Page 11 of My Big Fat Shifter Wedding

And my classes, of course. Although they were still relatively new, I took them seriously. People paid for them, and even if I was more stable financially now, I didn’t fuck with other people’s money.

Which was why I made sure to check my supply list one last time before I finally turned in for the night. I may not have had a real purpose in my life at the moment, but I truly enjoyed helping others find joy in the woodworking craft.

At least that was one thing I added to the world.

3

OLIVIA

EXPANDING HORIZONS

“This is for you.”

Papa looked down at the paper I handed to him. I could have emailed it, but I knew my parents would prefer something physical in this instance.

“What is this?” he said in thickly accented English. I’d grown so used to it that I hardly noticed anymore. Honestly, it was a wonder I didn’t sound more like him. He’d been very hands-on in raising all of us, and I wasn’t really that active in human society like Ginna or my real-estate brother.

“Those are my resignation papers. I know two weeks’ notice is customary; however, I’m staying on long enough to train Cecilia in my position. At a reduced capacity, of course.”

My parents looked at me like I had just announced I’d turned into a wolf hydra blend and two of my heads were having a torrid affair with each other.

“Resignation?” my mother repeated like it was a foreign word. “I don’t... Is this a prank?”

I hated the hurt that I saw in her eyes, and the instinct to back down reared its ugly head. But I didn’t let myself, even if it would be the easier route.

That throwaway comment from Rolando on my birthday had opened my eyes to something I had been tiptoeing around all my life but never been willing to fully acknowledge. And that was that my family didn’t always treat me the best.

It wasn’t abusive. No, not by a long shot. But being one of seven children with dozens of cousins, it was difficult to get quality time with my parents. Since I was about ten years old, I had slipped into the “helper” category. It had become less of a singular trait of mine and more of a defining position of my entire existence within the pack. Within my own family. I was a background character in my own life, providing support but never daring to demand enough for myself.

That was gonna change.

Even if change was terrifying at my age.

The older members of the pack would laugh at the idea of thirty being old, but it was a major milestone for me. A real entryway into full adultness, and I was stepping into it unprepared. Unformed. I’d been living my life to help and please others for so long, I didn’t have much of an identity for myself outside of being the person who made sure everyone’s existence went smoothly.

“No, not a prank,” I said, trying to inject as much warmth into my voice as I could. Although I didn’t like the way my family treated me sometimes, that didn’t mean I loved them any less. I adored my parents and didn’t want them to think this was expressly their fault. We’d all allowed it to happen, so we would all have to make some adjustments. “I’m completely serious.”

Which was growing exceedingly more difficult by the moment, because I really wanted to crack a joke to break the tension that was rapidly ratcheting up in the air.

“Resignation letter?” my father asked, looking at the paper as if he hadn’t heard a word my mother and I just said.

“Yes,” I said patiently. I couldn’t blame him for being a little out of sorts. I didn’t know if it was our shifter nature or being Italian, but we Rizolis didn’t enjoy change.

“Resignation letter.”

“Yes,” I repeated, only slightly less patient. My father needed a little extra time, extra assurance catching up to the moment.

“For you?”

“For me.”

“And this is a resignation letter?”

Okay, now we were crossing into a territory where I felt a bit less generous about his shock.

“Yes. Papa, Mama, I’m stepping away from the family business so I can do things I’ve put on the back burner for way too long.”

“Back burner? Like what?” my mother asked.