Chapter 88

The diner was a 1950s style burger joint, complete with black and white checked flooring and too-shiny red seats. The waitresses were wearing the same type of uniforms I’d seen in old movies, and Elvis played quietly over the speaker. One of the booths seemed to be made out of a classic car.

Elroy led me to one of the back corners, past the curious glances of the other patrons, and set us down in a booth at the back. The leather was stiff and less than comfortable, but something about this venue made that seem appropriate. I smiled as Elroy chose to slide in beside me, instead of across like I’d expected him to.

“I’ve never been somewhere like this,” I told him, grinning. “Diners, sure, obviously, but not ones themed like this.”

“They’ve got good food here,” Elroy said, pulling a menu out from behind the ketchup bottle. “It’s my favorite place to go when I get tired of fancy high-dining and just need a good burger.”

I smiled brighter, pleased to learn more about Elroy’s world before I entered it, and filed the information away for later. Elroy didn’t give me a lot of snippets about his young life, and ne I hoarded every one fiercely.

For a moment we were quiet, just looking over the menu. The other diners had turned back to their own meals, and for the first time I realized that this was actually a date.

It was funny to think of it that way when I was already married, Mated, and expecting this man’s child, but in all fairness we’d kind of skipped past the dating portion of our relationship. We’d eaten dinner together plenty of times now—Hell, at this point it felt strange to sit at the table without Elroy there with me—but this was different. This was public.

It was more exciting than it had any right to be, but I couldn’t say I wasn’t enjoying it.

"Tell me about where you grew up," Elroy rumbled, his voice surprising me. I blinked at him.

“You want to know about it?” I asked, my heart fluttering in my chest. We’d never just talked before, always learning bits and pieces about each other in between talks of pack drama and our unexpected parenthood. Some part of me never really expected to.

“Of course,” Elroy promised, putting his hand over mine. There was that slight sting of guilt on his face again, making my wolf whimper.

It’s not his fault he doesn’t know, she whined. There’s been no time, he shouldn’t blame himself.

“Well,” I smiled, something in my chest warm and soft, “there’s not a whole lot to tell. My childhood was pretty average until my dad got sick. I was in this drama club in middle school—"

I painted the picture of my childhood with fond strokes, watching Elroy’s expression as I described an elementary school prank war and the time our basement flooded. I wished he had similar stories to share, but if he enjoyed hearing about a regular childhood, who was I to deny him?

I learned that he had to special-order his pants, because they were always just a little too short, and that his favorite ice cream flavor was salted caramel, and that he loved tapioca but hated jello. I told him about the box turtle that lived in the pond by our house, who I’d named Fluffy, and he told me about how he’d wanted a pet rabbit ever since Iris read him Goodnight Moon as a little kid.

As conversation flowed, his laughter mixing with mine, I felt a little bravery take root in my chest. Maybe it was time to get a real gauge of where his heart was while we were both relaxed and happy? I didn’t risk second guessing myself, letting the words slip from my mouth before I could think too hard about them.

"You've been so sweet lately," I ventured, the words buoyed by a playful smile. "Keep it up and I’m gonna think this is our first date.”

His easy smile froze on his face, and I felt like I was splashed with ice water.

Had I gotten it all wrong, misinterpreted his recent tenderness? Was he not on the same page as me after all? By asking, had I dug the wedge between us even deeper?

"Elroy?" I probed, my voice a whisper. He looked down, his face going strained and contemplative, and I went to pull my hand away—only for him to turn his own hand over to weave our fingers together. I was confused; did he want me there or did he not?

The silence stretched between us, a tangible entity that seemed to pry into my anxious thoughts, but before I could spiral too far Elroy met my eyes with a vulnerable determination that had my breath hitching in my throat.

"Olivia," he said, "I'm sorry I've been... slow to navigate these things." His thumb caressed the back of my hand, a soothing rhythm that sent shivers up my arm. "The romantic things, I mean.

“I think you know that I’m…guarded, and I know it might seem like I don’t want to let you in, but I do,” he said earnestly, making my lungs stall. “I want to be better for you, to make up for all the hurt I've caused."

My heart thrummed with a mixture of elation and longing. The warmth of his touch seeped into my very soul, thrilling me with every gentle stroke. It was more than I'd hoped for, this tender gesture, and for him to be so honest with me about his emotions was—well, it was hard to describe how that touched me.

