Well, Wilson was just going to have to keep delivering on his promises, so that she’d understand that it was real, and that she could have her heart’s desire. He was going to give it all to her.
On the table, Mavis’ phone buzzed, and she fumbled for it, letting the moment slip away. Wilson resolved that there were going to be many, many more moments like this one, until that fear was entirely gone from her face, and only happiness remained.
But as she looked at her phone, the happiness drained away.
“What is it?” Wilson asked. The fear was noticeable now, an anxious set to her mouth and a deep, unhappy look in her eyes.
“It’s Daryl,” she said shortly.
Her ex. Wilson took a careful, deep breath, making sure to keep his voice steady and even. “Has he done something?”
“It’s an email from him,” she said. “I have to go to the house and get my things. He’s included a list of the things he considers to be mine.” Her mouth twisted. “It’s very fair. I suppose I should be grateful.”
“You have nothing to be grateful for from that—” Wilson made himself stop. Calling her ex-husband names wasn’t going to help the situation at all. “You have to go to the house personally?”
“That’s what he says. He says I need to come myself, and I can hire movers or whatever I need to do, but he’s not letting strangers inside. I guess he’s going to be there.” Mavis sighed. “So I suppose I’m going to have to see him again, if I want any of my things.”
“Do you need them?” Wilson asked tentatively.
“My mother’s jewelry is in that house,” Mavis said. “And some other sentimental things. I certainly don’t need the furniture—it’s nicer than what I have now, but that’s not very important.”
Mavis, Wilson vowed, was going to have the absolute nicest furniture once he moved out here. Local, handmade, beautiful pieces. He had the money, and he wanted her to choose whatever she wanted.
“But I do need to go out there, at least for the jewelry. I want Nina to have some of it,” Mavis finished. She rubbed her eyes. “I wish I’d waited to check my messages until the party was over. God, I have to look for plane tickets—he wants me there sometime in the next week.” She lifted her head and looked at Wilson. “I’m so sorry. This isn’t the sort of thing you need to hear about.”
“Mavis, we’re mates,” Wilson said firmly. “I want to hear about all of your problems.”
“Not this,” Mavis objected. “No one wants to hear about their partner’s ex drama.”
“Especially this.” Wilson took her hand and laced their fingers together. “He treated you and your daughter awfully. He made your life a living hell. If he’s causing you trouble again, I want to help you with it. Now, what day do
you want to fly out? Tomorrow?”
“I suppose...I suppose it would be better to get it over with.” Mavis frowned. “Why do you ask? What are you going to do?”
“Come with you.” Wilson made his tone absolutely convinced, as though it was a done deal. “You shouldn’t have to face him alone.”
“Oh, Wilson...” Mavis’ voice trailed off. She bit her lip. “You shouldn’t have to do something like this! And so soon after we met. No, I should go alone.”
“I would much, much rather come with you than stay here, knowing that you’re out there alone facing him,” Wilson said gently. “Can you tell me honestly that you’d be happier going alone, rather than having me come with you? Because if it would truly make it harder to have me there, I’ll stay behind.” He mentally crossed his fingers, hoping she wouldn’t decide to insist. He’d have to abide by his word, if so...and he really, really didn’t want to.
But she said, “Of course it would be easier if you were there! Of course I don’t want to go back into that house by myself, face Daryl by myself. But it’s such an incredible thing to ask.”
Wilson wrapped her hand up in both of his, leaned forward, and met her eyes. “Mavis, we’re mates now. In shifter terms, that’s stronger than marriage. This,” and he indicated the rest of the room, the wedding-goers and the bride and groom, with a jerk of his head, “is just the social trappings of what’s already been true for months, for Lillian and Cal. And the same is true for us. We’re one unit now, and your problems are my problems. So nothing can be an imposition, because it already belongs to me as much as to you. Okay?”
There was that look again. Fear that it couldn’t be true, but a dawning hope that it might be. Wilson lifted up their clasped hands and kissed her knuckles. “Will you let me come with you to get your things?”
Slowly, Mavis nodded, and the hope began to outweigh the fear. Wilson’s heart rejoiced.
***
Mavis squeezed Wilson’s hand as the airplane touched down on the runway, breathing deeply.
It had only been a couple of days now that they’d been together—maybe only twenty-four hours, if she counted just from the moment at the wedding when she’d said she believed him—but she was already getting used to the feeling of his big hand engulfing hers.
Wilson seemed happiest when they were touching somehow. He always wanted to hold her hand, to put his arm around her, squeeze her shoulder, kiss the top of her head. And Mavis was drinking it all in. She felt as though she’d been cold for over seven years, and finally, finally she got to luxuriate in the warmth coming off of him. Both literal and metaphorical.
As the plane taxied to a stop, Wilson squeezed her hand back. “Are you ready?”