Page 148 of Wisteria and Cloves
It was unusually quiet. The comforting kind of quiet—not empty, but peaceful. No clattering in the kitchen, no music, no low voices from another room. Just the warmth of the morning sun and the ticking of a nearby clock. As I walked past the study wing, I caught the faintest sound of paper turning and pen scratching. Julian’s door was half-open, light spilling out into the hallway.
I paused.
I could have kept walking. Could have gone to the kitchen, made tea, waited for someone else to find me. But something about the gentle pull in my chest said I needed to see him now. So I stepped through the open door.
Julian sat at his desk, the light caught in the dark strands of his tousled hair, glinting against his reading glasses. His sleeves were rolled to the elbows, collar slightly open, and there was a small ink smudge on his finger where he held the pen. He looked utterly composed. But when his eyes lifted and found mine, something warmer flickered beneath that carefully constructed calm.
“You’ve been standing there a while,” he said, voice smooth and low.
I blinked, startled. “You always know when I’m watching you.”
Julian leaned back in his chair, setting down his pen. “Only when it’s you.”
“I wasn’t sure if I should interrupt,” I admitted as I stepped further into the room.
“You’re never an interruption,” he said without hesitation. “Come here.” I crossed the thick rug slowly, drawn to him like a tide to the shore. He opened one arm in invitation, and I moved around the desk and let myself settle between his legs as he remained seated. One of his arms wrapped around my waist while the other reached up to tuck a stray piece of hair behind my ear.
His fingers lingered, tracing lightly along my cheek. “Did you sleep well?”
I nodded. “I did. Better than I have in a long time.”
He studied me for a moment, his eyes scanning my face, lingering on my mouth, before his gaze softened. “There’s something different about you this morning.”
“I feel different,” I admitted, brushing my fingers lightly through his hair. “Lighter. Like I finally stopped waiting for permission to belong here.”
Julian’s hand curved gently around the back of my neck, his touch warm. “You never needed permission.”
“I know,” I said. “But it still helps… when someone reminds me.” He pulled me a little closer, and I leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. It wasn’t rushed. It didn’t need to be. His mouth moved against mine with familiar ease, gentle and reverent. When I pulled away, I lingered, resting my forehead against his.
Before either of us could say anything, a knock on the doorframe pulled our attention. Nicolaus stood just outside, one hand braced casually against the door. His eyes found me first—then Julian. There was a question in his gaze, but no jealousy. Just awareness.
“Am I interrupting?” he asked, voice calm but curious.
Julian didn’t move. “You’re not.” I glanced at him, then back to Nicolaus, and smiled shyly at him, which cause a flicker of amusement to go through Nicolaus’s eyes
Nicolaus stepped inside, quiet and steady as ever. “I was looking for you,” he said, voice directed to me now. “I had hoped to set up my date if you didn’t have plans for tomorrow.” His eyes flickered to Julian then back to me.
My heart fluttered at the formal way he phrased it—so perfectly Nicolaus, careful and considerate even in hiseagerness. I straightened in Julian's arms, turning to face him more fully while Julian's hand remained warm at my waist.
"Tomorrow sounds perfect," I said, unable to keep the smile from my voice. "What did you have in mind?"
A hint of satisfaction crossed Nicolaus's features, though he maintained his composed demeanor, “The second part is a surprise…but the first part…I thought you would like to get up early to go for a swim with me.”
"Swimming?" I echoed, surprised but intrigued. I hadn't been swimming since those formal lessons my mother had arranged years ago—clinical affairs in chlorinated pools with instructors who valued form over fun.
"Yes," Nicolaus said, his eyes warming as he observed my reaction. "There's a private cove about an hour from here. The water is perfect this time of year—not too cold, completely clear. We'd have it entirely to ourselves."
I felt a flutter of excitement in my chest. "I'd love that. Though I should warn you, I'm not very good. My swimming lessons were more about posture than actual enjoyment."‘
Julian's thumb traced small circles at my waist, a silent gesture of support, “I think with swimming being his job, helping you will be no problem.” I nodded, knowing that him being a swimming champion would definitely help in this situation.
“I know…I am just informing you so you don't expect too much," I finished with a self-deprecating laugh.
Nicolaus stepped closer, his expression growing tender. "I don't expect anything except the pleasure of your company," he said quietly. "And perhaps the chance to show you that water can be about freedom rather than performance."
The way he said it—with such gentle understanding—made my chest warm. Of course he would understand the weightof expectations that had shaped even something as simple as swimming lessons.
"What time should I be ready?" I asked, already anticipating the feel of sun on my skin and clear water around me.
