Kelsey’s smile was more than a sunbeam; it was the entire sun. Yet Willow hunched up at her words. “Oh, I’m not brave at all. I’m like the opposite of brave.”
“No way,” Kelsey said. “You’re proving it right this minute.”
“Stop it, Kels,” Trevor said with a smirk. “You sound like she’s going to have an awful time here.”
“Oh!” Kelsey’s face flushed. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“It’s okay,” Willow said, then paused to study Trevor. Acclimation was so…strange. Just like Robert, Trevor now seemed to fill space differently, fully. It was a quality too nebulous for words.
She tugged Ezra’s hand, suddenly feeling…yes, brave. As the four of them stepped into the yard, Kelsey said, “Anything you need, just let me know. The food’s about to come out, but other than that I’m here for you while you get used to all this, okay?”
“Sounds good. Thanks.”
Kelsey flitted away, seeming to dance even in her tennis shoes.
The yard was packed. Willow stood at the very edge, her hand secure in Ezra’s, and let herself absorb the sights and sounds. So many strangers. So much chatter and laughter, outdoor games in progress, half-rings of lawn chairs set out under the copse of shade trees near the stretch of picnic tables. As the big picture sank in, as Willow took a few deep breaths, details registered. Blue tablecloths fluttered in the slight breeze. A toddler with pink ribbons in her pigtails ran past Willow and Ezra into the arms of a tall burgundy-haired woman wearing glasses. Half a dozen men were tossing big metal darts into a hoop target laid in the grass. Farther out in the yard, a few guys played volleyball.
Willow allowed herself to study the men in the dart game. Cassius was easy to spot among a bunch of white guys, and Aaron was there too. The others were just as tall, just as muscular, but one of them edged out the rest of the pack—even Ezra—in height and brawn. He stood with his back to her, his hair blond with red glints, barely longer than Ezra’s. Beyond him stood an unmistakable carrot-top.
“Cool, Nathan’s here too,” Willow said.
Ezra squeezed her hand. “Want to meet him?”
“I already did.” Then she got it. “Oh, you mean acclimate.”
“Yep.”
“Okay, I’m ready.”
He leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Youarebrave, Wil.”
A shiver ran down her spine even as warmth pooled in her middle. “I’m trying.”
“You’re killing it.” Then without raising his voice he said, “Nathan, come on over.”
The orange-haired glassblower disengaged from the game of darts and loped up to them, his gait the same mesmerizing motion Ezra had let her see after their park picnic. About ten feet from them, he slowed and halted. When Willow looked up at him, he held her gaze.
His eyes were the same light green; he was the same height, the same breadth, the same twenty-two-year-old artist she had talked to at the fair. Yet he was more than that now, and as Willow forced herself not to break eye contact, her lungs began to tighten, her heart to pound.
“Hi, Nathan,” she said.
“Willow. Nice to see you here.”
“Thanks.” The word was a squeak.
Nathan smiled. “I’ve got some pics on my phone of the collection I’m working on now. They weren’t at the fair. Want to see?”
“Y-yes?”
She breathed in, out slowly, then did it again when Nathan stepped toward her. He tapped his phone a few times and held it out. When she took it, their fingers brushed, his fever-warm. She nearly dropped the phone. Biting her lip, she tried to focus on the pictures, and in a few seconds her hand steadied.
The piece of glass on Nathan’s screen was a clownfish, bright and stunning in detail. Willow used two fingers to enlarge the shot and study it. “Ooh, a companion series to your squid and shark.”
“Sort of,” Nathan said. “These are scaled bigger.”
“Can I see more?”
“Sure, just swipe.”
