Page 37 of Lavender and Honey

Asoft, almost imperceptible vibration danced across the polished wood surface, stealing my attention away from the murmur of my thoughts. I glanced downward and discovered a blinking notification on my phone— a subtle beacon that had arrived during my call. With tentative fingers, I reached for the device, my pulse quickening as the luminous name ignited the screen.

Lucian.

I opened the message, my breath catching in a moment of suspended anticipation as I absorbed the carefully chosen words:

"Lydia, Elias wanted to send this message himself, but we thought it best if I reached out first. We now see that our intentions might not have been as unmistakable as we had hoped. Soren filled us in about your conversation, and we’re truly sorry if we’ve stirred any confusion or discomfort."

I exhaled slowly, a gentle release of tension that eased the tight knots in my shoulders, allowing my grip on the phone to slacken. They were extending an olive branch, a sincere effort to close the gap between us. It wasn’t merely a demand for me to catch up— it was an invitation to meet me exactly where I was, vulnerable and raw. After guarding my emotions like cherished, fragile relics, their gesture was more than I had dared to long for.

My fingers hovered uncertainty over the keyboard, caught in a delicate struggle between cautious doubt and an unfamiliar flutter of hopeful anticipation.

"Thank you for reaching out, Lucian. I appreciate the clarity."

I paused, questioning whether the words might strike too coolly, too distant. But before I could let my uncertainties spiral into overthinking, I pressed send.

Almost immediately, a response appeared:

"Of course, Lydia. Your comfort matters to us. Would you be open to coming over tomorrow evening? A group dinner might give us all a chance to talk openly about any thoughts or feelings that need addressing."

I stared at the luminous screen, reading and re-reading the message with growing intensity. A group dinner— the very thought sent a jolt through my veins, a cocktail of exhilaration and terror, like standing at the brink of a precipice, poised to take a daring leap. Before reason could intervene, I typed back:

"Sounds like a good idea. What time?"

Lucian’s typing bubble emerged, then faded away into silence, only to reappear again before his next message sprung to life:

"Let’s say Seven after you close your store? We’ll prepare something special. Elias has been eager to share some of his culinary creations with you."

A gentle smile tugged at my lips as I pictured Elias in the kitchen: an apron draped casually over his broad shoulders, brows deeply furrowed in concentration as he worked his magic with ingredients and spices. The image was oddly endearing, imbued with a warmth that filled even the coldest corners of my guarded heart.

"Seven works for me. Looking forward to it."

A longer pause ensued before Lucian’s final message appeared:

"We’re looking forward to it too, Lydia. Truly."

I bit my lip, a subtle tremor of indecision threading through my sense of hope. A simple "Me too" seemed woefully insufficient. My fingers lingered above the keys, unsure, before finally beginning to craft something more heartfelt.

My heart raced with nervous anticipation, yet I felt an undeniable pull toward what lay ahead.“I’m nervous, but I think this is something I want to do. Thank you… for making this easier,”I admitted.

Before long, his reply arrived with remarkable speed.“You don’t have to be nervous. We’ll take everything at your pace. Just be yourself.”

Almost instantly, another message bubbled onto the screen:“Soren’s already placing bets on how many times Elias will fuss over the food. Care to wager a guess?”

A soft chuckle escaped me as I typed back,“I’d say at least five times.”

Lucian’s response came swiftly:“Bold choice. I might go with six. We’ll see who wins.”

Curious and amused, I asked,“What’s the prize for the winner?”

“A favor,”came his prompt reply.“The loser owes the winner a favor of their choosing.”

Raising the stakes, I queried,“Dangerous terms. What kind of favor did you have in mind?”

“Nothing too terrible. Perhaps you could cook for us next time?”I could almost hear the teasing tone through the text.

I smirked and shook my head, replying,“I warn you, you might regret that— I’m far from a five-star chef.”

“Then we’ll suffer through it together,”Lucian answered with a playful grin emoji.

---