Page 3 of All's Well that Friends Well

No, Juliet.

Aurora

NO, JULIET. NO.

JULIET || present day

There’sa natural hierarchy among siblings. People don’t usually acknowledge it—not in my family, anyway—but it’s there all the same, and not necessarily dependent upon who’s oldest.

For example, in a room with all four Marigold siblings, a battle for dominance emerges between my older brother, Cyrus, and my oldest sister, Aurora. Aurora is only two years younger than Cy, but she’s every bit the alpha that he is, which means they butt heads constantly. They always have. Cyrus’s best friend, Poppy, is the only one who can diffuse those situations.

Cyrus and Poppy are going to get married someday, by the way, even if they don’t know it yet. I will make that wedding happen through sheer willpower alone.

When Cyrus is absent, though, and it’s just me, Aurora, and India, Aurora is in charge. We look to her to be ourleader. She’s the oldest sister, India is in the middle, and I’m the baby.

And that’s who I’ve always been: the baby. The one who needs to be taken care of. The one nobody takes seriously.

No one expects me to take care of myself. I adore my siblings—more than my own life, easily—but their brand of sheltering, catering love can be stifling sometimes.

Every now and then, though, I get my moments to shine, and those moments make me feel bright and glittery inside.

This is one of them.

I waltz into the kitchen one lovely Friday evening, my revelation dancing on the tip of my tongue. Aurora is leaning back against the counter, still in her work clothes and looking tired. India is seated at the table, her red hair in a careless ponytail, her attention fixed on her cheese quesadilla.

It’s a small space we’re in, but we don’t mind. We’ve been renting this house together for several years, and so far we’ve had no problems.

“Ladies,” I say, coming to a stop in front of the refrigerator and addressing them both.

“Ladiesand gentlemen,” India corrects, nodding at the little fishbowl on the counter, in which swims her adorable pet fish, Joplin.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” I coo, waving a few fingers at Joplin. Then I turn back to my sisters. “I’ve been doing some thinking.”

They look at me—India with curiosity, Aurora with skepticism, Joplin the Fish with blank fishy eyes—so I nod.

“After several days of investigation, I’ve come to one conclusion.” I turn my gaze to Aurora. “Aurora…has aboyfriend.”

It’s a bomb I drop with glee, but also with writhingcuriosity of my own. If something is happening in my sisters’ love lives, I want to know. I want to be thefirstto know. I want to cheer them on and giggle and kick my feet and dissect every word of every conversation with them.

I want to help them get ready for dates. I want to do their hair. I want to watch them fall in love with abandon, reckless and bright and glowing. I want those things for them.

And for myself, too, if I’m being honest. Sometimes I think it might happen soon.

I push That Man out of my mind and focus on my sisters, and it’s India who reacts to my news first. She makes a skeptical little sound around the bite of quesadilla she’s chewing.

“How did you come to this conclusion?” she says, her mouth still full of food.

“Chew and swallow,” I say with a little frown. India rolls her eyes but chews faster.

Aurora, meanwhile, doesn’t speak—but I swear on my own future grave that there’s a bit of pink in her cheeks.

So I lay out the facts. “Every day for the last week, Aurora has been home about an hour later than usual.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Aurora says with a scoff.

“Also,” I go on as though she hasn’t spoken, “she smells different.” I smile at her. “Likecologne.”

India gasps at the table, a sound that’s followed by the scraping of her chair as she gets up. Together we swarm Aurora, who tries in vain to swat us away. We sniff at her hair and her shirt and her neck in a way that would be totally weird if we weren’t sisters, and sure enough?—

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