Page 45 of The Cuddle Clause

Maggie

I spent most of the night staring at the ceiling, thinking about Roman in the other room, probably still in wolf form, probably still sprinting on the treadmill.

My body was still buzzing from everything—Eric showing up like a ghost from the past, Seraphina losing her damn mind in front of a hundred people, Roman avoiding my eyes like I’d betrayed him.

And the worst part? I didn’t even know what I was supposed to feel. There was no tidy category where I could file all of this away. I didn’t want Eric—I knew that. I’d known it the second he said my name like it still belonged to him and something in me recoiled.

But Roman hadn’t asked me about it. Not once. He hadn’t even looked at me like I deserved to be spoken to. And that hurt more than I’d been prepared for.

By the time morning rolled around, I was showered, dressed, and sitting stiffly at the kitchen counter while Roman silently made eggs.

The scrape of a fork against a plate had never sounded so personal.

He set a plate down in front of me without a word. No sarcastic comment. No drama. No accidental smirk. Just the clink of porcelain and tension so thick I could chew it.

We ate in silence.

It was easily the most awkward meal we’d ever shared, and that was saying something, considering our origin story involved pretending to be mated under the watchful eye of a pack alpha with emotional flare-ups that rivaled a telenovela.

Roman finally cleared his throat. “Lucien’s been calling and texting. He wants to see us.”

I set down my fork. “Okay…”

“He knows. Or at least, he suspects. He said, and I quote, ‘You really thought I wouldn’t find out?’”

My stomach dropped. “Shit.”

Roman didn’t even flinch. “Yeah.”

For a moment, I couldn’t speak. I just stared at him, trying to decide if I was more furious or heartbroken. Probably both. “When were you going to tell me?”

“I just found out this morning.”

“Still,” I said, voice sharp with something that sounded too close to betrayal. “You should’ve said something immediately.”

He stared into his mug as if it held answers I never would.

The silence stretched again. I couldn’t take it anymore. My chest felt like it was caving in on itself, and my heart was screaming at me to say something.

“I didn’t agree to try again with Eric.”

That got his attention. He looked up, and something flickered in his gaze. “Okay.”

“Okay? That’s all you have to say?” Why was he not relieved?

“What do you want me to say, Maggie?” His voice didn’t rise, but it cracked.

“Are you not happy that I didn’t say yes to him?”

“Well, you didn’t seem too eager to tell him no.”

“I don’t know what the hell I said. I was in shock, Roman!” I slammed my hand on the table, making my coffee slosh over the rim. “You think I’ve processed a single thing since we got fake-mated and then real-exposed and then real-humiliated in front of your entire pack?”

Roman’s jaw ticked. “So process.”

“I am! I’ve been trying to figure out what I want, Roman. You want to know the truth?”

He didn’t answer, but his shoulders tensed. But before he could speak—before I could say more—there was a thunderous knock at the front door.

I froze.

“Romanus, I know you’re in there. You’re avoiding me, but it’s time to face the music. Open the damn door.”

Lucien.

Roman groaned, standing with the posture of a man walking toward a guillotine. I slid off the barstool and gave a half-hearted shrug.

“I’ll go to my room,” I whispered. “Give you privacy.”

He didn’t stop me. I slipped down the hall and closed my bedroom door, cracking it just enough to hear what was said, even if it made me feel gross. I wasn’t proud of eavesdropping, but self-preservation won out.

The front door opened, and Lucien’s voice roared inside like a storm.

“You really thought I wouldn’t find out? Roman, you are a terrible liar.”

There was a pause, heavy with implication.

“I should string you up by your tail,” Lucien continued. “But lucky for you, I have a proposition.”

Now I was really listening.

“I need someone I can trust,” Lucien said. “Someone with backbone. Nicholas is knocking on death’s door. He’s been holding that beta seat together with duct tape and sheer spite. When he’s gone, I’ll need a replacement.”

There was silence, and then Roman’s voice, low and hesitant. “I knew he was sick, but I didn’t know he was dying.”

“Of course not. He doesn’t want anyone to know. But your time to shine is coming, Roman. I’m offering you your rightful place—if you can prove you’re ready for it. That means settling down with a real mate. Not a roommate.”

The silence that followed that sentence could’ve shattered glass.

“I don’t want to be told who to mate with, Lucien!”

I almost gasped. I don’t think Roman had ever stood up to Lucien like that in his life. My hand trembled on the doorframe.

Lucien chuckled. “Let’s wait and see what you have to say about my choice. Look who I found.”

I held my breath. Then I heard a soft, feminine voice.

“It’s been years, Roman. But I’ve never forgotten you. I would be honored to stand by your side.”

“Willow?”

And just like that, my heart sank into my stomach. Willow. The girl who got away. His one and only real love.

I stumbled back from the door, my breath catching in my chest.

Lucien clapped his hands like a man who’d orchestrated the end of a chess match. “Let’s get going. We can discuss business on the way to the mansion.”

I heard Roman hesitate. “Let me check on Maggie first.”

“No time,” Lucien said. “You can check on her later.”

There was a long pause before their footsteps moved toward the door. My head was spinning. I couldn’t stop hearing that voice. That name.

And then the door closed behind him.

Leaving me alone with a fresh, brand-new crack in the center of my heart.

