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Jess: Soren is helping me. he’s going to co-sign the lease. he’s even helping me pick out the colors for the walls and the light fixtures

Priya: Jess wow. are you sure?

Jess: yeah I’m sure. I’m sooooo excited. I have so many ideas

Callie: wow congrats girl

I had to move. I’d been putting off messaging them all morning, the awkwardness and potential for disaster making my toes curl.

so proud of you, Jess, I wrote, then, improvising with a clenched jaw: it’s been a week since the retreat and I feel like a celebration is in order. are you all free tonight? drinks at my place?

It took fifteen seconds for Callie to confirm. Five minutes later, Priya typed yes what time.

6:30? I typed.

They both confirmed. Impatiently, I watched three dots bounce, waiting for Jess. The dots jumped, stopped, and jumped again.

I’ll be there, she typed.

I let out a breath. But then my pulse immediately started to race. I needed a strategy, which started with me walking to the pantry and helping myself to Vivienne’s calming supplement stack.

I drove home mumbling expletives at the traffic. I grabbed snacks, flowers, and drinks at lightspeed from the grocery store. Right as I arrived home, I got some more coven-approved texts from Damian. A photo of him shirtless that wrecked my focus for a solid twelve minutes and that I saved to my camera roll immediately. I stared at it again. There was a second tattoo on his torso, but because of the angle, I couldn’t see it clearly. It was taken in his kitchen, and on the counter behind him, there was a salt shaker and a few rusty nails. The photo had arrived with a text:

can’t stop thinking about what you said last night. you say yes to things most people spend their lives finding reasons to say no to. I don’t think you know how special you are. I do.

With very little time to spare, I had to go through the emotional ride of lust and warmth and frustration all over again. I moved a strand of loose hair aside with a rough swipe then sent I’d follow you into anything.

I had an hour to get my apartment ready. It told the story of the last seven days: the clutter on the dresser in disarray from pushing the thing repeatedly against the door, the bed sheets rumpled into hills, and a sink full of unwashed dishes. The peony still floated in a bowl on the table. Gingerly, I buried it in the potting soil of a planter on my balcony.

I popped the cork off a bottle of wine, poured myself a glass, put on an angsty singer-songwriter playlist, and threw myself into work. If there was one thing I knew how to do, it was put an event together under duress. I threw a tablecloth over the table on my balcony, topped it with a trio of pillar candles, and scattered flowers and wooden beads. I dotted tealights on the ground around my plants and hung a string of lights along the railing. I’d captured Aurora’s vibe eerily.

“Just missing a goat’s head,” I mumbled, lighting the last candle.

Callie arrived first with a bottle of sangria and a hug that took my feet off the ground.

“Oh my god, the cutest,” she gushed at the table.

Priya arrived four minutes later, still buttoned up from work, a tray of neatly packaged charcuterie in her hands. A small black stone hung at her throat on a fine chain, over the collar of her work shirt, where nothing had hung before. Last came Jess. She’d gotten bangs and wore a cottage-core cardigan embroidered with toadstools. Another new bracelet, this one an ornate silver cuff, sat on her wrist.

“Soren,” she said when my eyes landed on it. “He has great taste.”

We sat around the table, music softly spilling from my Bluetooth speaker. I poured wine. We grazed on food and laughed. We talked about a launch party for Jess’s store. It was so easy and comfortable, the idea of being the record scratch in the room was even worse than I’d thought. I drank wine too fast, needing the courage, until I felt the skin of my neck flush.

We reminisced and laughed together like we’d silently agreed that whatever happened at the retreat could be explained away by bougie boho flair. Callie told the story of the cacao ceremony again, with the bone-chilling moments of primal fear casually omitted. Their consorts really had been laying it on thick. Priya did Aurora’s breathy voice so perfectly, Jess nearly choked on a date.

“Welcome to the rest of your lives. Welcome to your one true flame,” Priya murmured, a hand placed theatrically to her heart.

Another half-hour in, I decided it was time to move the conversation, inch by inch.

“It’s kind of wild that we all met our twin flames right away,” I said, ending on an easy laugh. “Like, really weird.”

They made noises of agreement, smiling at the candlelight.

“Are you all being love-bombed?” I asked, reaching for my glass.

Priya rolled her eyes. “Adrian sends voice notes I have to listen to with headphones, even when I’m alone. They’re that intense.”

I laughed. “And he’d never even talked to you a week ago.”