Chapter 34 #2
I took a sip of the coffee—rich and smooth, with just a hint of sweetness—and considered how to answer.
"It was... magical. I know that sounds cliché, but I don't have a better word for it.
The stars, the meteors, the way he explained everything without making me feel stupid for not knowing.
It was like seeing the sky for the first time. "
Levi's expression softened, something warm and genuine replacing the playful grin. "Good. That's what we wanted. What he wanted."
"He was nervous," I admitted. "He told me. Said he was worried his analytical approach wouldn't be romantic enough."
"That idiot." But there was affection in the word, a deep fondness that spoke to years of friendship.
"He doesn't realize that's exactly what makes him special.
The way he cares so much that he researches optimal viewing conditions and makes constellation guides.
That's more romantic than a hundred grand gestures. "
I thought about Micah's hand in mine, his voice low and close in the darkness. The way he'd shared stories about his father, trusted me with something tender. "I told him it was more than enough. Being himself."
"And you meant it?" He asked, lips quirking.
"Every word." I told him honestly. Levi studied me for a moment, those bright blue eyes seeing more than I was entirely comfortable with.
Then he nodded, satisfied. "Good. You're good for him, Daphne.
Good for all of us. But especially Micah, he needs someone who appreciates him exactly as he is.
Too many people have tried to change him over the years. "
Before I could respond, a customer approached, and I had to turn my attention to selling. But Levi didn't leave. He just stepped back slightly, sipping his own coffee, watching me work with an easy patience that reminded me of Garrett.
When the customer left with a basket full of herbs, Levi spoke again. "So I'm supposed to be subtle about this, but subtlety isn't really my strong suit, so I'm just going to ask. I did ask about you being free on Monday…Does the evening work for you?"
My heart did a little skip.
"I finally have something planned. Something I think you'll like.
Casual, low-pressure, but hopefully fun.
" He paused, a hint of vulnerability creeping into his usually confident demeanor.
"If you're interested. No pressure if you need more time to recover from the stargazing. .or I can think up another date idea.."
I thought about what Viola had said—you just have to show up—and what Micah had told me about the pack wanting to court me properly, each of them in their own way.
"I'm interested," I said. "I can’t wait to see what you have in mind then. ."
Levi's grin returned, bright as sunshine. "Perfect. I'll pick you up around five.” His excitement was contagious. "I should let you get back to work. But Daphne?" He gave me a big smile, warm and it made my heart flutter and my cheeks heat up.
"Yeah?" I asked, bitting my lip as I gave a small smile.
"Last night, what you told Micah about wanting to figure things out with all of us?
That meant a lot. To him, and to the rest of us when he shared it.
" His voice was serious now, the playfulness stripped away.
"We're not taking this lightly. You're not just some checkbox on a courting list. You're... you matter. I wanted you to know that."
The words hit somewhere deep, somewhere that was still learning to believe it might deserve good things. I know they keep telling me this for my sake…and I know it is because the more I hear it the more I might believe it. "Thank you, Levi. For saying that. And for the coffee."
"Anytime." He sketched a little salute and disappeared into the crowd, leaving me with a warm cup and a warmer heart.
The rest of the morning passed in a blur of sales and conversations.
I ran out of tomatoes, then herbs, then most of my preserves.
By noon, I was down to a handful of flower bundles and some late-season squash, a better day than I'd had in months.
More than the sales, I noticed the connections.
The regulars who asked about my week and actually listened to the answers.
I was packing up my empty crates when I spotted a familiar figure across the square—Viola, her dark curls bouncing as she wove through the thinning crowd.
She was carrying a bag from Mrs. Chen's stall and wearing a smile that widened when she saw me looking.
"There she is!" Viola crossed the remaining distance and pulled me into a quick hug, smelling of coffee and some kind of floral perfume. "Survivor of the Great Meteor Shower Date. Tell me everything immediately."
I laughed, surprising myself with how natural it felt. "It was good. Really good."
"Details, woman. I need details." She hopped up onto my now-empty display table, swinging her legs like a kid. "Did he bring the hot chocolate? Did you see actual meteors? Did he finally loosen up that buttoned-down exterior?"
"Yes, yes, and... yes, actually." I smiled at the memory. "He told me about learning astronomy from his father. About being nervous. He was... surprisingly vulnerable."
"Micah? Vulnerable?" Viola's eyebrows shot up. "That's huge. He looks so locked down.”
"I think we're getting through to each other." I leaned against the truck, suddenly aware of how tired I was. The late night was catching up, the adrenaline of the market fading into bone-deep exhaustion. "He said I'm worth waiting for. Worth being patient for."
"Because you are." Viola's voice was firm. "I hope you're starting to believe that."
"I'm trying." The words came out thick, emotion clogging my throat. "It's hard, after so long of believing the opposite. But I'm trying."