I wasn’t thinking clearly, which was probably why I shoved an entire drawer of mismatched socks into a duffel bag like I was preparing for war.

The truth was, I couldn’t stay here. Not another hour. Not another minute surrounded by his things. His scent. His memory pressed into the throw pillow on the couch and his hoodie hanging crookedly on the wall hook.

In the bathroom our toothbrushes stood side by side like little sentinels watching over our intermingled toiletries.

My face wash next to his shaving cream, my moisturizer next to his shaving balm.

Two tubes of toothpaste. One a mangled mess and one precisely rolled from the bottom.

Knowing it would be Willow’s items mingled with his soon, I smothered a sob and removed every last trace of me from the room.

This wasn’t an apartment anymore. This was a mausoleum for everything I wanted and couldn’t have.

Roman was gone. He’d walked out that door with Willow and hadn’t looked back.

Maybe he was finally getting everything he ever wanted.

His rightful place in the pack. The woman he’d once told me was his forever.

Maybe they were riding in Lucien’s gaudy SUV right now, catching up, smiling at one another, finally closing the loop on a story that was always meant to circle back to her.

And I… What was I? The intermission girl. A safe harbor until his ship came in.

I wiped angrily at my cheek as another tear fell and grabbed the nearest pile of jeans. My hands trembled as I stuffed them into a bag. I didn’t bother folding. I didn’t care anymore.

If he wanted his old life back, who was I to stand in the way?

I zipped my suitcase too hard, and the zipper caught. I cursed under my breath, tugged until it gave, and stared at the suitcase like it had betrayed me too.

A knock rattled the door. I froze, heart jumping to my throat.

Roman?

Maybe he’d forgotten his key. Maybe he’d come back because he had something to say. Maybe—

I practically flew to the door, yanking it open so fast I almost threw out my shoulder.

It wasn’t Roman.

“Doris,” I said, blinking.

She was holding a Tupperware container, her glasses perched at the very tip of her nose, and her mouth puckered like she had something sour to deliver.

“Is he back yet?” she asked, peering over my shoulder.

I shifted in the doorway, wiping my face quickly before the tears gave me away. “No. Not yet.”

Doris nodded, then looked me up and down. Her gaze flicked to the open suitcase visible over my shoulder. “Going somewhere?”

I hesitated. “Taking a trip.”

“Well.” She stepped closer, clearly not done. “I debated whether or not to say something, but I’ve had my suspicions for a long time, and what I heard today only confirmed them.”

I stiffened. “What do you mean?”

Doris glanced down the hallway like she was worried the wallpaper might be listening. “I was delivering banana pudding to Apartment B when I passed by your door earlier. I heard Roman talking to someone—two someones, in fact. And I know I shouldn’t have, but I… I stopped and listened.”

My stomach turned. “Doris—”

She raised a hand, silencing me like I was one of her grandkids. “I’m not proud of it, but I had to be sure. And now I am. He’s one of them, isn’t he? A… shifter?”

The word hung in the air like smoke.

She crossed her arms. “I heard him mention the pack. And someone dying. And a girl named Willow who sounded like she belonged in a Hallmark movie. And don’t you dare try to lie to me, Margaret. I’m old, but I’m not senile.”

I bit the inside of my cheek, trying to calm the sudden flood of panic crashing through me. “What are you going to do?”

Doris lifted her chin. “Roman has three days to pack up his things and vacate the apartment. He’s in breach of contract.”

I opened my mouth, but the words didn’t come. Not that I had much fight left in me. Not after today. Not after Willow.

But something tugged at me. Some small ember that refused to burn out. Roman didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve to lose everything—again—just because of who he was.

I took a breath, forcing my shoulders straight. “Look, Doris… I get it. The supernatural stuff can be scary and confusing. But Roman’s a good guy. The best, actually.”

Her mouth twisted. “He lied to me.”

“To protect himself,” I said quickly. “To survive. You think it’s easy being what he is in this world? You think he had a line of landlords dying to give him a two-bedroom apartment and a parking space?”

She didn’t answer.

“He pays rent early every month. He shovels the walkway before the sun’s even up when it snows. He fixes the leaky faucet without calling you. And he cleans up all his shedding. Like… obsessively.”

Her brows lifted a little. “He sheds?”

I nodded. “A lot. But you’d never know because he vacuums constantly. It’s borderline maniac.”

That got a slight twitch at the corner of her mouth. Maybe a suppressed smile. Or maybe a muscle spasm.

“He’s kind,” I added, softer this time. “To me. To everyone. He’d never hurt a fly.”

Doris tapped her Tupperware. “You’ve given me a lot to think about.”

“I hope you do think about it.”

She turned and started walking away. “No promises.”

She disappeared down the hall, her orthopedic sandals slapping against the floor. I closed the door, the latch clicking into place with a finality that made my stomach ache.

Roman might lose his home.

I already had.

I took one last look around the apartment—at the empty coffee mug on the counter, at the throw blanket he always said smelled like me, at the couch where we’d played truth or dare like teenagers.

Closing my last suitcase, I picked up my keys and carried my bags to the car. After stowing them in my trunk, I slid into the driver’s seat.

I wasn’t running, but I also couldn’t keep standing still, hoping he’d choose me.

Because maybe he already had chosen.

It just hadn’t been me.