Page 47 of All's Well that Friends Well

Secretly I agree. Granted, I haven’t tried her breakfast bars, but if it’s anything like her peach crumble, they’re delicious?—

But my thoughts halt in place as I reread her text.

She’s going to eat the food before it gets wet? Why would it get wet? Surely…

My eyes dart to the little window on the bathroom wall, frosted window pane being pelted by rain.

Surely she hasn’t beenoutside. Right? She wouldn’t do that. She’s not dumb.

I swallow as something strange rises in me, something tangled and complex. It’s irritation, but also concern, and exasperation, and even amusement. I tamp those feelings down, swallow them whole, and scroll more quickly now to keep reading her last two texts.

Juliet Marigold

I’m actually just going to wait on your porch for a minute, if that’s all right.

If it’s not all right, I will wait here anyway, because you’re not home, and it’s raining really hard

This last text doesn’t even have a period at the end, much less her usual string of three exclamation points or question marks. A strange twinge of anxiousness tugs at my chest, and I add it to the growing list of feelings I don’t understand; then, before I can think things through, I open the bathroom door and stride back down the hall.

“I’m so sorry,” I say to Mr. and Mrs. Delaney, who look surprised. “Something has come up that I need to go take care of.”

Mrs. Delaney blinks, her eyes wide, but she nods quickly. “Of course,” she says, shooing me toward the front door. “Of course, sweetie. Thank you so much for coming by to see us.”

“Any time,” I say, and I give her the usual one-armed hug. I clasp hands with Mr. Delaney and then head to the front door, doing my best to keep my stride normal, unhurried.

I keep my speed normal and unhurried all the way from Boulder back to Lucky, too, but my hands could probably put a dent in the steering wheel with how tightly I’m holding on. All I can see in my mind’s eye is an image of Juliet, huddled up on my front porch, looking like a drowned rat.

It’s a ridiculous worry. She’s not waiting on my front porch in the rain. She wouldn’t do that.

Still, I find myself picking up speed when I’m back in citylimits—just a little bit, enough to get me home faster but not enough to be dangerous on the back roads so prevalent in Lucky. By the time I turn into my neighborhood—Juliet’s old neighborhood—I’m actively working to take slow, even breaths.

My eyes scan the front porch through the rain as I pull into the driveway, but no one is there; then I look at the rest of the front of the house. She’s not there either, and no car is parked here. My shoulders slump as relief floods through me.

Good. I knew she wouldn’t just sit in the rain. So I get out of the car and hurry inside, loosening my tie the second I step through the garage entrance. I unbutton my shirt with rapid fingers, tugging the wet button-up off as quickly as possible, because wet shirts are the least-comfortable thing of all time.

I don’t notice anything until I’ve crossed the kitchen and emerged into the living room, shirt draped over my arm, eyes on the hallway that leads to the stairs. But then I hear a sound—a tiny little sound, like the tapping of a finger on glass.

Tap, tap, tap, tap.

I startle so violently that my shirt almost falls to the floor. Then I whirl toward the living room window?—

Where, sure enough, I see Juliet Marigold outside, huddled up and looking every bit the drowned rat I had imagined.

JULIET

This evening is not goinglike I had planned. I was going to bring Luca the platter of peach crumble bars, because he said I could. I was going to walk over here and enjoy the breeze, and then I was going to walk back home.

Instead, I am huddled against the window outside the living room—the living room that temporarily belongs to Luca—and I am freezing my butt off, shivering, trying to decide how mad Luca would be if I went inside.

It’s just—I told him I wouldn’t. And we’re friends now. A friend doesn’t break promises.

The problem is, I don’t know how long he’ll be gone, and I don’t know how long the rain is going to last. I was on the front porch, but the wind was blowing the rain sideways at me, so I came around back to get a bit of a wind break.

I’m torn out of my internal debate when my phone rings, Aurora’s name popping up on the screen. I’ve kept my phonedry by protecting it between myself and the window, so I answer it with shaking hands.

“Hi,” I say—andthat’swhen I see Luca stroll into the living room, his hand jumping to the light switch and bringing him into sharp relief.

I’m rescued.

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