Page 112 of Monster. Me.

As we drive through the town center, I suddenly spot a grocery store sign through the window and practically shout, "Wait! I need to stop here and buy something!"

The attorney raises an eyebrow but signals the driver to pull over.

"Uh… any chance I could borrow some money?" I mumble, embarrassed. "I need to buy… um… pâté. Something really high-end."

Every guy in the limousine turns to stare at me. Complete silence falls over the car. They all have their mouths hanging open, like I’ve just said something completely unhinged.

"It’s important," I add quickly, as if that somehow makes it sound better.

"Okay, take my card," Godrick says, finally snapping out of it.

Five minutes later, I climb back into the limousine carrying a neatly wrapped, wonderfully fragrant package.

"They had pâté made with black truffles and aged cognac," I explain, trying to sound normal, but they’re still looking at me like I’ve lost my mind.

I decide not to offer any further explanation. After all, I can’t exactly say out loud that it’s for a cat shifter, who I hope will soon be my official boyfriend. Or husband! Dear Fate, I love the sound of this…

The car starts moving again and soon turns onto a narrow side road before beginning the climb uphill. The attorney glances at his phone and says,

"I have the address here… The house Marlow bought is called Cherry Hill."

"What?"

"Yes. We’re almost there. The property comes with a cherry orchard. The previous owner moved to France after finding his fated mate and wanted a quick sale, so the price was quite good. At least that’s what Mr. Nolan told us."

Oh, fuck… unbelievable!

I feel dizzy, like I can’t wake up from a dream, and I don’t want to.

Everything inside me is trembling.

The road is lined on both sides with cherry trees stretching away in long rows…

A flash of memory from my childhood surfaces: me walking with my dad beneath trees covered in blossoms. These trees aren’t covered in flowers, but instead with red fruit gleaming in the sunlight even from this distance…

Soon, another memory emerges.

My dad making cherry preserves. I lean over the table, and he hands me a spoonful of the sweet delicacy…

I fight to keep tears from my eyes.

This is the first time the memory has surfaced without being triggered by physical pain, but on its own, and that makes it sweeter, yes, more wistful, but also more precious.

Did my Marlow choose a house like this with my family’s cherry orchard in mind?

The limousine pulls up in front of a white house standing on top of the hill. It’s not as small as the one Marlow and I talk about, it’s a respectable size and could probably even hold a large family, wow.

And then…

It’s as if the air itself sparkles with magic glitter.

Between two white columns, a slender figure with long auburn hair appears.

The limousine hasn’t even come to a complete stop before I launch myself out of the door like a stone from a slingshot, barely touching the ground.

I sprint toward him along the path of colorful gravel winding between bright flower beds.

But one step before the stairs leading up to the house, I stop abruptly.