Page 42 of Little Howl of Moon

I snorted as I went to the counter. “What? Am I not good enough?”

Everyone loved Oliver. Despite our worries about our lives meshing together, they’d ended up fitting perfectly. His daughters were cool and we’d already had a few family dinners that ended in nothing but laughter and joy. Both of us were so happy.

Though it was tough knowing I’d gotten my happy ending, while Layla was suffering.

But, every time I was seen without Oli at my hip, he was asked about.

“Oh, come on,” Bell laughed. “Obviously not. I don’t want to talk to you unless your mate is with you.”

“Fucker,” I mumbled. “I was told at some point I will get free coffee here.”

“I’m absolutely certain that’s not true,” Lucy laughed. “But for your mate? Yes, of course.”

The Barista was quiet as he made a latte, his gaze darting between the three of us.

“Okay, well, mymatewants two coffees—one of them with bone broth—and the cinnamon roll focaccia loaf if you’ve got one.”

“I don’t know if we?—”

“We have one,” Uncle B interjected, his throat working. “I put it in the back earlier. I had a hunch you might stop by.”

I held his gaze, some of my resentment melting just a smidge. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” He finished making two lattes and slid them across the counter to me. He glanced over at Bell and Lucy, his cheeks turning red. “Steel, I am deeply sorry. I know we haven’t talked since . . .”

“Since you severed Layla’s bond with Death,” I said bluntly.

The Barista opened his mouth, but then a mirror flickered behind him. I frowned as the air immediately chilled.Uhhh.

There was someone in the mirror.

But it wasn’t someone. It was two someones?

Two . . . ghosts? Phantoms? Both wearing masks. Tall, devilishly handsome, and onlyslightlytransparent, stuck in the mirror behind the Barista.

The Barista groaned, his eyes rolling. “You’ve got to be joking. I don’t even want to look.”

Bell crossed his arms at the mirror. “Who the fuck are they?”

Lucytsked. “Manners. They’re guests.”

“I learned my manners from you.”

“Yes, well. That’s a good point. Carry on.”

The phantom on the left cocked his head, his gaze locking on the Barista. “We’re here for our mate.”

“I am not currently matching,” the Barista growled. “Get the fuck out of our cafe mirror.”

I honestly shouldn’t have been shocked this could even happen, but I still stared, my jaw unhinged.

“He’s grounded,” Lucy said to the two phantoms in the mirror politely. “Creature Cafe is open for coffee and pastries, and that’s it.”

“We do not care what yousayyou are open for,” the other phantom snarled. “Youarematching us.”

“I will not match anyone,” the Barista said again.

“Then we’ll go to the other one.”