Chapter Thirteen #2
They weren’t waiting for her to solve something. They weren’t politely looping her in because she was useful. They were including her because they wanted her here. Because they liked her. Because—somehow—she’d already been woven into their circle.
The thought hit so hard her breath stopped.
“Oh,” she whispered, more to herself than anyone.
Her eyes burned. She looked down quickly, hoping no one noticed the tears pooling there.
Willow did.
She slid her chair closer, hip bumping Fern’s lightly. “Hey.”
Fern tried to smile. Failed. A tear escaped anyway, tracking down her cheek.
“Oh no,” Willow said softly. She reached out without hesitation, pulling Fern into a side hug. “Hey. What’s going on?”
“I’m sorry,” Fern whispered, mortified. “I just—I thought I was only here to give advice on plants.”
Willow’s laugh was gentle, not unkind. “Oh, honey.”
“I didn’t think you actually wanted to include me, when I’m not really part of you all.”
Willow dipped her head, forcing her to meet her gaze. “We’re pretty confident you’re gonna be around.”
The words struck deep and settled like a soothing balm over a place that had been aching inside her for a long time.
Fern pressed her lips together, nodding as more tears slipped free. Willow passed her a napkin like this was the most normal thing in the world—which, apparently, it was.
On her other side, Felicity handed her a fruity beverage with an umbrella in the glass. “I cried the first time I realized everyone here accepted me too.”
Willow smiled, eyes soft. “Did I ever tell you about our evil goat Hellhorn?”
Fern laughed weakly and wiped her cheeks, shaking her head. When Willow launched into a story about how Crew squealed like a little girl when he saw the goat charging him, the whole group was in stitches.
They moved on, the conversation flowing easily again. Fern listened as each woman gave opinions about table settings, music and food, and found herself chiming in, offering thoughts without overthinking them.
Then she looked up and froze.
A famous person had just joined them.
Fern had seen pictures on TV and the internet. Everyone had.
Even if she wasn’t the most famous and talented violinist in the world, Juliette was the kind of woman people remembered thanks to her dark hair, striking features and breezy confidence.
Fern’s jaw dropped before she could stop it.
“You’re…Juliette,” she blurted. “The Juliette.”
Juliette blinked, then laughed, a bright, genuine sound.
“Guilty.” She held up a notebook. “But today I’m just the secretary taking notes on wedding plans.
Sorry I’m late, everyone.” She scanned the group and then directed her attention to Fern again.
She patted the empty chair beside her. “Come sit by me. Tell me what I missed.”
Fern moved on autopilot, cheeks burning.
Juliette glanced at her with an easy smile. “You’re with Crew, right?”
The question hit with a skipped heartbeat.
Fern opened her mouth.
Was she?
She spent time with him. She tumbled into his arms with careless abandon.
She cared about him more than she’d ever planned to care about anyone again. But nothing had been defined. Nothing labeled.
What would he say if the guys asked him the same question?
“I—” Fern swallowed. “I guess…kind of?”
Juliette nodded like that was answer enough. “Sounds like Crew is a lot like the rest of the guys around here. They know what they want but forget to tell you.”
Fern laughed softly, grateful for the lack of pressure.
Juliette flipped a page in the notebook. “Theo and I didn’t start with labels either,” she said casually. “He was my bodyguard.”
Fern’s head snapped up. “Really?”
“Really.” Juliette’s mouth curved. “I had a stalker. Theo was assigned to keep me safe. We fell madly in love in the process.”
Fern’s heart thudded.
“Theo’s helping me too,” she said quietly. “Someone’s…following me.”
Juliette didn’t hesitate. She closed the notebook and turned to Fern, wrapping her in a fierce hug.
Swallowed by the warm display of friendship and expensive perfume, Fern felt the sting of tears at the backs of her eyes again.
“You’re in the right place, Fern.”
The certainty in the woman’s voice broke something open and solidified what she’d thought back in the greenhouse when Marla made her feel she had found her rightful place in the world.
Now, she had the right people too.
Fern held on, letting herself believe it.
Later, as the women continued to talk and laugh, Fern leaned back and watched them, her chest full in a way she wasn’t used to. She’d never imagined this—new friends and something that felt shockingly close to family.
She never thought she’d trust again, let alone love.
She was still blinking away lingering tears when she felt a familiar presence behind her.
“Hey.”
She turned to find Crew standing there, brow furrowed, concern etched into his face.
He leaned close. “Why are your eyes glassy?” He scanned the group behind her, jaw tightening. “You were crying. Were they mean to you?”
She sniffed and shook her head, a laugh slipping out. “No. They were…wildly nice.”
Relief flashed across his face, followed by something softer.
“Oh.”
She reached for his hand, lacing her fingers through his. “They think I’m going to be around.”
He squeezed her hand, thumb brushing over her knuckles. “So do I.”
And for the first time, Fern believed it might actually be true.