Isaac gestured to a sketch on the table. “Silver moon lanterns like the ones used in your mother’s pack. And the cake will have moonstone decorations, which I’m told is a Werewolf tradition for celebrating births, isn’t it?”
I stared at him, speechless for a moment. He’d clearly done his research. “Yes,” I admitted. “It… It is. But Isaac—”
“Let me handle this, Bianca.” Isaac’s voice lowered in that way it always did when he was being serious, and his blue eyes glinted in the sunlight streaming in through the large stained-glass windows. “I can’t have you harming the baby because you don’t know how to sit down and relax.”
Right. The baby. For a moment, I’d almost wondered if he genuinely wanted to take care of me—something that no one had done before, at least not since my mothe