"That's all anyone can ask." She hopped down from the table and helped me load the last of my crates into the truck. "So what's next? Any more dates on the horizon?"
"Levi asked me to do something Monday. He hasn’t given me an idea what we are doing yet though. He had mentioned in the text before to wear clothes that I don’t mind getting dirty.” I was very curious about what he had in mind for the date.
Viola's eyes lit up. "Oh, I bet I know what that's about. His friend has that pottery studio—" She caught herself, grinning. "Actually, no. I'm not going to spoil it. Just trust me, you're going to love it."
"You know what he's planning?" I asked, trying to figure out how that happened…but in this town I really shouldn’t be suppose.
"Small town, honey. Word gets around." She bumped her shoulder against mine. "But in a good way. Everyone's excited for you. The whole town's been watching you these past few weeks, seeing you come out of your shell. It's been beautiful."
The idea of everyone watching should have made me anxious, but somehow, today, it just felt like warmth. Like being held by something larger than myself.
"Viola?" I asked, catching her attention as she gave me a curious look with her eyebrow raised. "Thank you. For being my friend. For pushing when I needed pushing and backing off when I needed space. I know I wasn't easy to get close to."
Her smile went soft. "Nobody worth knowing is easy, Daphne. The best people are the ones you have to work for." We stood there for a moment in the afternoon sun, the market winding down around us, and I felt something settle into place. A piece of a puzzle I hadn't known was incomplete.
"Coffee next week?" Viola asked. "I want to hear all about Monday's date. And anything else that happens between now and then."
"It's a date." I laughed, feeling more free than I had in a long time.
"Look at you, making plans with friends like a normal person." She grinned and pulled me into one more hug. "I'm proud of you. Now go home and sleep. You look like you're about to fall over."
She wasn't wrong. The exhaustion hit fully as I drove home, the country roads blurring slightly in my peripheral vision. I kept the windows down, the cool air helping me stay alert, and by the time I pulled up to my cabin, I was running on pure determination.
The cabin was quiet when I entered, familiar and welcoming. Late afternoon light slanted through the windows, painting golden rectangles on the worn wooden floors. I dropped my keys on the hook, kicked off my shoes, and made it as far as the couch before my body gave out.
Just a short nap, I told myself. Just close my eyes for a minute. I woke to the sound of my phone buzzing, the light in the room shifted to the deeper gold of early evening. Disoriented, I fumbled for the phone and found a message from Micah.
I hope today went well. I've been thinking about last night, about the stars, and the conversation, and you. Thank you again for coming. For being willing to try.
Below it, a photo: the star chart Margaret had made, laid out on what looked like his desk, with a book about historical astronomical documents open beside it.
I did some research, his message continued. The chart appears to be from the early 1960s, based on the positioning of certain stars. The detail is remarkable, whoever made it must have spent hours on it. I thought you might like to know.
Tears pricked my eyes. He'd researched it. He'd taken something I'd shared with him and treated it like it mattered, like it was worth his time and attention. Such a small thing, but it cracked something open in me.
I typed back: That means more than you know. Margaret—my foster mother—she would have liked you, I think. She appreciated people who took the time to understand things properly.
Three dots appeared, then: I would have liked to meet her. Anyone who taught you to love growing things must have been remarkable.
I sent a text back: She was. I miss her.
He responded quickly: Grief is just love with nowhere to go. It never really fades, it just becomes part of you.
I stared at the words, at the unexpected poetry of them from someone so analytical. Then I typed: Did you just make that up?
A second later my phone buzzed with a response: No. I read it somewhere once. But it felt true when I lost my father. It feels true now, talking to you about Margaret.
It does feel true, I admitted. Thank you for that.
He texted one last time: Always. Rest well, Daphne. I'll see you soon.
I set down the phone and looked around my cabin, at the herbs drying in the window, the worn quilt on the back of the couch, the photo of Margaret and Tom that sat on the mantle. The couple who'd taken in a broken, angry teenager and shaped me into who I was today.
My phone buzzed again, and I smiled before I even looked at it. This time it was Garrett:
Heard the market was good today. Levi said you looked happy. That makes us happy.
Then Oliver: We're grilling tomorrow if you want to come by. No pressure, just an open invitation.
And finally Levi: Monday can't come fast enough. Prepare for disasters and questionable artistic choices. It's going to be great.
Then I curled up on the couch with Margaret's old quilt wrapped around me, the one she'd made from scraps of fabric, each piece holding a memory, watching the evening light fade through the windows, and let myself feel something I hadn't felt in a very long time.
Hope. Real, terrifying, wonderful hope. Underneath the fear, underneath the doubt, underneath all the years of teaching myself not to want things—excitement. For tomorrow. For Monday. For whatever came next.
Margaret's voice echoed in my memory, soft and certain: You plant seeds of kindness and patience, and sometimes it takes years before you see the bloom.
Maybe, finally, something was starting to bloom.