Page 152 of Wisteria and Cloves
Christopher stepped back as Miles crossed the room. I moved forward and wrapped my arms around him, inhaling the mingled scent of him and the garden—earthy, clean, and green.
“I heard you’re making that pesto again,” I said, looking up at him with a smile.
“For you? Always,” Miles replied, leaning down to kiss my forehead before pulling back and holding up the bundle of herbs like a bouquet. “Freshest of the fresh.”
I laughed as I shook my head before he moved more into the kitchen. As he worked, I leaned against the counter and watched him move—graceful and efficient, like cooking was a kind ofchoreography. Christopher came to stand beside me, casually sliding an arm around my waist.
It was a moment of simple domestic ease, and I treasured it. Julian returned a few minutes later, sleeves rolled and phone tucked away. He slipped into the kitchen and leaned in to kiss my cheek before greeting the others.
“Dinner smells incredible,” he said, glancing at Miles.
“Don’t praise it yet,” Miles replied, focused on plating. “You haven’t tasted it.”
“I don’t need to. I trust you. Besides…we all know this is the only dish you perfected.” Julian poured himself a glass of wine and turned to me.
"Would you like some?" Julian asked, gesturing with the bottle.
I nodded, accepting the glass he poured for me. "Just a little. I want to be well-rested for tomorrow morning."
"Ah yes, the crack of dawn adventure," Julian said with a hint of amusement. "Four-thirty is quite the commitment."
Miles looked up from his cooking, eyebrows raised. "Four-thirty? Nicolaus isn't messing around."
"Sunrise at the cove," I explained, taking a small sip of wine. The rich flavor bloomed on my tongue, complementing the herbaceous scent filling the kitchen. "He says it's worth the early hour."
"It is," Christopher confirmed, reaching past me for plates from the cabinet. "I've only been there once at dawn, but it's like something out of a painting."
We gathered around the table, falling into an easy rhythm that still amazed me—how four such different men could move together so seamlessly, anticipating each other's needs without words. Christopher set out plates while Miles arranged the food, Julian lit candles, and Nicolaus—who had appeared silently from his study—poured water and adjusted chairs.
"Perfect timing," Miles said, settling into his chair as Nicolaus took the seat across from me. The candlelight cast warm shadows across his angular features, softening the sharp lines of his cheekbones and jaw.
"How was your afternoon?" I asked him, noting the slight tension in his shoulders that suggested he'd been working intensely.
"Productive," Nicolaus replied, his voice carrying that familiar measured quality. "I finalized the arrangements for tomorrow." His eyes met mine across the table, and I caught a flicker of something—anticipation, perhaps, or nervous energy carefully contained.
"You're being very mysterious about this second part of our date," I said, twirling pasta around my fork. "Should I be worried?"
A ghost of a smile played at the corners of his mouth. "Only if you don’t trust me.”
"I trust you completely," I said without hesitation, and I meant it. The way his expression softened at my words made something warm unfurl in my chest.
"Then you have nothing to worry about," he murmured, his voice carrying that quiet confidence I'd come to associate with him. "Though I will say, comfortable shoes would be advisable."
Miles laughed, shaking his head. "You're killing her with anticipation, you know that?"
"Good," Nicolaus replied simply, taking a measured bite of his pasta. "Anticipation makes the experience more meaningful."
Julian raised his wine glass slightly in acknowledgment. "Spoken like a true strategist."
"Everything worth having requires patience," Nicolaus said, his eyes finding mine again. "Some things are worth the wait."
The way he said it—with that careful intensity that was so uniquely him—made my breath catch.
I felt heat bloom across my cheeks at his words, the double meaning not lost on me. "You're all terrible at keeping secrets," I said, trying to lighten the suddenly charged atmosphere. "The anticipation is going to keep me awake all night."
"That would be counterproductive," Nicolaus said seriously, though I caught the hint of amusement in his eyes. "You'll need your rest for tomorrow."
"Speaking of rest," Christopher interjected, reaching for the wine bottle to refill glasses, "what time should we expect you back? Should we plan dinner around your mysterious adventure?"
