“I’d like to propose a toast,” he said, while I took my own seat, plopping a napkin in my lap. “On our one-year anniversary. I still cannot believe it when I open my eyes every day to my beautiful wife and partner. And as if that weren’t enough, we have you all as part of our lives, and the best daughter we could have ever wished for.” He beamed at Em. “To family.”
“To family,” everyone chorused, raising glasses of fine red wine, and in Em’s case, grape juice.
In deference to Sam and his shifter ways, Julian had rushed to set platters of food on the table so we could immediately dig in. But as everyone reached for the meal, Zoe clinked the side of her glass as well.
She rose, holding Hazel’s hand, and my mouth dropped as I noticed the rings sparkling on their respective fingers. Somehow I’d missed it until this moment. Before she could say anything, I rushed around to tackle them both in a huge hug.
“Congratulations,” I yelled.
“Thanks for ruining the announcement,” Zoe grumbled.
“We’re engaged,” Hazel said to the table at large. “These two are amazing poster children for marriage.”
Sam set down his cup and stood then, shocking me. Em giggled as if she were in on a joke.
Clearing his throat, Sam shifted from foot to foot before turning to his right and locking eyes with Lydia, who looked like she’d frozen in place with a serving spoon full of potatoes halfway to her plate.
“Don’t you dare, Wolfman,” she warned.
A phone buzzed, interrupting the tense moment, and Julian pulled a shiny red cell from his pocket. Our eyes met over the table.
“Really?” Zoe complained. “It’s your anniversary party.”
“We took a pledge when we started the new business.” I shrugged apologetically. “What is it, Julian?”
“There’s been a murder on Staton Island,” he said. “Apparently, numerous videos are going viral of what looks like a werewolf ripping apart several tourists.”
My shoulders slumped. SHADE had been replaced by a new governing body with representation of each sect on the board and duly elected officials. But it was still new, and some supes had been testing the waters lately, acting out in public. The new acronym was SCOR Supernatural Committee of Oversight and Regulation.
Which technically wasn’t our problem. But Julian and I had opened a new consulting agency of our own for supernatural creatures that had no where else to turn but were wary of governing bodies because of SHADE’s demise. Carver and Carver inevitably crossed purposes with SCOR on occasion. The red phone was our work phone, which meant someone had hired us to not only get to the bottom of the rogue shifter but do damage control.
“We’ve got the munchkin,” Lydia said, seemingly glad for the interruption.
Em pumped a small fist in celebration.
“Bedtime is nine,” Julian warned as I moved around the table to join him and open a portal to New York.
“We’re still eating the steak,” Sam announced, plopping one on his plate as he sat back down.
“Please do,” Julian answered. “We shall celebrate another time.”
Taking his hand in mine, I spoke through our bond. Consider this foreplay. You and I can continue our private celebration afterward. And with a wink, I pulled him through the portal.
