Cheers and whistles burst from the crowded table.
Sawyer ducks his head. “Aw, don’t be doin’ that.” His cheeks flush hot pink.
Cain springs from his chair at the end of the table and smacks Sawyer on the back. “I fucking told you, didn’t I?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Sawyer mutters, pulling me closer before kissing my cheek.
“Who bet on a kiss?” Freya calls.
A few glasses rise around the table, and Sawyer’s cheeks only get redder.
“Let’s toast to that.” Cain leans over to grab his coffee off the table. “To Sawyer finally getting his girl! And to Elsie—welcome to the madness!”
A jumble of champagne flutes, coffee mugs, and teacups lift in the air, and another cheer breaks out.
As Sawyer guides me around the table with a protective hand at my back, tears sting my eyes, but I quickly swipe them away. Maybe I shouldn’t be surprised. Everyone always loved him. I understand. It’s hard not to. Still, a small part of me had braced for disappointment, for a sign that his friends thought he could do better. Instead, every smile I find around the table is genuine. The knot in my chest loosens. And all that’s left is relief.
“Oh!” Freya jumps up. “Sawyer. Elsie. I thought you might sit down here.” Her tiny legs scurry to two empty spots almost at the end. She hugs her arm around me as she pulls out the chair. “The calmer end of the table,” she whispers. “So you can get to know some new people.”
I glance at the woman with bobbed blonde hair sitting meekly at the end.
“Hi,” I say. “I’m…”
“Elsie.” She pushes up her glasses with a twitching finger. Is she…as nervous as me? “Everyone was talking about you at the last breakfast.”
I wince, edging into the chair. “Nice things, I hope.”
Sawyer stretches out in the chair next to me. “Onlynice things. I got a damn ribbin’ for not bein’ man enough to tell you how I felt, though.” He rests his arm over the back of my chair.
The woman agrees with a shy smile. “I’m Grace, by the way.”
“I’ve seen you,” I say. “You work at the library, don’t you?”
She nods. “I’m the one and only librarian they imported from Hobart. Against my will at first…”
“And, let me guess… Now, you secretly love the place?”
Her laugh is a gentle ripple. “Yes. I’ve seen you stop into the library a few times too. History. Sometimes…baking?”
“Oh, yes. That recipe book I borrowed was a powerful tool of self-reflection.”
“You discovered your inner baker?”
I shake my head. “I even failed at using a boxed mix. I think we can all safely agree my talents lie somewhere other than baking.”
“You won’t hear any complaints from me,” Sawyer says, his thumb a slow swirl on my shoulder. “Those cookies were damn tasty.”
I happily chat with Grace about books and her plans to learn croquet. Her offer for me to try it with her is instantly accepted. When I catch Freya watching us, I shoot her a grateful smile. She grins back. This spot at the end of the table is perfect. Like at the bar—the noise is behind me. It’s quieter, and I can keep up with the conversation.
I glance up every so often, wondering who we’re waiting for. The other seats fill up, more familiar faces from the community center wandering in, and only one chair waits, empty.
A shadow looms over the doorway.
“So gracious of you to join us!” Freya calls.
Dare bows to her before sauntering around the table to claim the empty chair across from Grace. His flinty eyes aren’t quite as intimidating in the morning light, but they’re still sharp enough to make me sit up straighter. His gaze drifts over the table in aslow, critical sweep. When it pauses on Grace, it’s for a fraction longer than on anyone else. Then, that fierce stare lands on me.
“Morning, little mouse,” he drawls.
