Page 88 of Wisteria and Cloves

“No rush to come back,” she told me, squeezing my hand. “But if you ever feel lost again, remember: you know the way to yourself now.”

I swallowed hard, too thick with emotion to speak. I nodded. Julian appeared at my side again, always there when I needed him but never pushing. His arm slipped around my lower back as we turned toward the exit.

Miles held the door open for us, smiling with quiet approval, “How about we go to the bookstore next? You can pick some new reading material…and maybe some violin music so we can see about getting you started on lessons if you want.”

I felt a flutter of excitement at Miles's suggestion. "Really? The violin?" I couldn't hide my eagerness, thinking back to our conversation about what music felt like ages ago.

"Of course," Miles replied with a warm smile. "You mentioned wanting to learn, and I think it would be wonderful for you."

“I’d like that.” I told them as we went to the car and put the purchases away. Things were looking up and I couldn't wait to see where things went.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Lilianna

We had spent an hour in the bookstore before we were done shopping, and now my arms were full of treasures—three novels that had caught my eye, a volume of poetry with illustrations that reminded me of Miles's garden, and a beginner's guide to violin that Julian had selected. Christopher had insisted on adding a cookbook filled with comfort food recipes we could try together, and even Nicolaus had contributed a beautiful leather-bound journal to replace the one that was rapidly filling with my daily observations.

"Are you hungry?" Julian asked as we left the bookstore, his hand warm against the small of my back.

I nodded, realizing I was famished after the morning's activities. "Starving, actually."

"I know just the place," Christopher said, his gray eyes lighting up with enthusiasm. "There's a little café around the cornerthat makes the most incredible brunch. Private tables, quiet atmosphere—perfect for your first real outing."

The café was exactly as Christopher had described—an intimate space with wooden tables set far enough apart for privacy, soft music playing in the background, and the tantalizing aroma of fresh bread and coffee filling the air. The hostess led us to a corner table partially screened by potted plants, creating a cozy alcove that felt secure without being isolated.

"This is perfect," I murmured as Julian pulled out my chair. The men arranged themselves around me—Julian and Miles on either side, Christopher and Nicolaus across the table. Their protective formation had become so natural I hardly noticed it anymore, though I appreciated the sense of safety it provided in this new environment.

"Their eggs Benedict is extraordinary," Christopher said, passing me a menu with obvious excitement. "And the French toast is life-changing."

I opened the menu, immediately overwhelmed by the options. My parents had always ordered for me at restaurants, wanting me to only eat light food that wouldn’t cause me to gain weight. I stared at the menu, my fingers lightly tracing the edges of the thick cardstock. Everything sounded delicious—fluffy omelets, crispy waffles dusted with powdered sugar, buttery croissants with jam—but the longer I looked, the more my throat tightened.

For most of my life, going out to eat had never really been about food. It had been about appearances. My parents never asked what I wanted. They’d order the salad with grilled chicken or some other “safe” option, then smile tightly at me across the table as if I should be grateful for the opportunity to be seen dining out at all.

Now here I was, sitting between men who were watching me not with judgment, but with gentle patience.

Julian leaned in slightly, his voice quiet so it barely reached past the plants that framed our table. “There’s no wrong choice, Lilianna. We’re here to enjoy, not perform.” His words loosened something in my chest.

Across from me, Christopher pointed at the menu and stage-whispered, “You’d make my whole day if you picked the French toast. Then I’d get to steal a bite.”

“I’m not sure that’s how sharing works,” Miles said dryly, but there was amusement in his tone.

Christopher grinned and wiggled his brows. “It’s howIshare.” I laughed softly, the tension easing from my shoulders. I looked back down at the menu, this time paying attention to what actually mademecurious. The lemon ricotta pancakes caught my eye—light, sweet, something I never would’ve been allowed to order before.

“I think I’ll try these,” I said, tapping the picture of the pancakes.

Julian’s expression warmed instantly. “Excellent choice.”

“And a side of bacon,” I added, then glanced at Christopher. “But I’m not sharing.” His mock gasp of betrayal earned a chuckle from all of them.

“That’s my girl,” Nicolaus murmured, and though his tone was quiet, there was something about the pride in his gaze that made my heart stutter. When the waiter came, I ordered for myself for the first time in years. My voice didn’t even shake. The guys each placed their own orders. As the waiter walked away, Miles passed me a small dish of sugar cubes for my tea.

“You did well,” he said under his breath, like it was a secret just for us.

“Thanks,” I replied, stirring slowly. “It’s strange. I didn’t realize how... scared I was to choose something as simple as food.”

Christopher reached across the table, snagging one of the sugar cubes and popping it in his mouth like candy. “You’re unlearning years of being told who to be. That’s not small, Lilianna. That’s brave.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, but the words settled in my chest like something warm and solid.

---