Page 127 of The Cuddle Clause

I wrapped my arms around his waist, letting my head rest against his chest. His heart was steady. Familiar.

Home.

“You know,” I murmured, “we should probably come clean to Doris. About everything. The fake dating. The bond. All of it.”

Roman groaned. “You’re going to make me confess that I used this apartment as a cover for a magical mate arrangement?”

“You’re lucky she didn’t make you sign an emotional support werewolf clause in your lease.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “I’d do it. In a heartbeat.”

I knew he meant it.

Later, we curled up in bed, the sheets tangled again, our legs even more so. Roman traced lazy circles on my back as I stared at the ceiling, wondering how the hell we got here. But I wasn’t questioning it. Not anymore.

We’d earned this.

It hadn’t been easy. We’d hurt each other. Scared each other. Run in opposite directions more times than I could count.

But we’d come back. Again and again and again.

And that mattered more than anything.

“I’m glad you stayed,” I whispered.

Roman tightened his hold on me. Then, after a long pause, he murmured, “Me too.”

And in that moment, I knew with every beat of my heart: we were going to be okay.

I foundthe envelope taped to the fridge.

It was labeled in giant block letters:“IMPORTANT LEGAL DOCUMENTS – DO NOT IGNORE.”Below it, in smaller handwriting:“This means you, Maggie James.”

My first thought? Roman was finally kicking me out. Probably replacing me with a roommate who didn’t hog the throw blankets or sing Alanis Morissette in the shower.Someone who didn’t cry over pizza commercials or collect hand-made pottery urns with no actual dead people in them.

Then I remembered: we were mates now. Bonded. Spiritually, emotionally, magically… and legally, if you counted Doris’s enthusiastic notarization of our lease renewal as binding under supernatural law.

Still, I opened it cautiously.

Inside was a stapled packet of paper. Eight pages. Front and back. With color-coded tabs and a Roman-style organizational legend that explained what the tiny wolf paw stickers meant. Apparently, the gold ones denoted “high emotional value clauses.”

I snorted before I even read the first line.

“OFFICIAL ROOMMATE AGREEMENT 2.0:

MATE EDITION”

I could already feel the smile forming as I sat down at the kitchen table, still wearing Roman’s hoodie and socks, and started reading.

Clause 1.1 – Rent Payment Schedule:

Maggie James, hereafter referred to as ‘Queen of Snacks and Chaos,’ shall pay rent in the form of:

Actual human money, or