Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Daphne
Wednesday morning arrived with the kind of crisp, clear sky that promised a perfect day—which only made my stomach twist harder with nerves.
I'd barely slept, my mind spinning through every possible scenario for tonight.
What if I said the wrong thing? What if Trinity's threat was just the beginning of something worse?
I forced myself through my morning routine—coffee, breakfast I could barely taste, a quick check of the garden that did nothing to settle my racing thoughts.
By the time my phone buzzed with a text from Viola, I was already considering canceling everything and hiding in my greenhouse for the rest of the week.
Viola: Morning! Meet me at The Willow Tree Café in an hour? We need to talk. And by talk, I mean I'm buying you coffee and possibly saving you from a fashion disaster tonight.
Despite my anxiety, I felt a small smile tug at my lips. Viola had texted me last night to confirm plans, though I'd been too nervous to fully process what she'd suggested. Something about making sure I had the right outfit for dinner, though I'd protested that my usual clothes were fine.
Me: You don't have to do this.
Viola: I know I don't HAVE to. I WANT to. That's what friends do, remember? One hour. Don't make me come drag you out of your garden.
I stared at the message, at this woman who kept showing up, kept insisting on friendship, kept refusing to let me retreat into my comfortable isolation.
Part of me wanted to refuse, to insist I could handle everything myself.
But a larger part…the part that was terrified about tonight—desperately wanted the support.
Me: Okay. One hour.
Her response was immediate: YES! See you soon!
I looked down at what I was wearing—old jeans with dirt stains on the knees, a faded t-shirt that had seen better days, my work boots. Definitely not café-appropriate. With a sigh, I headed upstairs to change into something that wouldn't make me look like I'd just crawled out of a garden bed.
The drive into Haven's Rest felt surreal. Just a few days ago, trips to town had been purely functional—market days, supply runs, brief interactions before retreating to my sanctuary. Now I was meeting a friend for coffee. Actually meeting someone by choice, not necessity.
The Willow Tree Café sat on Main Street, a cozy little place with big windows and tables scattered both inside and out.
I'd passed it countless times but never stopped in—it always seemed too social, too much like the kind of place where people lingered and chatted and connected.
Exactly the kind of thing I'd been avoiding.
I parked and sat in my truck for a moment, gathering courage. Through the window, I could see Viola already inside, sitting at a corner table with two mugs in front of her. She looked up, caught sight of me, and waved with such genuine enthusiasm that I couldn't help but wave back.
One step at a time.
I climbed out and headed inside, the little bell above the door chiming to announce my arrival.
The café smelled incredible—fresh coffee, baking pastries, something cinnamon and sweet that made my stomach remind me I'd barely eaten breakfast. The space was warm and inviting, with exposed brick walls, hanging plants, and mismatched furniture that somehow worked together perfectly.
"There you are!" Viola stood as I approached, pulling me into a quick hug before I could protest. "I got you a vanilla latte—Mrs. Crane said it's what you ordered the one time you came in here three years ago. Impressive memory, right?"
I blinked, accepting the mug she pushed into my hands. "I came here three years ago?"
"Apparently. Mrs. Crane remembers everyone." Viola settled back into her seat, gesturing for me to sit across from her. "She also said you looked 'like a skittish deer' and left before finishing your coffee. Her words, not mine."
Heat crept into my cheeks. "I was having a bad day."
"You were having a bad five years, from what I understand." Viola's tone was gentle, not judgmental. "But we're not here to talk about the past. We're here to talk about tonight."
My stomach did that uncomfortable flip again. "About that—"
"No backing out," Viola interrupted firmly, though her eyes were kind. "You already said yes. They're expecting you. And more importantly, you want to go. Don't try to tell me otherwise."
I took a sip of the latte—which was, admittedly, perfect—and tried to find words for the tangle of emotions in my chest. "I'm terrified."
"I know." Viola reached across the table to squeeze my hand briefly. "But you're also brave. And tonight is just dinner, Daphne. Not a marriage proposal, not a life-altering commitment. Just four people who want to get to know you better, sharing a meal."
