by Amy Star
“Coyotes aren’t exactly snuggly,” Harry pointed out dryly, sliding her a glance for a moment before looking out the windshield again.
“Then I guess it’s good that I don’t want to swan on up and pet one, isn’t it?” Cheyenne asked brightly, before rolling her eyes once again. “God, do you ever just chill the fuck out? If I say I want to get a drink of water, you fret about how it might be too cold. I’m having an infant. I am not actually an infant.”
One hand left the steering wheel, raising in a placating gesture. “Alright, I get it.”
Conversation was minimal after that, albeit not in an unpleasant way. The two of them alone together had never been the issue in their relationship, after all. That part had always been fine, even when there was nothing for either of them to say.
When the car finally came to a halt, Cheyenne was pretty sure they were in the middle of nowhere. If she squinted, she could sort of make out a few lights in the distance, though they weren’t bright enough to be from an actual town; she was willing to bet that it was from a nearby farm. She turned to ask Harry where exactly they were, only to close her mouth with an audible click of teeth when she saw him stripping out of his clothes as if it wasn’t a big deal. Evidently, he didn’t notice that she had been about to say something, as once he was naked, he transformed without comment.
There was something very surreal about standing that close to a bear that size. Cheyenne couldn’t say she was nervous—she knew he was still just Harry—but even so, some part of her hindbrain was shrieking at her that there was a bear right there. But she supposed she would get used to it eventually.
It was a beautiful night, though the moon was only a crescent rather than full. She supposed that answered the ‘can you only transform on a full moon?’ question.
Harry was looking at her expectantly, round ears angled towards her, before he turned and began lumbering away at a sedate pace. Cheyenne watched for a moment, just taking in the fact that she was about to follow a bear around the countryside, before she jogged after him to do just that.
It was a surprisingly relaxing night, all things considered. Other than Harry barreling full speed into a creek, splashing water in every direction like an enormous cannonball, nothing particularly exciting happened. But honestly, Cheyenne was alright with a lack of excitement, considering she was pretty sure she was going to get all the excitement she could take in just a few months.
Every so often, Harry would pause and look back at her. Sometimes, it seemed like he was checking on her, though to his credit he never actually made a fuss (granted, Cheyenne wasn’t sure how he would even go about doing that in his current shape), and sometimes he waited until he had her attention before jabbing his head towards something.
Plants, sometimes. Segments of scenery. Animals, more often than either of the previous. Things that Cheyenne wasn’t going to see in the city. She took pictures of as many of them as she could before her phone’s battery died, and then she simply appreciated them as they were pointed out to her.
(Coyotes were bigger than she expected. So were owls.)
It was a strange night, to be sure, but that didn’t make it a bad one. Cheyenne was almost surprised to note that she had no complaints.
The sun was coming up by the time they made it back to the car, streaks of orange and gold and pink rising from the molten gold horizon line. Cheyenne was going to guess they weren’t in a hurry, or else they likely wouldn’t have been there at all, and certainly not for so long. So, she hoisted herself up to sit on the hood of the car, watching the sun as it made its slow ascent.
A moment later, Harry sat down heavily beside the car, still shaped like a bear, and still large enough that his head was even with Cheyenne’s despite the fact that he was sitting on the ground.
He didn’t seem particularly keen on hurrying them along. In fact, he seemed content to just sit there and watch as the sky gradually brightened from dusty silver to pastel tie-dye, as if he had nowhere else in the world that he needed to be.
Cheyenne wasn’t even completely aware that she was moving until she finished leaning sideways, her shoulder pressed against his, her head partially buried in the fur of his neck. He made a startled grumbling noise, but that was it. If he minded her being there, he made no motions to disrupt her either way.
They sat in silence for nearly another half hour, until it was well and truly morning, even if the sky was still tinted pink and orange. And finally, Harry stirred, standing behind the car as he transformed back into his more typical shape and started getting dressed again.
Cheyenne slid an appreciative glance in his direction as he did, and he arched a knowing eyebrow at her, before rolling his eyes at the innocent look she plastered over her face, as if to silently ask him, ‘who, me?’
She slid back into the passenger seat as Harry got behind the wheel once again. The drive back into the city was quiet, and it was too early for them to hit any sort of traffic. It was comfortable.
CHAPTER FIVE
It hadn’t escaped Cheyenne’s notice that she had been lying for a rather long time at that point. By omission rather than fabrication, true enough, but the fact remained that she had been hiding a rather large detail from Harry, and considering the babies were going to be his just as much as they were hers, she knew she couldn’t just keep hiding it forever.
If nothing else, she was rather larger than most women would be when five months pregnant. Eventually, that size discrepancy was going to turn into something of a tell all on its own. So, she knew she had to say something about it.
…Sooner would probably be better than later, even if Cheyenne couldn’t say she was looking forward to the conversation.
