The conversation flowed easily after that—work stories, neighborhood gossip, and Willow's latest crimes against property (she'd destroyed one of Miller's work heels, which Harper found unreasonably funny). Astoria found herself laughing more than talking, watching the way Miller's face lit up when she told stories and the way Nadia and Harper traded looks that spoke entire silent conversations.
This was what she'd been missing her whole life.
“How’s the case going?” Nadia asked Miller. “The woman from last month?”
“Theresa?” Miller’s expression turned serious. “She got full custody. Her ex has supervised visitation only, and she’s filing for permanent orders next month.”
“That’s wonderful.”
“It is.” Miller’s voice was quiet but fierce. “She was so scared when she came to me. Now she and her kids are safe. That’s what matters.”
Astoria reached under the table and found Miller's hand, then squeezed it once. Miller had left Hartwell & Associates three years ago to start her own family law practice, focusing on survivors of domestic abuse. It had been terrifying and exhilarating, and Astoria had watched her become more herself with every case she took.
“You’re doing important work,” Astoria said.
Miller turned to look at her. “So are you.”
“I’m building hotels.”
“You’re building sustainable communities and funding programs that support people.” Miller’s voice was firm. “Don’t diminish that.”
Harper made a sound that might have been agreement or indigestion. “You’re both doing fine. Can we eat dessert now?”
“We haven’t even finished dinner,” Nadia pointed out.
“I’m proposing we skip to the good part.”
“You made the dinner. You can’t skip your own dinner.”
“Watch me.”
They ate dessert on the back porch—apple pie, because some traditions were sacred—while the evening settled around them in shades of gold and purple. Willow chased something invisible through the yard, and fireflies began their slow drift through the growing dusk.
Astoria sat on the porch swing next to Miller, and Nadia and Harper occupied the wicker chairs, both of them watching the yard with contentment.
“So,” Nadia said, her voice casual but her eyes knowing. “Any news you want to share?”
Astoria and Miller exchanged a glance. They'd been talking about it for months—the possibility, the logistics, the terrifying leap into something bigger than just the two of them.
“Not yet,” Miller said delicately. “But maybe soon.”
Nadia’s face lit up. “Really?”
“Don’t pressure them,” Harper said immediately.
“I’m not pressuring! I’m enthusiastically inquiring.”
“That’s the same thing.”
“It’s completely different.”
Astoria watched them bicker, affection clear in every word, and felt the last piece of her armor finally fall away. She’d spent so many years believing she had to be perfect to be wanted. These women taught her otherwise. They’d seen her at her worst—anxious, guarded, uncertain—and loved her anyway. They'dmade room for her at their table and in their hearts, and they'd never asked her to be anything other than exactly who she was.
The evening wound down slowly. They helped clean up, Nadia insisting it was no trouble while Harper grumbled about how many dishes three people could possibly dirty. Willow passed out on the living room rug, exhausted from her important work of existing vigorously.
When it was time to leave, Astoria found herself wrapped in Nadia’s arms again, held tight and secure.
“I’m proud of you,” Nadia said quietly. “I hope you know that.”
