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Wren’s snarl cut through the air. All five-foot-five of her sprang upright, eyes blazing at the phone like she could burn a hole through it. Her reaction lessened the sting of Victoria’s jab.

Natasha’s eyes flicked skyward. Then a practiced professional smile slid neatly into place. “I know it must be hard to see her happy with someone else.” And despite the clear disdain in her gaze her tone was warm and firm. “Maybe it’s time to accept the fact that she’s found someone that makes her happy?”

A brittle laugh cracked from the speaker. “Forgive me if I think she can do better.”

Wren darted over, covering Ali’s ears and muffling the conversation. Ali couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out as she frothed milk for the latte, grateful for the ridiculousness of it. Wren’s protectiveness, her humor, and sheer resilience were blessings.

Victoria’s voice became as soft and distant as background noise. Wren’s laughter and Natasha’s steady presence made room for a dangerous wistful thought.

What if she stayed?

Even after Charlotte inevitably moved on and found someone else worthy of her… What if she stayed for them? These two forces of chaos and calm who made the world less heavy.

Natasha ended the call, tossing the tube of mascara into her bag with an exhale. “There. She should leave you alone now.”

“Thank you,” Ali said, gaze fixed on the coffee cup as she ran her thumb around the lid, double-checking the seal.

“She’s wrong, by the way.”

Natasha’s voice was calm, dark eyes sharp enough to peel back every layer and unravel every secret Ali didn’t want touched.

“About?”

“You are good enough for Charlotte,” Natasha said simply as she pulled out a tube of lipstick. “And good for her.”

Wren bobbed her head beside her, quick to back her up. “There’s a reason she asked you to be her f—” She caught herself mid-word and veered off-course. “Her girlfriend.”

Silence stretched for half a heartbeat and Ali held her breath. Natasha’s brow arched. Wren turned toward the pastry case, grabbing the tongs. “Banana bread?”

Natasha’s expression soured like she’d bitten into a lemon. “No, thank you. I don’t like bananas.”

“Texture or flavor thing?” Wren asked, clicking the tongs in Natasha’s direction.

“It’s simply the worst fruit.” Natasha snapped the lid back on the lipstick before packing it back into her make-up bag. “Well, I’ve got to head to the courthouse. I’ll see you tomorrow, Ali. Wren, it was a pleasure meeting you.”

“The pleasure was all mine,” Wren drawled, leaning a hip against the counter and peering over Natasha’s shoulder. “Wanna borrow my umbrella?”

Ali followed her gaze, the glass blurred with rain falling in a thick sheet.

Natasha winced. “I have one in the car.”

Wren fetched her umbrella and walked Natasha, holding it high enough to shield Natasha’s hair and most of her dress. Through the downpour, Ali caught a flash of teal and Wren’s bright grin as she darted back under the canopy.

She waved as the car pulled away from the curb. Then, she shook droplets from her umbrella, tapping the tip against the ground for good measure. Rain clung to her skin and lashes as she came back in, propping the umbrella beside the door. She launched into a mile-a-minute ramble about nothing in particular. Hands flying as she restocked the mugs, breath puffing damp platinum strands out of her face.

Ali listened, adding her own two cents here and there. For the first time in a long time, it felt like maybe things were finally falling into place. Maybe this was a place worth planting some roots.

18

CHARLOTTE

Infuriating.

That was the word Charlotte landed on to describe Victoria’s current behavior.

Glued to Sasha’s side, she prattled on about “her” vision for the bridal shower. Made up stories about how she handled the planning, colors, and the menu. Every word was fiction because Charlotte was the primary planner with Ali and Natasha acting as her assistants.

Across the table, Natasha’s composure was unraveling though it hardly showed. But Charlotte knew the signs, her jaw was clenched, and anger simmered in her gaze.