It was an average evening. Completely normal. The weather was calm. The street and the neighbors were no louder or quieter than any other evening. The food was as good as it usually was. Really, there was absolutely nothing to set the night apart from any other blandly pleasant evening.
At least, not until Cheyenne uttered five words down at her still mostly full plate at the dinner table. “It’s not just one baby.”
Harry, his appetite considerably more voracious than Cheyenne’s, paused in his eating with his fork raised halfway to his mouth as he looked up at her, before he slowly lowered it back down to the plate.
“Sorry?” was all he said at first, evidently convinced that he hadn’t heard her properly.
“It’s not just one baby,” Cheyenne repeated, voice still steady. “I’m having triplets.”
Harry blinked at her slowly, and for a moment the kitchen was quiet enough that a pin drop could have been heard from across the house. Finally, he asked, “How long have you known about that?”
“Since I got here,” she answered, setting her fork down and shrugging one shoulder. “Since that first appointment.”
“And you just…haven’t mentioned anything about that.” There was something like anger in Harry’s expression, like storm clouds building in his eyes. He was going to argue about it, Cheyenne could tell.
Or at least, he wanted to argue about it. She supposed she always had the option of not giving him the choice to fight. She settled her hands on the table, palms flat against the wood and fingers splayed out, and her voice was just short of yelling as she said, “Of course I didn’t. You badgered me into staying here when I didn’t want to, after being a dick about basically everything. I had absolutely no proof that you would be okay with the idea of multiple children. No fucking shit I kept it to myself until I had a better idea of how you would react.”
Harry looked annoyed for only a moment longer, before his expression softened slightly, as confusion set in, until he looked well and truly unsettled. “How did you think I would take it?” he asked, bewildered.
“How was I supposed to know?” Cheyenne asked blandly. “Like I said, I was just waiting until I had more confidence that you wouldn’t be pissed off about it.” She shrugged once more and lifted her hands from the table, ins
tead folding her arms across her chest. Part of her wanted to simply get to her feet and storm out of the room before Harry could even say anything else, simply because she knew he probably had something to say about the matter. But that wasn’t who she wanted to be.
She had been denied the ability to participate in the conversation often enough that she knew she didn’t want to pick up the habit herself. She was going to be better than that no matter how much self-control it took.
Slowly, Harry sighed, lifting a hand to drag it down his face, as if the stress of all of existence had settled on top of him. “Alright,” he sighed. “You’re right.”
Cheyenne had no idea how she managed to keep a neutral face after she heard those words. Privately, she was going to consider it to be a miracle.
“I haven’t really been going about any of this the right way,” Harry conceded, “and you had good reason to think I might object. Which I don’t, by the way. I mean, I sort of expected it, a bit.” He huffed out something that was almost a laugh. “It’s pretty common for were-animals to have more than one kid at a time. But you aren’t a were-animal, so I figured that might not be the case this time.”
“And yet you never brought that up?” Cheyenne asked dubiously.
Harry’s eyebrows rose, and for a moment he looked profoundly unimpressed. “No one wants to be that guy who wonders if a woman is mistaken about her own pregnancy,” he drawled blandly in return.
Cheyenne couldn’t help the snort of laughter that escaped after that. “Fair point,” she acknowledged dryly. “And now everything’s been thrown out into the light.”
Harry nodded slowly, reaching for his fork again, though it seemed like the gesture was more just so he had something to do with his hand. “I suppose it is.” His fork tapped against the side of his plate.
There was silence again for a moment, until Cheyenne admitted reluctantly, “And I didn't want Lorraine to know.” Her voice was a low mumble, and she had to resist the urge to slide down as low as she could in her seat.
Harry’s eyebrows rose. “What does that have to do with not telling me?” he asked, bemused once again, and for a moment Cheyenne wished that she could just wave a magic wand and gift him with something that at least resembled self-awareness.
“You would have mentioned it to her,” she pointed out, very slowly and very patiently. “You like to talk about things that you’re excited about.”
For a moment, Harry looked mildly affronted, before his eyes drifted up and to the side in thought. Finally, his expression flattened, as if he was silently conceding. “Fair enough,” he said. He cleared his throat, “So, what, should I keep it a secret?”
Cheyenne waved it off. “Don’t bother,” she sighed, and she patted her belly with one hand. “It’s going to be pointless soon enough; pretty soon, I’m probably going to be way too big for it to conceivably be just one baby.” She shrugged one shoulder.
Harry nodded in understanding, though there was still something cautious about his expression until he eventually turned his attention back to what remained of his meal.
On the whole, the conversation went much better than Cheyenne had expected it to. And suddenly, as she picked up her fork and the tension began to fade, she realized she was famished.
CHAPTER SIX
To say that Cheyenne didn’t mind living in Harry’s house would be a bit disingenuous. She freely admitted that it was a gorgeous house and that she was comfortable, and on most days, she couldn’t even say that she wanted for anything.
