Page 36 of Wisteria and Cloves
"We're high enough here to get decent stargazing," Miles explained, following my gaze to the telescope. "Not perfect—city lights and all—but on clear nights you can see quite a bit."
I approached the instrument with reverent steps, hardly daring to touch it. "It's beautiful."
"It's Nicolaus's, technically," Julian said, coming to stand beside me. "But he's generous about sharing it. He knows more about the constellations than the rest of us combined."
I traced the telescope's elegant curve with my fingertips, imagining nights spent beneath the stars, learning their patterns and stories. "I've only ever seen stars in books," I admitted quietly. "My parents' estate was well-lit at night—security concerns, they said."
"Light pollution," Miles confirmed with a slight frown. "Though I suspect the security concerns were secondary to keeping you from having too much wonder about the world beyond their control."
Julian's jaw tightened at Miles's observation, but he kept his voice gentle when he spoke. "Would you like to try it? The telescope? Even in daylight you can see some things—the moon if it's visible, sometimes Venus."
I looked up at him, searching his face for any sign that this was a test or trap. But his hazel eyes held only patient interest, the same expression he'd worn when offering me the violin.
"I would love that," I whispered, hardly daring to believe such a simple pleasure was being offered without conditions.
Julian moved behind the telescope, adjusting the angle and focus with practiced ease. "Nicolaus taught us all the basics. He says anyone who looks up at the night sky and doesn't wonderwhat's out there is missing something essential." He stepped back, gesturing for me to look through the eyepiece. "It's not pointed at anything specific right now, but you can get a feel for how it works."
I bent down, closing one eye as I pressed the other to the telescope. The world through the lens appeared magnified and startlingly clear, the leaves on a distant tree suddenly visible in intricate detail. "It's amazing," I breathed, adjusting my position slightly. "Everything looks so close."
"Wait until you see the moon's surface," Miles said, settling into one of the lounge chairs nearby. "The craters, the shadows—it's like you could reach out and touch it."
I straightened, reluctantly pulling away from the telescope. "Could we... would it be possible to come up here at night sometime?"
"Anytime you want," Julian replied, simply with a smile on his face as he looked down at me. His blue eyes seemed to sparkle, causing me to look down at the floor, my cheeks heating up.
"Thank you," I said softly, still avoiding Julian's gaze. The casual freedom they offered—to use a telescope, to come and go as I pleased, to simply exist without constant evaluation—felt almost more overwhelming than my parents' restrictions.
Miles stretched his long legs out in front of him, tilting his face toward the sun. "We come up here most clear nights. Sometimes with wine, sometimes just to decompress. It's peaceful."
"Christopher falls asleep within twenty minutes every time," Julian added with a fond smile. "Claims the stars make him philosophical, but really they just make him drowsy."
I found myself smiling at the image—these four powerful Alphas lounging beneath the stars, teasing each other as Christopher dozed off. It was so different from the rigid formality I'd been raised with, where even leisure activities were structured for maximum propriety.
"What about in winter?" I asked.
"We have outdoor heaters and plenty of blankets," Julian explained, gesturing to storage benches along the perimeter. "Nicolaus insists winter skies offer the best visibility—something about cold air and atmospheric clarity."
I wrapped my arms around myself, imagining sitting bundled beneath winter stars, maybe with hot chocolate, surrounded by the warmth of these men who seemed determined to show me a different way of living. Maybe even make a nest…I quickly shook the thought out of my head as Miles spoke up.
"Would you like to see the garden next?" Miles suggested, rising from his chair with fluid grace. "It's smaller than what you're probably used to, but we've made the most of the space."
I nodded, taking one last look at the telescope before following them back down the narrow staircase. The idea that I could return anytime—that this sanctuary beneath the stars was now part of my home—felt like a gift too precious to fully comprehend.
The garden turned out to be a modest courtyard behind the house, enclosed by ivy-covered brick walls that created a sense of private sanctuary. Unlike the manicured perfection of my parents' formal gardens, this space had a wild, intentional charm. Raised beds overflowed with vegetables and herbs alongside flowering plants attracting butterflies and bees.
"This is Miles's domain," Julian explained as we descended the steps into the green sanctum. "He's turned what was essentially a concrete pad into this."
Miles shrugged, but I could see the pride in his eyes as he surveyed his creation. "Growing things keeps me grounded. Reminds me that some processes can't be rushed, no matter how impatient you are."
I approached a raised bed where tomato plants climbed sturdy trellises, their fruits hanging like small red lanterns among the green foliage. "It's beautiful. So alive."
"That's the idea," Miles replied, kneeling beside one of the beds to check the soil moisture. "Your parents' gardens—all for show, right? Nothing you could actually eat or touch?"
I nodded, remembering the pristine flower beds that existed solely for aesthetic purposes. "My mother said vegetable gardens were... common. Beneath our station." I touched a tomato vine gently, surprised by its soft leaves. "But this feels more real somehow."
"Because it serves a purpose beyond looking pretty," Miles said, standing and brushing dirt from his hands. "Half the herbs Christopher uses come from right here. The tomatoes go into his sauces, the basil into his bread."
"Would you like to help sometime?" Julian asked, watching me trail my fingers over the plant leaves with obvious fascination. "Miles is always looking for extra hands, especially during harvest season."
