“Fine, fine, fine. I love you—and that’s my final answer.”
“I love you, too, Harry Emmerson.” So, so much.
Since the night Leah had taken the children, they’d overcome so many personal obstacles. Helping the children adjust to losing Donna the right way. By remembering her.
Once a week, just before bedtime, while they had milk and cookies freshly baked by Mara, she had instituted “Donna Day,” wherein they looked at old pictures of Donna and Harry growing up together. Pictures of them as babies, with their parents, smiling in the bathtub, with their first birthday cake slathered on them from head to toe. Swinging in the swing they’d once had out in their old backyard.
They were encouraged to talk to her—tell her how much they loved and missed her. Sometimes it hurt. Sometimes Harry struggled with the words of his memories. Sometimes they cried—all of them. But they did it together—as a unit, learning to bond, finding their way out of the darkest night of their lives and knocking hard on happiness’s door.
And little by little, week by week, while they all repainted Mimi’s room purple as a family, when they read books together at bedtime, when they played laser tag or had a picnic in the park with Grandpa Arch, the open wounds began to heal. Nowadays, there wasn’t nearly as much sadness as there was great joy and laughter in honor of Donna’s memory.
Mara smiled as much as Harry and the kids—she smiled because it was during “Donna Day” that she relayed memories of her own mother and father. And one night she invited Keegan and Sloan to join them—and together, as a growing extended family, she began to heal her own private wounds by sharing her own pain with her brothers. By finding peace with their pain, too.
And it was good.
Adjustments had been a little tough at first. Harry had to learn to be a parent, not the fun uncle, and Mara had to help. They’d spent long nights, researching parents’ blogs, reading, laughing, making incredible love, and in all of that, they found a deeper love than either of them could have ever imagined.
It scaled the walls of the role Harry had been thrust into and the one Mara had always yearned for. It was full of mutual respect, communication, admiration, and most of all, trust.
Mara had been cleared of all charges in Harry’s turning, and with the promise that the serum she’d created would be brought to the council to discuss the possibility of beginning a surrogacy program.
Score one for female werewolves everywhere.
Guido had become a constant in their lives as of late. After all, he had, in fact, thrown his life in the mix to distract Leah and save Mara. Neither Harry nor Mara would ever forget that. And as he came around the cottage more and more often, showing up suspiciously when Astrid was around, Mara grew to love him.
It seemed his witch doctoring ways didn’t go so awry when he was around those of his own paranormal ilk—not to mention, he and Astrid were cute as a button together.
Astrid was like a whole new woman as she fell in love with Guido. Her insecurities, the ones that had made her so touchy and moody, seemed to melt away beneath the glow of Guido’s smile.
They’d spoken of Leah and that horrible night once—after going to her parents to tell them of her death. No one understood what in Leah had snapped, or if she’d always been in the process of breaking. Not even her parents knew what had created the Leah they’d witnessed that dreadful night.
But none of them were enough amateur-psychiatrist-curious to find out. Instead, they all talked about it—together, alone, in various groupings, and then each of them opted to move forward—let go.
They were all also there when Harry, Mimi, Fletcher, and Coconut asked Mara to marry them—at a mini Deep Space Nine gathering with some of Harry’s online friends. There were tears, smiles, laughter, and so much happiness, Mara couldn’t help but cry when they all got on one knee and asked her to be their mommy-wife.
And here they were today, on a gorgeous day in late June, with their family and friends, laughing, smiling, celebrating.
Mara tugged at Harry’s tie. “So I guess this means I’m Mrs. Harry, not Harold, Emmerson now, huh?” She stood on tiptoe and kissed him, sighing when he wrapped his arms around her waist.
“Mrs. Harry for short, don’t you think?” he asked, cupping her to his chest as she watched children in their Sunday best play in the sunshine, Guido and Astrid huddled in a corner sharing a glass of purple punch Mimi herself had created with Aunt Jeannie.
Nina batted at Wanda’s hands, lathering her up with sunscreen, complaining as she did until her mate Greg brought over little baby Charlie and handed her to his wife with a doting grin. Chubby and the spitting image of the dark, beautiful Nina, she swung her up in the air, making baby Charlie melt into a fit of giggles.
Keegan and Marty danced slowly to a song the pack band played on a floor especially made for their wedding spot, their hands entwined, heads together.
Heath, Wanda’s mate, moved through the crowd toward her, grabbing her hand and twirling her in a spin to the dance floor where he dropped kisses on her lips.
Jeannie and Sloan teased and flirted, despite the fact that they were married now, giggling as though they had a secret only they knew about. Archibald chased after children, his aging cheeks red, his belly full of hearty laughter.
And Mara nodded. Yes. Yes, yes, yes. Tears stung her eyes—tears of complete peace and happiness. “Mrs. Harry, it is.”
“So, Mrs. Harry, you wanna go and see about making some babies the old-fashioned way? You know, no vitaminwater. Just you, me, and some serious naked.”
“Are you kidding me? If there’s no vitaminwater in the mix—I’m out. Where’s the fun in that?” she teased.
“Well, maybe I can convince you?” he uttered against her lips, running his hand over the swell of her hip.
She sighed into his mouth, bracing her hands on his chest. “Oh, I dunno, Mr. Harry. You’ll have to work hard. So hard.”
And as Nina once more called out the question they’d all grown used to, “Where’s Carl? Has anyone seen Carl?” and as Wanda fussed over Archibald secretly giving the children too many sweets and as Marty yelled at Nina not to rip her dress, Mara decided there was nothing in the world that compared to this.
Harry released her lips and pulled her toward their secret spot, a spot they’d found one night on one of their full moon runs—secluded and hidden. “Hard you say? No worries, honey, I got this,” he teased with a grin, using the familiar phrase they’d made their own.
As Mara followed behind him, his back wide and strong, his hand firm, she prevented him from almost tripping, and listened with satisfaction for his familiar, “I’m okay!”
Giggling and completely forgetting how naughty it was to run out on their wedding reception, she smiled.
Yeah.
They had this.
The Accidental Werewolf 2: Something About Harry (Accidentally Paranormal Novel) Page 31