Page 2 of All’s Well that Friends Well (Lucky in Love #2)

JULIET || present day

There’s a 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 our leader. 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.

“Ladies and 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 a boyfriend .”

It’s a bomb I drop with glee, but also with writhing curiosity of my own. If something is happening in my sisters’ love lives, I want to know. I want to be the first to 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. “Like cologne. ”

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?—

“You’re right,” India says to me, her eyes wide, her jaw gaping. “I smell cologne.”

I nod primly. “Some sort of Axe body spray, if I’m not mistaken.” It’s not as sophisticated as I’d expect from any man of Aurora’s, but ultimately, what do I know?

“And your hair,” India says to Aurora, patting the top of her blonde head. “Now that I think about it, your hair might look a little…mussed?”

“Mussed hair,” I say happily. “Excellent. Aurora— spill .”

“I—it isn’t—he isn’t— ugh .” Aurora’s noise of frustration bounces off the walls of the kitchen, and my smile widens, because I know we’ve worn her down.

“Spill!” I say again, in the most commanding voice I can manage. I poke her shoulder, practically dancing on my tiptoes. “Come on, tell us! What’s his name? Where did you meet? How long have you been dating?”

Aurora crosses her arms tightly over her chest, her gaze bouncing back and forth between me and India, her eyes narrowed.

“You two are pests, do you know that?” she says, but there’s a grudging hint of affection in the words, a twitch of a smile at the corners of her lips.

“We know,” India and I say together.

“Come on,” India says. “You guys were all over me when I was getting together with Felix.”

“You just needed some nudging in the right direction to make it to boyfriend–girlfriend status,” I say reasonably. “And it all worked out in the end. You’re inseparable now.” I lower my voice. “Ask him what he thinks about the kind of man who wears Axe body spray.”

India nods seriously and picks up her phone.

“ Hey ,” Aurora says, but we ignore her, and finally she sighs, resting back against the kitchen counter again. “Fine. I’m not dating him,” she says. “But I’ve been casually seeing a guy from work. Casually. ”

“What’s his name?” India says, and I nod quickly.

“Yeah,” I say. “Tell us his name, and how you met, and what he does?—”

“He’s the marketing manager,” Aurora says. “The manager of the department adjacent to mine.”

“So he’s not your boss?” I clarify.

“No.”

“Boo.” I pout. “I love a good employee–boss romance.”

Aurora gives me a little frown. “We have the same boss, and the same role in our respective departments.” She clears her throat. “Anyway, his name is Bart, and it’s all very new and very tentative, so?—”

“Bart?” India cuts her off, one brow quirking.

My nose wrinkles. “Bart?”

Aurora rolls her eyes. “Yes,” she says impatiently. “Bart. So what?”

India and I glance at each other, settling into our spots next to Aurora. “It’s just…an interesting name,” India says.

“Interesting how?” Aurora says, and I know I’m not imagining the defensiveness in her voice now.

But come on. Bart?

“Just…interesting,” I say. I keep my tone tactful as I go on, “Not the kind of name I would expect your boyfriend to have. But he could!” I add quickly when Aurora shows signs of protesting. “You could date any kind of name. Even weird ones or funky ones or names with bad juju.”

Aurora snorts. “Names with bad juju? That’s not a thing.”

I blink at her, surprised. “Of course it is. A name can carry inherently negative energy.”

Next to me, India nods, shifting her weight against the kitchen counter. “Adolf,” she says reasonably .

“Rasputin,” I add.

“Sauron—”

“ Bart. ”

India sniggers, but Aurora is not impressed.

“I regret telling you anything,” she says, straightening and nudging past us.

“Come back,” I say as India’s snigger turns into a real laugh. “We’ll be nice. We’ll be nice!”

She ignores us, sweeping out of the room with regal dignity. But it doesn’t have the effect I know she’s hoping for.

Because at the end of the day, she’s still dating a guy named Bart.

India sighs, a tired, happy sound—although everything she does is happy these days, because she managed to fall in love with our brother’s best friend.

“Things are changing,” she says, slouching over to the table and taking her seat again.

“I’ve found Felix, and now I guess Aurora is dating someone?

” She shrugs and glances at me, her smile fading. “I didn’t see that coming.”

“Neither did I,” I admit. It will take a strong, extremely confident man to keep up with Aurora.

“We’ll see what happens, I guess.” I pause and then jerk my chin at her phone still on the table.

“Tell Felix the guy’s name is Bart. See what he makes of that.

We should also ask Poppy. I’m getting very specific vibes about this marketing manager. ”

India wrinkles her nose. “I am too.” She grabs her phone and presses a few buttons, and a second later, she turns her call on speaker. We wait through three rings before Felix answers.

“You’re on speaker,” India says halfway through his greeting. “Did you see my text?”

“No,” he says. “Who all is here? ”

“Me,” I say. “Jules. And we have a very serious question for you about a man Aurora might or might not be dating.”

“Ooh,” Felix says, his voice full of interest as it echoes through the kitchen. “I’m intrigued.”

India turns the volume down and then speaks. “She’s apparently casually dating a guy named Bart who smells like Axe body spray.”

“What are the chances he’s a tool?” I say.

“Hmm.” Felix’s hum buzzes over the line, a skeptical sound. “Bart? Axe body spray? Chances are pretty high. Don’t tell her I said that,” he adds quickly, and India and I grin.

Felix is scared of Aurora. And honestly? He should be. Aurora would bury his body where no one could find it if he broke India’s heart.

“Okay,” India says. “I’ll call you later, all right?”

“Yep,” he says. “Bye, Sunshine.”

They hang up, and India hums and falls silent for a second. There’s a little smile on her face, a private one, because India plays things close to the chest and always has. Then she looks at me and says, “What about you? Anyone on your radar?”

One face pops into my mind, grumpy and scowling, eyes filled with disapproval and disdain behind square-rimmed glasses.

“Nope,” I say lightly. I give her a bright smile. “I’m in a relationship with my job hunt.”