Page 59 of Knotting else Matters

My legs suddenly felt weak, the sharp, twisting ache in my chest crashing into something heavier, something desperate and wild. I didn’t even have the energy to press the elevator button. I just sank onto the plush, leather bench in front of the elevator, the card turning between my fingers, over and over.

What the hell was I supposed to do? Go up there? Act like nothing was wrong? Pretend I didn’t feel this wild, twisted mess of fear and longing? Pretend I didn’t see the yellow roses blooming across the lobby, a quiet, perfect echo of the words I’d carelessly thrown at him days ago?

“Olivia?”

I blinked, looking up, the warm, soft light of the lobby catching on a figure standing in front of me. Tall, elegant, a stunning vision of rich, dark chocolate skin and long, wavy hair cascading down her back. She wore a sleek, deep emerald dress that hugged her perfect curves, her full lips painted a soft, shimmery gold, her bright, warm eyes shining with surprise.

Ada.

“Sophie’s friend,” I murmured, the sharp, aching knot in my chest easing just slightly, a faint, weak smile tugging at my lips.

“Yes.” Her smile widened, a soft, gentle warmth spreading across her face, and before I could even stand, she leaned down, wrapping me in a warm, comforting hug. The soft, floral scent of her perfume wrapped around me, sweet and calming.

“Wow, you’re tense.” She leaned back, holding me at arm’s length, her sharp, dark eyes scanning my face. “Bad night?”

“Something like that.” I forced a laugh, slipping the card into my pocket, trying to ignore the wild, desperate flutter in my chest. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, I’m staying here for a few nights.” She shrugged, her elegant, delicate fingers brushing a loose wave of hair behind her ear. “My apartment is being renovated, and I absolutely refuse to live in a dust storm.”

“That’s fair.”

“Come on.” She grabbed my hand, pulling me to my feet. “Let me buy you a drink. You look like you could use one.”

I didn’t argue. I didn’t even try. I just let her lead me to the bar, the soft, warm light spilling across the polished marble countertop, the quiet hum of conversation wrapping around us like a gentle, soothing balm.

“Two margaritas, please.” Ada smiled at the bartender, who nodded, already reaching for the fresh lime and salt.

“So…” I leaned against the bar, trying to ignore the sharp, desperate flutter in my chest. “Besides dodging dust, what’s going on with you?”

“Oh, you know.” She laughed, a soft, musical sound that seemed to light up the room. “Work, flowers, panicked brides, the usual. Sophie’s been a dream, though. A little anxious, but that’s expected. Honestly, I think Karl is more nervous than she is.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me.” I smiled, taking the drink the bartender slid in front of me, the cold, salted rim pressing against my lips, the sharp, sweet-sour taste of lime and tequila a perfect, soothing burn.

We talked, the conversation slipping easily between us—stories of Sophie’s frantic flower arrangements, the last-minute menu changes, the endless parade of family members offering their “helpful” advice. Ada was warm, easy, her laughter a soft, soothing melody that wrapped around me, and for a moment, the sharp, aching tension in my chest seemed to ease.

But when the second round of drinks arrived, I leaned back, staring down at the faint, melted ring of salt on the rim of my glass, the question slipping out before I could stop it.

“Ada… what’s it like? Finding a mate?”

Her smile softened, her bright, warm eyes clouding just slightly. “It’s… it’s everything and nothing like they tell you.”

“That’s not exactly helpful.” I tried to laugh, but it came out shaky, and she seemed to notice.

“Sorry.” She leaned forward, her fingers tracing the stem of her glass, her gaze dropping to the soft, golden glow of the bar. “It’s like… it’s like the world suddenly makes sense. Like everything you were missing, everything you didn’t even know you needed, just… falls into place. But it’s not perfect. It’s not always easy. It’s a choice. Every day, it’s a choice to fight for them, to stand by them.”

I swallowed, the sharp, bitter ache twisting in my chest, the quiet, desperate fear clawing at me. “I'm sorry if talking about it hurts you. I know you lost him but... But you… you seem so strong. So… put together.”

“Looks are deceiving, darling.” She took a slow sip of her drink, her gaze flicking to the soft, warm glow of the yellow roses scattered across the lobby. “Adam was my mate. We were young, reckless, so sure we had forever. And then… he was gone.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Her smile returned, soft and sad. “I survived. I built a life. I found joy again. But it never stops hurting. Not really.”

Ada’s warm, gentle hand rested on mine, her fingers curling around my cold, trembling fingers, her touch a quiet, steady anchor in the storm of my thoughts. Her dark, warm eyes softened, a quiet, bittersweet smile tugging at her lips.

“Getting over the loss I suffered… it wasn’t easy, Olivia,” she whispered, her voice a soft, raw murmur that seemed to wrap around me like a quiet, painful embrace. “It nearly killed me. There were days when I thought I couldn’t breathe, when the world felt empty, hollow, like everything had lost its color. Waking up hurt. Breathing hurt. I hated the moon, hated the night because it reminded me of him… of everything we lost.”

Her voice caught, the faintest shimmer of tears glistening in her warm, dark eyes, but she didn’t look away. Didn’t hide.

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