Page 40 of Lavender and Honey

"Great. Now he's going to be unbearable," Soren groaned from across the table, though the twinkle in his eye betrayed the fond teasing in his words.

Elias simply shrugged, the motion fluid and untroubled. "I can't help it if I'm a culinary genius." The warm chuckle that followed was soft, self assured without a hint of arrogance. It was clear he knew his way around a kitchen, his skills honed not for accolades but for the simple joy of creation and sharing.

Finn leaned in, his breath a conspiratorial whisper against my ear. "You should have seen him pacing the kitchen. I thought he was going to have a meltdown when the sauce didn’t reduce fast enough."

I glanced towards Elias, expecting to see a flustered cook, but instead found him relaxed, an easy smile on his face. His hazel eyes met mine with a glint of humor before he rolled them at Soren's dramatization.

"I was making sure everything was perfect," Elias said, a gentle firmness in his tone that spoke of his dedication.The tension between his playful exasperation and Soren's teasing was palpable, yet it only added layers to the warm atmosphere of the evening.

"How are you feeling? About being here?" His voice was smooth and even. It carried the weight of unspoken understanding, an acknowledgment of the walls I'd built around myself over the years.

I hesitated, the words catching slightly in my throat. My gaze drifted from Lucian to the others, taking in the table before me. Soren's animated gestures as he recounted some tale, his eyes sparkling with mischief; Elias's attentive posture, his head tilted slightly as he listened, the corners of his lips curled in amusement. Finn who was watching the two, and jumping into the conversation here and there.

"Better than I expected," I admitted finally, my voice a whisper of sound that nevertheless seemed to carry in the intimate space. As if to reinforce my point, I allowed myself a small smile, one that felt unfamiliar but not unwelcome on my lips. "It's…warm."

Lucian's nod came with a softness in his eyes, a gentle recognition that seemed to echo the understanding in his voice. "Good," he said simply, yet the word felt like a balm, a subtle encouragement that seeped through the cracks of my self imposed defenses.

The moment lingered, a silent thread weaving between us, before Soren broke it with his characteristic levity. He leaned back in his chair, the wood creaking slightly under his weight,and his grin was as infectious as it was teasing. "So, Lydia, now that you’ve survived Elias’ masterpiece, what’s next? Dessert? A full interrogation? Or should we just sit back and let Elias bask in his moment of glory?"

His words, light as they were, carried an undercurrent of choice— of invitation. I realized then that they were all watching me, not with expectation, but with something akin to quiet support. The ball was in my court, and for the first time in a long while, the prospect of deciding didn't feel quite so daunting.

I reached for my glass, the cool surface grounding me as I considered Soren's playful inquiry. The wine danced lightly on my tongue, a prelude to my choice. My nerves, once like live wires, had settled into a hum of contentment.

"Dessert sounds safer," I smirked, teasing back, finding comfort in the easy banter.

Elias responded with a clap of his hands that resonated with the same meticulous care he put into everything he touched. "Excellent choice. I made something special." His eyes, alight with the pride of a craftsman, held mine for a moment longer than necessary, conveying a silent promise of delights yet to be discovered.

As he rose from the table, the fluid grace of his movements was familiar— reminiscent of the way his hands had moved with practiced ease at his market stall, arranging jars of preserves like precious gems. Elias disappeared into the kitchen, leaving a trail of infectious enthusiasm in his wake

Soren stretched out his legs beneath the table, a playful grin tugging at his lips. "Oh no. We're never getting out of here." His voice carried a mock tremor of despair, and he threw his hands up theatrically. It was a performance that would have felt over the top if not for the glint of mischief in his eyes.

From across the table, Lucian watched the exchange, a serene contrast to Soren's exaggerated display. He shook hishead, amusement dancing across his features like the flickering candlelight between us.

"Promise, Lydia, the drama is mostly contained to the kitchen," Finn said, his tone laced with humor. "And only when Elias is involved."

"Hey, I heard that!" Elias's voice called out, muffled by distance but still warm with laughter.

“It's like living with a reality cooking show. Never a dull moment." I found myself teasing, surprising even myself with the ease of my banter.

"Exactly." Soren chimed in, winked at me, then adopted a mock serious tone. "But if you're going to stick around, you'll need to learn our ways— the good, the bad, and the culinary disasters."

"Disasters?" Elias reentered the room then, carrying a tray laden with what looked like miniature tarts, the golden crusts glistening under the soft lighting. "I'll have you know these are perfection on a plate."

"Of course they are," Lucian agreed with a fond roll of his eyes. "Elias doesn't do disasters." The dessert was placed before us, and the sweet aroma of baked fruit and buttery pastry filled the air. Elias had indeed outdone himself; each bite was a delicate harmony of flavors that felt familiar yet entirely new. As we indulged in the treat, the conversation flowed naturally, turning from playful jabs to shared stories. They spoke of community events, market days, and the gentle rhythm of life in Haven's Rest. And I listened, truly listened, allowing their words to paint a picture of a world that thrived on connections rather than solitude.

Maybe this wasn’t as terrifying as I had thought.

Chapter Twenty-Six

As the evening wore on, I found myself relaxing more and more in the company of these four men. The initial nervousness had faded, replaced by a warm sense of comfort that surprised me. We had moved from the dining room to a cozy living area, settling into plush sofas and armchairs arranged in a loose circle.

Elias sat beside me on the sofa, close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from his body, but not so close as to make me uncomfortable. Finn and Soren occupied the armchairs across from us, while Lucian leaned against the fireplace mantel, his tall frame silhouetted by the soft glow of the flames.

"Lydia," Lucian called, drawing my attention. "I think it's time we addressed the reason we asked you here tonight." I felt my breath catch, the lighthearted atmosphere suddenly charged with anticipation. Elias fell silent, his hazel eyes watching me with a mix of hope and concern. Soren leaned forward, his usualsmirk replaced by a serious expression. Finn gave me a small smile, but I could see the same look as Elias had on his face.

"Right," I managed, my voice barely above a whisper. "The... courting.” I didn’t know how to approach the subject at all as I shifted in my seat.

Lucian nodded, his steel-grey eyes gentle but intense as he looked at me. "Yes, the courting. We wanted to have an open conversation about our intentions and hear your thoughts on the matter."

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