We make our way to a booth selling hot drinks, where a cheerful woman with rosy cheeks serves us steaming cups topped with whipped cream and candy cane pieces.
“To surviving ice skating,” Finn raises his cup in a toast.
“To new friends,” I add, my cup meeting his with a gentle tap.
“To Christmas in Snowflake Valley,” Everett chimes in.
“To getting laid,” Charlie cheers. “What? It’s been a while, OK. My vagina is practically in a coma.”
“Charlie!” Everett says, exasperated.
She shrugs. “Just keeping it real. Christmas isn’t all wholesome family fun, you know. Sometimes it’s about finding someone to keep you warm on these cold winter nights.” She winks at me. “Or multiple someones.”
My face flames while Gabe simply raises his cup, his eyes meeting mine over the rim as he takes a sip.
Standing there with them, surrounded by twinkling lights, I feel something I haven’t felt in a long time, maybe ever: like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be. And for once, I’m not worried about what happens next, or who I might be disappointing, or what I should be doing instead.
I’m just here, present in this perfect moment.
19
Gabe
Tonight was a success.
Melody has gone to bed, and Finn is taking a shower, but I’m restless. My mind is replaying moments from tonight on an endless loop. Melody’s laugh as she attempted to skate with Finn. Seeing them together and imagining her with us is driving my alpha instincts crazy in ways I can barely control.
I take a sip of bourbon, letting the warmth slide down my throat as Finn comes to meet me in the living room, hair damp from his shower, wearing only pajama bottoms that hang low on his hips, and I can’t help but stare at the line of his abdomen as he stretches.
For a guy who spends his days reading, Finn has a surprisingly sculpted torso. Not gym-rat abs—he’d never be caught dead in one of those—but a wiry, swimmer’s build you wouldn’t expect from someone who lists “sedentary activities” asa hobby. His skin has gone a shade paler in the winter, dotted here and there with faint freckles I know by heart.
Even after three years together, the sight of him still does things to me. He’s beautiful in a way that’s different from alphas or omegas, no overwhelming scent to cloud judgment, just the pure, honest attraction that comes from loving someone.
“You’re brooding,” he says, padding up to me. “I can hear the gears grinding from here.”
“I’m thinking.”
“Same thing.” He stops in front of me, takes the glass from my hand, and sets it on the side table. “Penny for your thoughts?”
“Inflation. Make it a dollar.”
He straddles my lap in one fluid movement, knees pressing into the couch on either side of my thighs.
“How about I pay in other ways?”
His lips find mine, and I let myself get lost in the kiss. He tastes like mint toothpaste, and his delicate scent of books and nutmeg is just the right blend.
Perfection.
“Better than thinking,” I agree.
“Much better.” His hands slide under my shirt, cool against my warm skin. “You were incredible today. All lumberjack-y, then all sweet and attentive.” His fingers trace the muscles of my abdomen. “Very sexy.”
“Yeah?” I pull him closer, my hands dropping to his ass.
“Yeah. The way you skated with Melody…” He rocks his hips against mine. “The look on your face when you almost kissed her…”
“Finn, I—”