The fact remained, though, that she was there largely against her will, and Daphne had felt like it was completely necessary to go with her to make sure she was safe. Over the past three months, that was not a detail that Cheyenne had forgotten, so she always had a bit of a rough time trying to tell herself that the house was like home.
She couldn’t say she disagreed with Harry’s company, or at least she couldn’t on most days. And for all of her dislike of Lorraine, Harry’s personal assistant was generally only there and unoccupied for very brief periods throughout the day, so Cheyenne didn’t have to deal with her at every waking moment. But even so, she didn’t want to be there, and yet she couldn’t just leave without Harry trying to strong arm her into staying.
He couldn’t force her to stay. Not legally, at any rate. But most of the time, she was too tired to argue about it, and truth be told, she wasn’t fully certain of what was growing inside of her. All of her appointments at the clinic had indicated a trio of perfectly normal babies, but she had no proof that wouldn’t change at the drop of a hat. And that made her nervous.
And so, she stayed. And if nothing else, she was content more often than not. And on the whole, she was content to contort herself a little. Or rather, not content, but resigned to doing so. It seemed as if Harry and Lorraine were content not to change, which meant it was up to Cheyenne to do so. Daphne, bless her heart, would grumble and grouse and glare and scowl every time she caught a whiff of Cheyenne softening her reactions so as to avoid an argument, but it all began to seem very performative when she never really did anything beyond that.
Though maybe that was unfair of Cheyenne. What was Daphne supposed to do? Pick a fight with the man who could turn into a bear or the woman who could turn into a lion? Neither option sounded like a good one, and both options sounded like they would end very badly for Daphne and everyone else.
So, Cheyenne kept most of her complaints to herself.
Granted, she was still very much aware that Lorraine was there. She never forgot that, and she never let herself get complacent enough to simply let Lorraine’s presence go unnoticed. If they were in the room together, Cheyenne knew.
She observed, for the most part. Cheyenne didn’t like Lorraine by any stretch of the imagination, but she still had to admit that Lorraine was strangely fascinating, if only because trying to piece together why she was doing what she was doing was an interesting brain game. So, Cheyenne observed, quietly and unstated.
There were never any enormous tells. Of course, there weren’t. Cheyenne hadn’t expected any, considering Lorraine seemed to go about her entire life pretending she was someone other than who she really was. Instead, the most interesting moments were frequently the smallest of them. The moments when Lorraine would forget herself for just a split second and address Harry as just that, rather than her standard “Mr Carmichael.” with too much fondness. Or the way her gaze would soften and linger when Harry turned away from her. The way she would smile just slightly and fuss with her hair for a second if Harry complimented her, or the way her face would turn just the slightest bit red if he congratulated her on a job well done. It came in a thousand small details just like that.
Lorraine loved Harry. Perhaps not as much as Cheyenne had, but she loved him all the same. And for a moment after the realization struck her, Cheyenne felt sad. Because that love was built on a foundation made of sand and gravel, wobbling with the slightest breeze and ready to come tumbling down without even a second of warning. That love had been built on…not quite lies, but none of it had been built on the truth.
Cheyenne knew Harry, after all. She knew that Lorraine was not the sort of person he would love. She was too underhanded and too cruel, too calculated and too double-edged. He didn’t know the real her because she never showed the real her, and the entire process of getting to know her would need to begin all over again if she was ever going to truly reveal herself to him.
Even the love itself had been built on something fake. Lorraine, as she presented herself, wasn’t even someone Harry would ordinarily have much interest in befriending. As sly and calculating as she may have been, she still wore the mask of bright and bubbling bliss. She presented herself as the good witch to a man who was more interested in sarcasm and cutting remarks in good fun. No, neither of Lorraine’s faces were likely to truly catch Harry’s attention, despite the fact that she had the looks to attract just about anyone. Instead, Harry was simply cordial, because it was what he
was good at, and he wasn’t so cruel as to act like his employees weren’t really people.
Cheyenne supposed she couldn’t fault Lorraine for falling for him, though. He was an attractive man, and he was charming more often than not, even when he was being dismissive. As it was, Cheyenne herself had only stumbled into his good graces on accident, and had they not had a drunken night together, she wasn’t sure if their relationship ever would have gone beyond the professional. If Harry hadn’t felt comfortable enough to be genuine—to be more than simply cordial and professional—if they hadn’t had that first fling in the bathroom at the banquet.
Cheyenne couldn’t even fault Lorraine for assuming that maybe Harry felt something for her as well, considering how much of her behavior he was willing to excuse or wave off. But there was one detail that Lorraine had neglected to take into account.
Harry Carmichael was an intelligent man who had carried his business from its slow beginnings to its world-wide domination. No one could argue that. But at the same time, he was an idiot. Once a thought or an idea was in his head, it could very well take a nuclear bomb to get him to reconsider it. And in his head, Lorraine was simply his personal assistant, and a good one at that, so any word to the contrary had to be inaccurate. It was easy to excuse her behavior when he examined it through that lens, Cheyenne imagined.