“But…” She held up a finger. “If he breaks your heart, he’s evicted. On the spot. I won’t even give him thirty days. I’ll haul his furry little ass out with my own two hands.”
I barked out a laugh. I couldn’t help it. She said it with all the fiery conviction of a woman who once got dumped by a man named Harold in 1979 and swore vengeance on an entire gender.
“I’ll tell him,” I said, trying to contain my grin. “Thank you, Doris.”
She nodded. “And… next time, maybe wait until after business hours before doing whatever it is you two were doing. The walls are thin, sweetheart.”
My entire face flamed. Doris turned and shuffled off down the hall like she hadn’t just delivered a sexual TED Talk at my front door.
I closed it slowly behind me, resting my forehead against the wood for a second, trying to recover. When I turned back around, Roman was leaning casually in the doorway to the bedroom, one hand resting on the frame, a towel slung dangerously low on his hips.
His brow arched. “Everything okay?”
“Doris says you can stay.”
His eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas morning. “Really?”
“But,” I said, walking toward him and poking his bare chest with one finger, “if you break my heart, she’ll personally evict you.”
He laughed under his breath and pulled me into him. “That woman is terrifying.”
“I know. It’s why I trust her judgment.”
Roman kissed my forehead, then rested his own against it. “I won’t break your heart.”
I believed him. Not because he said it perfectly, or because it was the romantic thing to say. But because he’d shown me. Over and over again. In the smallest ways. And now, in the biggest.
He hadn’t chosen comfort or safety. He hadn’t chosen obligation or power. He’d chosen me.
Us.
I wrapped my arms around his waist, letting my head rest against his chest. His heart was steady. Familiar.
Home.
“You know,” I murmured, “we should probably come clean to Doris. About everything. The fake dating. The bond. All of it.”
Roman groaned. “You’re going to make me confess that I used this apartment as a cover for a magical mate arrangement?”
“You’re lucky she didn’t make you sign an emotional support werewolf clause in your lease.”
He pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “I’d do it. In a heartbeat.”
I knew he meant it.
Later, we curled up in bed, the sheets tangled again, our legs even more so. Roman traced lazy circles on my back as I stared at the ceiling, wondering how the hell we got here. But I wasn’t questioning it. Not anymore.
We’d earned this.
It hadn’t been easy. We’d hurt each other. Scared each other. Run in opposite directions more times than I could count.
But we’d come back. Again and again and again.
And that mattered more than anything.
“I’m glad you stayed,” I whispered.
Roman tightened his hold on me. Then, after a long pause, he murmured, “Me too.”
And in that moment, I knew with every beat of my heart: we were going to be okay.
I found the envelope taped to the fridge.
It was labeled in giant block letters:
“IMPORTANT LEGAL DOCUMENTS – DO NOT IGNORE.” Below it, in smaller handwriting:
“This means you, Maggie James.”
My first thought? Roman was finally kicking me out. Probably replacing me with a roommate who didn’t hog the throw blankets or sing Alanis Morissette in the shower.
Someone who didn’t cry over pizza commercials or collect hand-made pottery urns with no actual dead people in them.
Then I remembered: we were mates now. Bonded. Spiritually, emotionally, magically… and legally, if you counted Doris’s enthusiastic notarization of our lease renewal as binding under supernatural law.
Still, I opened it cautiously.
Inside was a stapled packet of paper. Eight pages. Front and back. With color-coded tabs and a Roman-style organizational legend that explained what the tiny wolf paw stickers meant. Apparently, the gold ones denoted “high emotional value clauses.”
I snorted before I even read the first line.
“OFFICIAL ROOMMATE AGREEMENT 2.0:
MATE EDITION”
I could already feel the smile forming as I sat down at the kitchen table, still wearing Roman’s hoodie and socks, and started reading.
Clause 1.1 – Rent Payment Schedule:
Maggie James, hereafter referred to as ‘
Queen of Snacks and Chaos,’ shall pay rent in the form of:
Actual human money, or
The continued supply of Trader Joe’s dark chocolate peanut butter cups, fresh blueberries, and shoulder massages while I am gaming.
Clause 2.3 – Bathroom Conduct:
Roman Velasquez, hereafter referred to as ‘
Loyal Alpha of Mild Domesticity,’ agrees to stop leaving beard trimmings in the sink like some kind of feral swamp creature.
That one had three gold paw stickers next to it.
Clause 3.7 – Blanket Fort Usage:
The construction of blanket forts for purposes of emotional support, seduction, or general whimsy is not only permitted but encouraged. Forts must include:
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