Page 43 of Knotting else Matters

“Looks like it.” I kicked off my shoes and climbed onto the bed beside her, sinking into the absurdly fluffy pile, the soft pillows practically swallowing me. “If I disappear in here, tell Adrian to send a search party.”

Another faint laugh, and this time it lingered just a bit longer. She shifted, her head leaning against my shoulder, her fingers still gripping the plush fabric of one of the pillows.

“I just wanted everything to be perfect,” she whispered, her voice small, almost childlike. “I wanted it to be beautiful. I wanted… I wanted everyone to be happy.”

“And it will be.” I slipped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer, letting her warmth and the sweet, familiar scent of her shampoo wash over me. “Or as close to perfect as anything ever is. And trust me, nobody’s going to care if the napkins are burgundy or if the flowers are a little different.”

“I know. I know you’re right.” She sighed, her cheek pressing against my shoulder. “But it’s just… I don’t know. I feel like I’m going to mess it all up.”

“You won’t.” I tightened my grip on her, letting the quiet, warm glow of the room wrap around us. “You’ve always been the one who keeps everything together, Sophie. Even when we were kids. Remember that time you convinced Mom to let me stay at the lake house after I got caught sneaking out?”

A faint smile tugged at her lips. “You were so mad at her. And then you bribed me with ice cream to lie for you.”

“I was a rebel.” I grinned, my fingers tracing slow, soothing circles against her shoulder. “And you were the perfect little sister, always covering for me. I think I owe you a lifetime of ice cream for that.”

She sniffled, her smile growing just a bit. “You owe me more than that. I covered for you a lot.”

“I know. But I’m here now, right? Covering for you this time.”

“Yeah.” She leaned into me, the tension in her small frame slowly fading. “Do you… do you remember the time we made that blanket fort in the living room? And Mom yelled at us because we used her fancy silk scarves as decorations?”

“I remember you insisting that a proper fort needed ‘elegance.’” I snorted, brushing a stray curl away from her damp cheek. “You were eight going on eighty. Such a little perfectionist.”

“Still am.” She laughed, softer this time, a warm, gentle sound that eased the tight ache in my chest. “You… you were always so wild. Always doing what you wanted. I… I used to envy that.”

“Oh, please.” I leaned back, letting my head rest against one of the pastel pillows. “You got away with everything. You had Mom wrapped around your little finger.‘Oh, Sophie’s so sweet. Sophie’s so polite. Sophie would never lie.’”

Her soft laugh turned into a giggle, a little more color returning to her cheeks. “She never figured out I was the one who broke her fancy vase, did she?”

“Nope. I took the blame for that one. Six weeks of grounding. You’re welcome.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” I squeezed her shoulder, letting the warmth of her lean against me, letting the simple comfort of her presence calm the restlessness in my chest. “It’s what sisters do. We cover for each other. We fight, we drive each other crazy, but… we’re always there.”

Sophie’s fingers relaxed, her grip on the pillow loosening. Her breathing steadied, the faint shuddering edges smoothing out. For a moment, we were just two sisters tangled in a ridiculous pile of pastel fluff, hiding from the world like we used to hide in our childhood blanket forts.

And I knew—deep down—I was still mad at her. Still hurt by the way she’d manipulated me into staying at the hotel, the way she’d tried to steer my life without even asking. But that anger could wait. Right now, she needed me, and nothing else mattered.

Karl’s voice was a soft, soothing murmur as he slipped into the pastel paradise, a steaming mug of chamomile tea in one hand and a plate of delicate mint cookies in the other. Sophie’s face lit up, the faintest, tired smile touching her lips.

“Thank you, love,” she whispered, her fingers curling around the warm mug.

“Anything for you.” He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.

“There’s… there’s this place up north,” Sophie murmured, her gaze flicking between us, her voice still soft, a little shaky. “They have the flowers I wanted. The exact ones. But they don’t do deliveries on such short notice.”

“I’ll get a car and drive there,” I said without hesitation, the decision falling from my lips like a reflex.

“Liv—”

I leaned in, pressing a quick, gentle kiss to her forehead. “Try to relax. Me and Wolfzilla will take care of it. And if I kill him in the process, at least we’ll have the flowers for the funeral.”

Sophie’s laugh was weak but real, a soft, grateful warmth in her eyes. “Thank you, Liv. Really.”

“Don’t thank me yet.” I pulled back, offering her a faint, reassuring smile. “Just text me the details, and I’ll handle it.”

Sophie nodded, leaning into Karl, her fingers tracing the edge of the warm mug. I gave them one last glance, then slipped out of the room, closing the door quietly behind me.

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