"Four Alphas," I corrected quietly, tightening my grip on the coffee mug. "That's not just four people. That's... a lot."
"It is a lot," Viola agreed. "But from everything I've seen and heard, they're good Alphas. The kind who respect boundaries, who understand what consent means, who aren't going to pressure you into anything you're not ready for."
I thought about Oliver on my porch yesterday, the way he'd asked permission to stay rather than assuming.
Garrett's patient presence in the orchard.
Levi backing off when I'd insisted on paying for my own groceries.
Micah's brutal honesty that had somehow felt more respectful than any careful dancing around the truth.
"They've been... surprisingly considerate," I admitted not knowing the exact words to describe the four alphas.
"That's because they actually care about you, not just about getting what they want." Viola took a sip of her own coffee. "Which brings me to why I asked you here. First, I wanted to check in about what happened Monday. You said you were going to tell them tonight—are you still planning to?"
The dead plant. The weight of it had been sitting in my chest since it arrived, a constant low-level anxiety I'd been trying to ignore.
"Yes," I said, my voice steadier than I felt. "I'm going to tell them. All of them, together. They deserve to know what they're getting into by... by being interested in me."
"What they're getting into is a relationship with a strong, talented woman who's dealing with a jealous troublemaker," Viola corrected. "That's not a reflection on you, Daphne. That's a reflection on Trinity."
"But if I wasn't—if they weren't interested in me—she wouldn't be escalating." I broke in, though I knew it wasn’t my fault I could still bring trouble.
"And if the sun didn't shine, plants wouldn't grow.
We can't control other people's actions by making ourselves smaller.
" Viola leaned forward, intensity in her eyes.
"Trinity made a choice to send you that threat.
She is the only one who would have sent something to you…
That's on her, not you. Don't let her make you question whether you deserve them. "
The words settled over me, uncomfortable but necessary. I'd been doing exactly that—questioning whether I deserved their interest, whether I was worth the complications that seemed to follow me.
"Okay," I said finally. "I'll tell them tonight. And then... we'll see what happens." I muttered, though I had a feeling the guys would have gotten it out of me either way.
"Good." Viola's expression brightened. "Which brings me to the second reason I asked you here. We need to talk about what you're wearing tonight."
I looked down at my current outfit—clean jeans, a simple blue sweater, nothing fancy but presentable. "What's wrong with my usual clothes?"
"Nothing is wrong with them for everyday wear," Viola told me carefully, a determined look on her voice as she continued to speak.
"But tonight isn't everyday wear. Tonight is your first dinner with four Alphas who are looking forward to courting you.
You want to look nice. Not fancy, not uncomfortable, but.
.. nice. Like you put in effort because this matters to you. "
"I don't have anything like that," I admitted, feeling suddenly self-conscious. "I have work clothes and market clothes. That's it."
"I figured." Viola stood, grabbing her purse as a smirk came to her lips as she looked down at my seated form. "Which is why we're going shopping. Come on. There's a boutique down the street that has exactly what you need."
I stayed seated, panic fluttering in my chest. "Viola, I can't—I don't do shopping. I don't know how to pick out clothes for... for dates. I don't even know if this is a date."
"It's definitely a date." She came around the table and gently tugged me to my feet.
"And you don't have to know how to pick out clothes.
That's what I'm here for. I'm not going to make you uncomfortable or push you into anything you hate.
I just want to help you find something that makes you feel confident tonight. "
"What if I can't afford—" I started but she cut me off.
"Then I'm buying it for you as an early friendship gift," Viola firmly told me and I could tell that I wouldn’t be able to argue as she continued to talk.
"Before you protest, let me remind you that I've been trying to be your friend for three years.
You can let me do this one nice thing without it being weird. "
I looked at her—at this woman who kept showing up, kept offering support, kept refusing to let me face things alone. And I realized that maybe, just maybe, accepting help wasn't the weakness I'd always thought it was.
"Okay," I whispered, letting my guard down. I was already this far in trusting her…what could letting her take me shopping do? "But nothing too fancy. I need to still feel like myself."
"Deal." Viola grinned, linking her arm through mine before I could change my mind. "This is going to be fun. Trust me."