Chapter 13: Sweet Jealousy
1030words
"Morning, Luna," he said, his voice cracking slightly. "Any cinnamon rolls left today?"
This was his fourth visit this week, always arriving precisely at 10:15 AM when the bakery hit its mid-morning lull. Always ordering a single cinnamon roll that he'd eat at the corner table, stretching the process to last an improbable forty-five minutes while stealing glances at me when he thought I wasn't looking.
"Just pulled a fresh batch from the oven," I replied, sliding one onto a plate. "The usual spot?"
He nodded eagerly, a blush creeping up his neck as I waddled around the counter, my eight-month belly leading the way. As I set the plate down, he blurted, "You look really pretty today. I mean—the glow thing. Pregnancy suits you."
"Thank you, Liam," I said, fighting a smile. His crush was harmless and, if I'm honest, a little flattering. After years of feeling invisible in my own marriage, the transparent admiration was a balm to my still-healing confidence.
"Can I get you anything else?" I asked.
"Actually," he straightened, suddenly serious, "I was wondering if you needed help with anything? Carrying flour bags or... whatever. My mom says you shouldn't lift heavy things."
Before I could respond, the kitchen door swung open. Aiden emerged, flour dusting his dark hair, a smudge of chocolate on his cheek. Since moving into the apartment above the bakery with me two weeks ago—a tentative step toward reconciliation—he'd thrown himself into learning the business with surprising enthusiasm.
"Luna, the ganache is setting up nicely for the Hendersons' anniversary cake," he announced, then stopped short at the sight of Liam. His expression shifted subtly, eyes narrowing as he took in the boy's eager posture and proximity to me.
"Alpha North," Liam stammered, immediately dropping his gaze in deference.
"Liam," Aiden acknowledged coolly. "School day off?"
"Study period," the boy mumbled. "I, uh, just came for breakfast."
"At 10:15. For the fourth time this week." Aiden's tone was conversational, but I caught the possessive edge beneath it.
I shot him a warning look. "Liam was just offering to help with any heavy lifting."
"How thoughtful," Aiden replied, moving to stand beside me, one hand casually finding the small of my back. "But I've got that covered. Being her mate and all."
The emphasis wasn't subtle. Liam's face fell slightly before he recovered with a nod. "Right. Of course. I should probably get back to school anyway."
He hurried through his cinnamon roll in record time and left with a hasty goodbye, the bell jangling in his wake.
Once we were alone, I turned to Aiden with raised eyebrows. "Was that really necessary?"
"What?" he asked, the picture of innocence as he wiped down Liam's vacated table.
"Marking your territory. He's just a kid with a crush."
Aiden snorted. "A 'kid' with heightened wolf senses who's been scenting you every chance he gets."
"He has not," I protested, though I'd noticed Liam's deep inhales whenever I approached his table.
"Luna, he's here every day, staring at you like you hung the moon. It's not appropriate."
I couldn't help but laugh. "Are you actually jealous of a sixteen-year-old boy?"
"I'm not jealous," he insisted, though a flush crept up his neck. "I'm... concerned. About his intentions."
"His intentions are to eat pastries and daydream about the baker. Hardly threatening."
Aiden muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "I was sixteen once too" before disappearing back into the kitchen.
The next day, Liam returned at his usual time, though he seemed more subdued. He took his cinnamon roll to the corner table and focused intently on a textbook, only occasionally glancing my way.
Aiden, who had been uncharacteristically quiet all morning, emerged from the kitchen just as I was refilling the coffee urns. Without warning, he slid his arms around me from behind, one hand splaying protectively over my rounded belly.
"Need any help, mate?" he murmured, his lips brushing my ear.
The gesture was so unexpected—so unlike the careful distance he'd maintained even since moving in—that I nearly dropped the coffee pot. Public displays of affection had never been Aiden's style, not even in the early days of our marriage.
"I'm fine," I managed, acutely aware of Liam's wide eyes from the corner.
But Aiden wasn't finished. As I turned to face him, he cupped my cheek with surprising tenderness, his thumb tracing my lower lip. "You missed a spot," he said softly, brushing away imaginary flour before leaning in to press his lips against mine.
The kiss was gentle but deliberate, his scent enveloping me in a way that made my wolf purr with satisfaction. When he pulled back, his eyes held a mixture of possessiveness and something more vulnerable—as if the display had been as much for himself as for our teenage observer.
"Better?" I whispered, unable to keep the smile from my voice.
"Much," he replied, casting a pointed glance toward Liam, who was now staring fixedly at his textbook, ears burning red.
The boy finished his roll in record time and left with a mumbled goodbye, the bell signaling his hasty retreat.
Once we were alone, I swatted Aiden's arm. "That was shameless."
"Effective, though," he noted with satisfaction.
"You're ridiculous. He's harmless."
Aiden's expression turned unexpectedly serious. "Maybe. But you're mine, Luna. My mate. My..." he hesitated, the word still difficult for him. "My love. And I'm tired of pretending I don't care when others look at you that way."
The simple declaration—so long awaited, so casually delivered—stole my breath. "Aiden—"
"I know," he interrupted, suddenly self-conscious. "I'm not good at saying it. But I'm trying to be better at showing it."
As if on cue, our daughter kicked vigorously, making me gasp. Aiden's hand immediately found the spot, his expression softening as he felt her movements.
"She agrees," I said, placing my hand over his.
"Smart girl," he murmured. "Takes after her mother."