But he hadn’t told me his feelings, hadn’t told me how close he wanted us to be. He could just mean he wanted a strong partnership as Alpha and Luna, like we’d discussed at the very beginning of it all, or it could be he cared for me as the mother of his child but didn’t love me. Not like I loved him.

Had I been too quick to hope? Too eager to believe that his recent displays of affection were signs of a blossoming love rather than just dutiful care?

In the glow of his attention, it was easy to forget the times when the chill of his indifference had wrapped around my soul. Now his affections were like sunlight piercing through that cold, but was I reading too far into this comfort?

"Thank you, Elroy," I whispered, my voice barely above the soft clatter of cutlery around us. My wolf stirred within, restless and craving more—a declaration, a confession, anything that would mirror the depth of what I felt for him. I was almost mad at myself for wanting it so bad.

I’d said I would give him time, dammit, and here he was baring his soul in this random diner just to soothe me. I thought I’d been keeping my frustration behind bars, but clearly he’d noticed it somehow.

I watched him, this complex man—no, this evolving Alpha who was trying so hard to mend the fractures in our bond. He didn’t have to reassure me, but he did. So I donned a smile, a mask of contentment to keep the guilt from his shoulders.

"You don’t have to explain to me, Elroy,” I began, squeezing his hand in mine, but something about the look in his eyes cut me off. He was serious.

“I think I do,” Elroy insisted. “I need you to understand that I’m trying to reach back to you, and it’s my own insecurities keeping me from doing it. It has nothing to do with you—you are the perfect Luna, the perfect Mate, and you’ll be the perfect mother to our child. Please just…put up with me a little longer, and I’ll be able to show you.”

I took a deep, shuddering breath in. That was as good as a love confession, wasn’t it? But without those little words I would always second-guess myself.

The earlier guilt on his face made more sense to me now. He felt guilty that he was, what, leading me on? The thought terrified me.

But as I gazed into Elroy's eyes, searching for an answer, I found the honest effort of a man striving to be worthy. Whether that was his Alpha instincts demanding he be a good Mate and father, or if it was something deeper, I had no way of knowing.

“Thank you,” I murmured again, quietly bolstering my resolve. He’d had the bravery to ask me for more time with his emotions, no matter what they were, and I had a duty as a Mate and wife to respect that need. He hadn’t tried to force me to feel for him when I’d just ended things with Damian, I had to show him at least that much consideration in return.

I interlaced our fingers, feeling the callouses on Elroy's touch that spoke of battles and burdens. His smile softened hopefully, the lines around his eyes crinkling in a way that always set my heart to racing. It was a look I'd come to treasure, one that seemed reserved just for me.

"Olivia," he said, with a warm tentativeness that seeped into my very bones, "thank you. I like being here with you.”

"I like it too," I agreed, trying to hold onto the moment, to etch it into memory just in case it was all it would ever be.

The weight of his gaze held mine, flickering with something unspoken, and my pulse quickened. But what was it that stirred behind those stormy eyes? Was it the dawning of love or merely the comfort of companionship? I'd been so certain before, buoyed by hope and a yearning that perhaps blinded me to reality.

"Elroy," I started, the word hanging between us as I sought the right way to voice my fears without unraveling the delicate tapestry we'd woven this evening.

"Is everything okay?" He squeezed my hand, a lifeline thrown across the chasm of my uncertainty.

"Everything's perfect," I lied with a practiced ease, even as my wolf howled in protest within me. It demanded truth, it demanded certainty, but I could give it neither.

With our hands still joined, a silent communion passing through our entwined fingers, I found myself adrift in the space between what I felt and what I feared. The affection that flowed so freely from him now—was it the precursor to passion or just the comfort of familiarity?

His thumb brushed over my knuckles, a tender gesture that sent ripples through my being. Yet, no matter how fervent my hopes, I couldn't ignore the niggling thought that perhaps I was seeing what I wanted to see. After all, I'd convinced myself of fairy tales before, only to wake up alone amidst the ruins of my own making.

And so, as Elroy's gentle smile held steady, I clung to the sweetness of the moment while bracing for the possibility that I might be projecting my deepest desires onto a man whose heart was still learning to beat in tandem with mine.