“So… you and Justin, huh?”
Lily’s voice is gentle when she asks it. Bethany has just stepped out to take a call, leaving the room quieter, smaller somehow. Lily leans back against the table, arms folded loosely, a faint, uncertain smile touching her mouth.
I turn toward her too quickly, heat rushing to my face. Embarrassment hits first, sharp and immediate. I didn’t think it was obvious. I didn’t thinkanyoneknew.
I open my mouth, unsure whether to deny it, confirm it, or ask how she could possibly tell. She answers before I can.
“It’s obvious,” she says simply. “From the way he was looking at you earlier.”
A hard knot forms deep in my gut.
“How was he looking at me?” I ask, and before I can stop myself, my gaze drops to my own body, as if the answer might be written there. As if I could see myself the way he does.
Lily lets out a soft laugh—not mocking or amused, but warm, knowing.
“Like you matter.”
That stills me.
“I’m glad,” she continues, her voice steady now. “I’m glad to see him happy. He deserves that.” Her eyes meet mine, open and sincere. “And I think you’ll be good for each other.”
The breath leaves my lungs in one long exhale. Only then do I realize I’d been holding it—waiting, without admitting it to myself, for approval I didn’t know I wanted.
These are his people. His family. The ones who know the worst of him and love him anyway. Of course they’d be watching me. Measuring me. Making sure he’s safe too.
And in that moment, standing across from Lily Snow, I understand something I didn’t expect to.
This isn’t just about Justin and me.
It’s about being welcomed into something that survived fire and loss and still chose to stand together. About being seen not as a risk, but as a possibility.
For the first time since everything began to unravel, I don’t feel like I’m standing on the outside of his world, trying to prove I belong. I feel like I’ve been quietly let in.
“He’s a special man,” I say softly.
I don’t mean to whisper it. I don’t mean for the words totremble the way they do. But they slip out of me anyway, unguarded, like a truth I haven’t practiced saying aloud.
Lily doesn’t look surprised. She studies me for a moment, the way people do when they’re weighing sincerity rather than flattery.
“He is,” she agrees. “And men like Justin don’t gravitate toward just anyone.” Her gaze sharpens, warm but perceptive. “Someone has to meet him where he stands.”
The compliment lands heavier than I expect.
It’s not pride that wells up in my chest. It’s humility. The uncomfortable awareness of being seen—by someone who knows him deeply, who has watched him fracture and rebuild himself. I swallow, my throat tightening, and for a moment I think I might cry.
So I pivot.
“How long are you staying?” I ask, steering the conversation toward safer ground. Toward her.
Lily glances away, her attention drifting toward the tall windows and the soft spill of light across the church floor. There’s something distant in her expression, like she’s listening to echoes only she can hear.
“We’re not sure yet. A few weeks, at least.” She pauses. “I needed somewhere familiar.”
I nod. I understand that need more than I want to admit.
The door swings open then, and Bethany bursts back into the room with the kind of energy only she can summon.
“No more wandering the earth with the pixie fairies?” she asks brightly.
