Page 99 of All's Well that Friends Well
She eyes my smile with bright curiosity, but then she launches into her song.
And she’s right; she’s not a gifted singer. But she sings the whole thing anyway, soft and genuine and joyful, her gaze locked on mine the whole time until she reaches the last line:“Happy birthday to you!”
Then she nudges the pan toward me. “Make a wish!” she says, her smile spread as wide as it will go, her cheeks faintly flushed, her skin glowing golden from the candlelight. “Make a wish. Anything you want.”
I swallow at the words as my chest buzzes. “I told you. We can’t always have what we want, Jules,” I say hoarsely.
She hums. “Not always,” she agrees, her voice quiet. Her eyes flit over my face. “But sometimes we can.”
My words escape before I can stop them, low and hoarse and tugged from the deepest recesses of my soul. “Can I have what I want?”
Something electric ripples over my skin as her gaze drops to my lips.
“That depends,” she says softly. Then her eyes fly back to mine as she arches one brow. “Do you expect it to be handed to you on a silver platter, or are you willing to work for it?”
My silence is only a few seconds, but it contains all of the questions I’ve ever asked myself about this woman—and the answers all coalesce into six words, words I give her with completely honesty. “I’m willing to work for it,” I say.
She nods, a slow movement that highlights the flames reflected in her eyes. “Then blow out the candles,” she whispers, “and make your wish.”
It flows into my mind without invitation, the wish that must have been lingering just below the surface of my thoughts.
I want the courage and strength to move forward. I want the ability to let go of the past.
I want to be able to fall in love with this woman.
JULIET
I knowLuca is the one who had his birthday yesterday, but when I wake up the next morning, I feel like I’m the one who was given a gift.
After he blew out his candles last night and then made his wish—which he wouldn’t tell me, by the way—we ate peach crumble. And it was amazing, but all I could focus on was what he had said.
That he was willing to work for what he truly wanted. And I think…
I think what Luca wants isme.
So there’s a spring in my step as I get dressed for the day; I practically waltz down the hallway and into the bathroom to brush my teeth.
Unfortunately, my mood is hampered slightly by the sight of Aurora, headphones on, wiping down the mirror.
“Oh, dear,” I say.
When we asked yesterday why she wanted cleaner,Aurora didn’t elaborate. She just said she was feeling stressed at work. But this clearly goes beyond normal stress, because her eyes are doing that squinty thing they do when she’s angry. She’s cleaning that mirror like it’s wronged her.
I clear my throat and step into the bathroom, giving her a little wave in the mirror so she’ll know I’m here. She pauses her manic wipe down and looks over her shoulder at me. When she gestures to her headphones, I reach up and pull them off for her.
“Hi,” she says breathlessly. “Do you need in?”
“I need to brush my teeth,” I say with an apologetic smile. “But what’s going on, Ror? Is this about Bart?” I gesture at her t-shirt and leggings. “Don’t you have to get ready for work?”
“I have the morning off,” she says, her eyes darting away from mine, and my jaw drops.
She has the morning off? When has that ever happened?
“All right,” I say, putting my hands on my hips and standing up straighter. My excitement about Luca filters out of my mind as I zero in on my sister. “Spill. Now.”
Aurora sighs, but before she can protest, I say it again.
“Now.Come on.” It’s a struggle to keep my voice so stern, but I manage it. And when Aurora gives another sigh, I know my approach has worked.
