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“That’s actually very real,” Callie said, looking at the spread. We busied ourselves filling our plates.

Kai arrived with a carafe of coffee and mugs. That’s all I really remember about him that morning. Somewhere last night, he’d stopped being an exclamation point.

He passed a mug to Callie first. They exchanged a two-second glance, and his fingers grazed hers as the mug passed between them.

I looked at Callie meaningfully. She looked back at me.

Priya, across the table, was holding her coffee with both hands, like it was a small animal. “What was actually in the cacao?” she said.

“I told you last night, sweetheart,” Aurora said.

“Tell me again. I wasn’t at my forensic best.”

Aurora laughed, low and warm. “Ecuadorian ceremonial-grade cacao, spices, a little maca, Himalayan salt, and muscovado sugar. I’ll send you the supplier if you want. They’re lovely. They have a whole thing about the moon phases.”

“I would love that,” Priya said, but it landed flat.

“Marlowe,” Aurora said, gently. “You’re not eating.”

“I’m working up to it.”

“Take your time. You look like you took the longest walk last night.”

I looked up.

She was smiling at me with such precise warmth that I couldn’t remember what we’d been talking about. Her eyes were bright, missing nothing. She was watching me the way I had to watch my high-maintenance, unreliable boss.

“Did I?” I said.

“Did you what, sweetie?”

“Did I take a walk?”

“Well only you would know that, Marlowe.”

I wanted to say more, but the headache was making the cogs in my brain turn slowly. Instead I said, “I had weird dreams. That’s all. I had…cacao dreams. I’m not making sense.”

I ate my breakfast.

Across the table, Priya was watching me. She caught my eye and held it for a second. I gave her the faintest not now, and she clocked it. I saw you, her face said. I saw you and I’m not going to make you explain. I loved her for that. I went back to my breakfast.

Jess hadn’t said a word, and she also hadn’t eaten. She was looking at the cove through the trees.

“Now,” Aurora said, gathering the plates. “Let’s talk about the beautiful transformation underway in all of you. Plant medicine works at a very deep level. It encourages us to let go so the new can come in, and letting go hurts.” She paused to refill our water glasses. “What happened last night is real, and it’s also newborn. The next thirty days are what we call the tender window. The flame is finding its way to you, and the channel you opened is still soft. Everything you do in the tender window either widens it or lets it silt back up.” She made a gathering motion with her hands. “You’ll feel tired in the coming days. That’s integration, my lovelies, that’s all part of the work. Honor it.”

Callie nodded. The rest of us just listened. My head hammered. I begged the Tylenol to kick in.

“Now, as you know, I keep this work to a small number of women. This isn’t the kind of thing that can be done at volume. So I wanted to let you know, before I share it online, that we’ll be having another gathering on the solstice. The solstice is one of the most powerful times of the year for manifestation. For this kind of magic.”

We nodded, our meager smiles tight. When none of us spoke, Aurora continued.

“I’ll say only this. The women who continue this work are the ones whose stories I end up telling. You will meet your twin flame soon, I guarantee it,” she said, tapping her fingers once on the table. “But he isn’t the miracle, my loves. He’s just the beginning. The miracle is what arrives for the women who keep the flame fed. The ones who truly, deeply surrender and become new. That’s the work we do here,” she said, making a sweeping motion with her hand. “This is about more than just a relationship. It’s about the rest of your lives.”

“Wow,” Callie said, but she wasn’t looking at Aurora. She was staring at her coffee.

Half an hour of strained conversation floated around the table, until Aurora mentioned the tide, looking at the sky like it was a bohemian substitute for a watch.

“The tide?” said Callie.