Bigfoot’s Mate (Mates for Monsters: Sasquatch #3)

10. Deborah

CHAPTER 10

DEBORAH

Three days ago…

The rich aroma of a freshly ground Sumatran blend fills our underground café as I wipe down the counter. Not that it needs it—the polished stone surface already gleams—but keeping busy helps quiet the endless thoughts on a loop in my head.

"You missed a spot." Steph grins, pointing to a nonexistent stain.

I shoot her a look. "Very funny."

Somehow, the five of us have managed to transform this limestone cavern into a cozy little café for our coffee klatch, complete with rustic wooden tables, plush cushions, and fairy lights strung across the ceiling. It's like a Pinterest board come to life—if Pinterest had an "Underground Sasquatch Chic" category.

I’ve been trying not to freak out about the ticking clock in my head—but week three! We’re heading into week three of our time in Grotto, which means decision time is looming.

"Earth to Deborah.” Steph waves her hand in front of my face. "You're doing that thing again."

"What thing?"

"That thing where you zone out and stare into space.” She props her elbows on the counter. "Spill."

I shake my head. “I suppose I’m having an existential crisis."

"Ah." Steph nods sagely. "Dafydd's still pushing for you to move in with him?"

My stomach does a little flip at the mention of his name. It's ridiculous how just thinking about him makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. "Yeah."

"And?"

"And..." I bite my lip. "And I want to. God help me, I really want to."

"So what's stopping you?" She starts arranging muffins in the display case. "Because from where I'm standing, you've got a smoking hot Sasquatch who worships the ground you walk on."

"He is pretty smoking hot, isn't he?" I sigh dreamily, then catch myself. "For a giant furry beast, I mean."

"Uh-huh." Steph's knowing smirk makes me want to throw a muffin at her head.

The cave entrance chimes (yes, we installed a chime—very professional), and in walks Bambi and Kiki.

My heart gives a little twinge as I watch Bambi pat her still-flat belly. Both she and Kiki are pregnant and both are practically glowing with that special kind of happiness that seems reserved for expectant mothers.

According to Dafydd, Sasquatch gestation is only four or five months, compared to the normal nine or ten months for humans, so no one’s sure how long full term will be for them. But, as the first human women in modern times to carry mixed species babies, the entire Sasquatch population treats them like royalty, hovering and fussing over their every need.

"How are my favorite preggos this morning?" Steph bounces over to take their orders.

Kiki groans. “Everything makes me wanna puke.”

"Try the ginger tea," Bambi suggests. "It helps with morning sickness. Though I have to say, I'm a little worried about not having proper prenatal care.”

"I know, right? I still can't believe there's no doctor in Grotto," Kiki muses. "They never get sick? Never any injuries?"

"Must be nice," I mutter under my breath, then immediately chastise myself. Here I am feeling sorry for myself when I should be grateful. I mean, physically, I feel better than I have in months. Maybe years. Whatever remission this is—whether it's some underground cave magic or just a trick of fate—I should be enjoying it while it lasts.

But that's the problem, isn't it? It won't last. Not for me. For me, remission has been a godsend, but before I arrived in Grotto, I was tested out the yin-yang. I already know my internal organs are damaged beyond repair. It’s truly only a matter of time before this respite ends and my body gives out. The thought of Dafydd having to watch me waste away...

"Order up.” Steph's voice snaps me out of my spiral. Right. Focus on work. Don't think about how you're totally in love with a Sasquatch but can never share a future with him. Can't ever be the mate he deserves.

“You’ll have to fill the order,” I tell Steph. “I need to take inventory.”

Grabbing my clipboard, I head to the back room, determined to get through this inventory count without having an emotional breakdown. The storage area is cool and quiet, perfect for...

Whoa. The room suddenly tilts sideways like I'm on a carnival ride. I grab the nearest shelf, white-knuckling it as I lower myself to the floor.

“Shit, shit, shit,” I whisper to whatever god of betrayal my body is worshipping. "Please, no.”

The dizziness intensifies, and black spots dance at the edges of my vision. Well, this is just perfect. After weeks of feeling fantastic, it looks like my reprieve is over. At least I never agreed to move in with Dafydd. At least I didn't get Dafydd's hopes up too high. At least I didn't...

"Deborah?" Steph's voice seems to come from very far away. "Oh shit!"

As consciousness starts to slip out from under me, I have one last coherent thought: the fairytale is over.

The last thing I hear is the sound of Steph's voice yelling, "Somebody, help!”

Then everything goes dark.