"What? No. I need to know where it is first."
"Then it won't be as much fun. Please trust me on this, Harper. I promise you'll have a great time." She sighed out a long breath through her nostrils and thought in silence for several long seconds.
"Okay, it's a yes. I'll come with you," she said at last. He leapt toward her, arms outstretched, as if to pull her into a hug. But at the last moment, he remembered. He dropped his arms and stood by her side instead, grinning like a little kid on Christmas morning.
"That's the best news I've heard in a very long time! You won't regret this, Harper."
"It'd better be someplace good, Rocco. I don't want to go somewhere that's overrun with nasty humans. Especially those ones who are always broiling their skin in the sun." He laughed, knowing she was only pretending to be so severe.
"It'll be somewhere you've always wanted to go, I promise. So, we'll leave next Saturday morning, and stay for five days. You'll need to pack summer clothes and a jacket."
"City or nature?"
"City." Her lips parted. Shifters didn't hang out in cities. Cities stifled them.
"I know what you're thinking, but you'll definitely like this one."
He continued to tidy up the porch and the garden, every part of him fired with enthusiasm. She watched him move, those taut, bulging muscles straining beneath his clothing, and her heart was shot through with regret. Everything was so almost perfect. But so many things lay behind that 'almost'. They used to spend hours talking about all the places they were going to visit, all the things they were going to do. And they could have that life now. But all the intimacy and love that used to cement their dreams together was missing.
Harper woke up on Monday morning feeling cranky and low. "Why did I agree to this trip?" she muttered to herself as her bear sprung out of her, ready for her early morning run. Rocco had put a spell on her the day before. Making her breakfast; wearing one of those white t-shirts that suited him so well; lulling her into thinking that things were normal between them. He'd always been so persuasive, always known how to access her softer side. She let off a roar of frustration as she left the cabin and headed for the woods. The truth was that even though all those years had elapsed since they'd last been together, there was still no-one who knew her like he did. No-one else knew how to push her buttons. She couldn't help feeling like she was always the conciliatory one. She'd given everything – first her heart, which he'd rejected, and then her life, for the good of the clan. And now she was giving something else to make him feel good. She snarled and leapt at a nearby tree, tearing up the trunk with her razor-sharp claws. Why am I always so goddamn nice? she growled. I could back out of it, tell him that I've changed my mind. But she knew, as the thought flashed across her mind, that she wouldn't do that. Harper Waverly didn't change her mind, back out of things, let people down. She was a bear of her word. How tedious, she thought as she tore another chunk out of the tree.
To her relief, Rocco wasn't around all week. He was away on a wrestling training course with the young bears. But as the week progressed, her gloom deepened. She enjoyed her days teaching the kids at kindergarten. They were a great bunch. Different from her previous class – more aggressive and competitive, as fitted the offspring of such a famous clan – but equally loveable. But then in the evenings, she moped around the cabin alone. She loved helping other people, she really did. But she often wondered when it would be her turn.
On Friday night, she packed her suitcase listlessly, more annoyed than intrigued that she didn't know what kind of clothes she'd need.
"Jump in," Rocco called, early the next morning, pulling up in a low-slung red car with a throaty engine. Harper opened the door and sat down on the soft leather seat.
"So, where we going?" she demanded.
"Not telling," he replied with a grin, and the sporty car took off fast.
"At least tell me how long the drive is."
"Okay. Around about two hours."
"What? We're not even leaving the state?"
"I didn't say that." His grin was getting wider and wider and she had to fight the impulse to slap him.
"I hate it when you do this!" she exclaimed. And then she cringed at the familiar tone of her words. She was acting like they'd been together for years. Rocco pulled his aviators down on his nose and flashed her a sideways look. On anyone else, it would've looked pathetic, but on him it was cool. And sexy. He looked maddeningly sexy today, she acknowledged with annoyance. He'd grown his sideburns long and had his hair cut shorter, and it suited him.
"Patience, feisty one," he said. "It'll be worth the wait, I promise."
Harper folded her arms and glowered as the miles sped by.
Soon, there were a lot of signs for the airport, and a few minutes later, Rocco was pulling into the long-stay parking lot.
"We're taking a plane?" she murmured. She looked in her purse for her ID, thinking that it would be funny if she'd left it at home and she couldn't get on the plane. "Now are you going to tell me?" she demanded as Rocco pressed a switch and the roof of the car rose out of the trunk and glided over their heads, before closing soundlessly.
"C'mon, Harper. Isn't it more fun to look at the departure board and guess? Can't we still have a little fun together?" She threw him a bad-tempered glance. But just as quickly, her grumpiness dissolved. It was really impossible to be angry in the face of such unaffected enthusiasm.
"Okay. Let's do it," she said. Whistling, Rocco pulled their bags out of the back of the car and took her arm.
"Let's do it!" he echoed.
"Wait. We're in the wrong terminal. It says 'international'," Harper said as they strode toward the check-in desks. Rocco grasped her around the waist and spun her around.
"I have a gift for you, Harper. You've got to close your eyes."
"What?"
"Just do it." Sighing, she stopped walking and did as she was told. "Hold your hands out." Something light and rectangular landed on her palms – like a very thin notebook. "Okay, open them." She blinked several times. It was like a notebook, except it was dark blue and embossed in gold, with 'Passport' written on it in big letters. She opened the first page and gasped. It was a brand-new passport. For her. There was her photo, and all of her details. Everything correct.
"You had a passport made for me?" was all she could say.
"Yup," Rocco replied, tipping his head back and giving her that look. "I sure did."
"But why?" He let off a burst of laughter.
"No reason at all." He spun her around again, so she was facing the departures board. "Now guess where we're going."
Harper stared at the list of exotic destinations, her lips parted.
"Rocco, I don't know. There are so many places. They all sound amazing."
"It's Paris!" he yelled, unable to restrain himself any longer. "I'm taking you to Paris, Harper!" She turned so she was facing him.
"What?"
"You've always wanted to go. That's why I'm taking you!"
"Bu-but," she stammered, blinking fast. His grin faded.
"You're not happy?"
"I am. I am. This is just a shock, that's all. I thought we'd be driving for a couple of hours, not flying halfway across the world."
"I know it's a little unexpected. But we'll only be flying for eight hours. We can sleep all the way, and when we wake up, we'll be in France!" She bit her lip.
"This sounds kind of crazy."
"Doesn't it?"
"I've never been on a plane before."
"Me neither. It's going to be great."
"Mmm."
"Harper? Are you okay?"
"Yes. I'm good. I'm excited!"
"Yay!" Before she knew what was happening, Rocco had picked her up and twirled her around, as if she was a puny human and not a full-grown female bear. She felt dizzy and shocked and elated, all at the same time.
They checked their luggage in, passed through security, and were soon enjoying a cappuccino while looking out of the airport's big windows at the planes coming in and taking off. Harper's body was buzzing with emotions: nerves, excitement, confusion. From time to time, she stole glances at Rocco. He just looked excited, and it made her warm to him. For the first time in many years, her anger toward him eased away. Who can help how they feel? she thought. If he'd realized that he didn't love her enough when they were teens, then it wasn't his fault. And the way he was treating her now proved that he was a good guy. He couldn't help the fact that he wasn't in love with her, and neither of them could help the fact that they had to be mated. Maybe they could be friends. He'd always been her best friend, as well as her boyfriend. She wasn't ready to have that conversation with him yet – her feelings were still too raw. But maybe, some day.