nodding towards my belly.
“Active,” I replied around a mouthful of pastry. “I swear, this child has Jack’s energy and Elijah’s penchant for late nights.”
Mabel’s eyes twinkled. “Well, with those two as fathers, what did you expect? Speaking of which, how’s the expansion coming along?”
I gestured towards the open doorway, where we could see Jack and Elijah animatedly describing their plans to Mrs. Thackeray. “Slowly but surely.”
I took another bite of the heavenly roll, savoring the sweet, buttery and cinnamon flavors. “You know, I still can’t believe your family bought Sterling’s. How’s that working out?”
Mabel’s eyes lit up. “Oh, it’s been wonderful! Mama and Papa are thrilled. Jack and Elijah gave us such a good deal, we couldn’t pass it up. They said something about wanting to focus on... well, you know.” She winked at me.
I felt my cheeks warm. “Right, the merger.” The word still felt strange on my tongue. “It’s surreal, thinking about combining Hart’s with Sterling’s. If you’d told me two years ago...”
“Life’s funny that way,” Mabel said, her voice soft. “One minute you’re rivals, the next... well.” She gestured to my belly with a grin.
I chuckled, running a hand over the swell. “I guess life had other plans for Sterling’s Fine Footwear.”
“Who’d have thought?” Mabel teased. “But seriously, it’s been great. The old shop had the perfect layout for display cases. And the location? Prime real estate.”
I nodded, remembering the countless times I’d walked past that storefront, green with envy. Now, the thought only brought a bemused smile to my face.
We chatted for a few minutes more before Mabel had to leave, promising to bring more pastries tomorrow. As she stepped out, Martha and Mr. Thompson walked in, arm in arm.
The sight still amazed me sometimes. Two years ago, they’d barely been on speaking terms. Now, they were inseparable.
“Milo!” Martha exclaimed, rushing over to hug me as best she could around my protruding belly. “How are you feeling?”
“Like a beached whale,” I admitted with a laugh. “But happy. How are things at the tannery, Mr. Thompson?”
The older man’s eyes crinkled with genuine warmth. “Couldn’t be better, my boy. We’ve just landed a contract with a big city department store. And please, call me Gus. You’re family now.”
As they settled in to wait for their orders, I marveled at how much had changed. The tannery was thriving under Gus and Martha’s joint management. Millcrest had elected a new sheriff—young Deputy Rogers, who’d been instrumental in helping us in bringing down Dawson’s corruption. And the town itself seemed to have shrugged off the lingering shadow of the Depression, its new vitality evident in the bustling streets and well-stocked shops.
The afternoon passed in a whirlwind of customers, shoe purchases, and repairs. Before I knew it, the sun hung low in the sky, painting the shop in warm, golden hues. As the last customer left, Jack flipped the sign to “Closed” and Elijah began sweeping up.
“I have a surprise for you,” I said, unable to contain my excitement any longer.
They exchanged curious glances. “What kind of surprise?” Jack asked, a mischievous glint in his eye.
I rolled my eyes fondly. “Not that kind of surprise, you insatiable alpha. Come outside.”
Taking each of them by the hand, I led them out onto the sidewalk. There, propped against the wall, stood a large, cloth-covered object. I’d arranged for old Mr. Callahan, the local woodworker, to deliver it earlier that afternoon while Jack and Elijah were busy with customers and the shop’s add-on. The anticipation had been killing me all day, and I’d barely managed to keep my excitement under wraps.
“Ready?” I asked, gripping the edge of the cloth.
At their nods, I pulled, revealing a beautifully carved wooden sign. An intricately painted elf, arms full of shoes, grinned cheekily beside the words “Cobblers’ Corner” in elegant gold lettering.
For a moment, Jack and Elijah stood silent, their eyes wide with surprise. Then, as one, they turned to me.
“Milo,” Elijah breathed, his voice thick with emotion. “It’s perfect.”
Jack nodded, reaching out to trace the carved elf with reverent fingers. “Cobblers’ Corner,” he said, testing the words. “I love it.”
“I thought,” I said, suddenly shy, “since we’re expanding the shop and our family, it was time for a new name. Something that represents all of us.”
They pulled me into a tight embrace, mindful of my belly. I breathed in their mingled scents—Jack’s spicy cedar and Elijah’s sweet sandalwood—feeling utterly safe and loved.
“Thank you,” Jack murmured against my hair. “For everything.”
Elijah’s hand found mine, squeezing gently. “We love you so much, Milo.”
We stood there for a long moment, basking in each other’s presence and the promise of our future together. Finally, a sharp kick from my belly broke the spell.
Jack laughed, placing his hand over the spot. “I think someone’s feeling left out.”
“Have you thought any more about names?” Elijah asked as we made our way back inside.
I nodded, locking the door behind us. “I was thinking... maybe Christopher? After my grandfather?”
Their faces softened with understanding. “It’s perfect,” Elijah said.
“Christopher… Chris,” Jack mused, a grin spreading across his face. “I like it.”
As we climbed the stairs to our apartment—soon to be expanded along with the shop—I couldn’t help but reflect on how far we’d come. Two years ago, I’d been a struggling cobbler, barely keeping my head above water. Now, I had a thriving business, a loving family, and a community that had rallied around us in ways I never could have imagined.
Jack and Elijah moved around the small kitchen, preparing a light supper as I sank gratefully into my favorite armchair. The domestic scene before me, so ordinary yet so precious, brought tears to my eyes.
“Hey now,” Jack said softly, kneeling beside me. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”
I shook my head, smiling through my tears. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m just... happy. Overwhelmed, maybe.”
Elijah joined us, perching on the arm of the chair. “Good overwhelmed, I hope?”
“The best kind,” I assured them, taking each of their hands in mine. “I was just thinking about my grandfather’s story. About the cobbler and the elves who came to help him in his time of need.”
Understanding dawned in their eyes. Jack pressed a kiss to my knuckles. “Are we still your elves, then?”
I nodded, my heart so full it felt fit to burst. “The best elves a cobbler could ask for. My mates. My alphas. My family.”
Elijah leaned down, capturing my lips in a tender kiss. “And you’re our omega. Our heart. Our home.”
A sense of rightness settled over me. This was where I belonged. With my mates, our soon-to-be-born pup, and a future bright with promise.
My grandfather had always said that magic existed for those who knew where to look. He’d been right, of course. But the magic I’d found wasn’t in helpful elves or fairy tales.
It was in the love of two alphas who’d seen past my prickly exterior to the lonely omega beneath.
It was in a community that had come together to support us through thick and thin.
And it was in the little life growing inside me, a perfect blend of the three of us.
As I drifted off to sleep that night, nestled safely between Jack and Elijah, I couldn’t help but smile. The cobbler might have had his elves, but I had something far better.
I had my alphas. My happily ever after.
The End.