40. Daphne

Chapter 40

Daphne

You’ve got this, Daphne. You’re smart, brave, and charming. This weekend will be epic , I tell my reflection in the mirror of the bathroom at Petal it’s a testament to life,” I say, my voice trembling with emotion. “This year, I learned that being brave enough to fail, resilient enough to feel, and audacious enough to live with your heart leading the way is something special. Your too much is just too vibrant for someone else’s too little .”

My heart swells. “So, thank you all for helping me stretch the boundaries of my world this year. Thank you for letting my too much weave into yours. And let’s enjoy the weekend.”

The room bursts into applause as I step away from the mic, and suddenly I’m engulfed by a swarm of new friends. I thought I’d be terrified for my first in-person meet and greet, but as soon as the first person walks up to me, my nerves fade away. It feels like being surrounded by a hive of incredibly supportive, yarn-loving bees. Their excitement is contagious, and I feel like the queen bee in this cozy hive. My cheeks ache from smiling, but I wouldn’t trade this moment for anything.

Petal & Plate is decorated perfectly—exposed brick walls adorned with lush, trailing plants and twinkling fairy lights. Wooden shelves display colorful skeins of yarn and cozy knitted blankets, adding warmth to the space. After our kickoff session, we do icebreakers, the room buzzing with laughter and conversation. The vibes are immaculate, and Rosie’s almond croissants disappeared within the hour—I may have had three. Bea showed up, ensuring I took a water and food break mid-morning. My sister and moms joined over video call for Miranda Lambright’s chat about wool production.

A reporter from the Stone Times stopped by to cover the event.

As people break for lunch and I’m binding off my third beanie, I hear, “Daphne Quinn!”

I turn and spot Georgia Woods walking through Petal & Plate in a crochet sweater dress that hugs all her curves. Her pink hair is thrown up in a perfectly imperfect messy bun. After a month of video calls designing outfits together, she is even more gorgeous in person. I’m so awestruck, I might just faint. “It’s so nice to meet you in person!” she says, hugging me.

“Oh my god, you smell so good,” I blurt out, laughing. “I mean, hi, thank you for coming.”

“And you smell like a vanilla bean cupcake. We gotta swap perfume links.” She shoots me a cheeky smile. “Congrats on your event. This place is a stunner.”

How is this my freaking life? “You flatter me! I had so much fun working on the strawberry skirt pattern you designed last week. Whoever ends up with it may have to sleep with one eye open.”

We have about ten designs finalized for the show, but we need about fifty more before the start of the season in two months.

“Tell me about it. I made it on my season, but it disappeared before I even had a chance to wear it. I swear, one of the girls put it in their suitcase.”

“They did not! Well, come this way, I’ll help you get settled in,” I say, leading her up the stairs while people finish up their lunch. Georgia agreed to co-lead a breakout session with me today about cyberbullying and the importance of fostering kindness and empathy online. Our first official Lust Island initiative together!

“I was thinking about your comment last week, about how we can start documenting our collaboration. We should totally take a picture today. Do some fun hinting on the socials, right?” she asks.

“Let’s do it,” I respond, my words bubbling over with giddy excitement.

We get set up, strategically laying out our yarn and needles, and snap a photo near the table Cameron and I sat at when he first brought me here.

Our session is a success. Georgia opens up about being bullied after winning last season. She shares how anonymous trolls flooded her social media with cruel comments, mocking her appearance and questioning her talent, which led her to take a month away from all platforms to regain her mental health. Her story, so similar to my own, resonates deeply.

Others join in, sharing their experiences. Sarah, a twenty-year-old who flew out from New York, recounts how a jealous coworker spread lies about her at the office, making her dread going to work every day. Ursula, a university student, speaks about classmates creating a fake profile to harass her online, leaving her feeling isolated and scared to attend school.

It becomes clear that everyone has encountered someone who has tried to tear them down. By the end of the session, there isn’t a dry eye in sight.

The rest of the day whizzes by in a blur of yarn and laughter. Cocktail hour is a riot. I feel like I’ve found a community that’s more like family. If I could bottle up the support and enthusiasm in that room, I’d be a billionaire.

I leave Petal & Plate with cheeks aching from a daylong grin and a heart so full it might burst. One thing’s for sure—even though there’s one more day left, I can confidently say this won’t be my last retreat.

My fingers throb with fatigue, and exhaustion seeps in as I ride the elevator up to Cameron’s apartment. He insisted I stay here instead of taking a taxi home in the middle of the night. I turn on the lights and look up, and there he is.

I shake my head in disbelief. There’s no way he’s here. But then his flat expression blooms into a warm smile as he sees me.

My Cameron. In his kit. Clutching a bouquet of flowers like a kid with a winning lottery ticket.

“What are you doing here?” I squeak out, practically launching myself into his arms. He wraps me in a bear hug. “You have a game tomorrow morning,” I remind him. “You’re supposed to be three hours away and resting, mister!”

“I know.” He draws me closer and inhales deeply. “I came right after training, and I have to drive back, but I needed to see you on your big day. And do this.” He kisses me, leaving me stunned. My knees go wobbly. My insides soften like a fire-roasted marshmallow as his warmth envelops me.

His eyes twinkle with admiration as he leans in, his lips brushing gently against my forehead, then my lips again.

“I’m so happy to see you,” I murmur, burying my face into his chest.

“How’d it go?” he whispers, his breath tickling my hair. “How do you feel?”

“Probably as good as you’re going to feel when you win your big game tomorrow.”

“Good.” His arms tighten around me. “Daph, I—” He falters, his heart thumping like crazy against his chest. I what? I’m happy to be here? I forgot something in my apartment and had to come back and get it? “I’m super proud of you, and, uh…” His face scrunches up. “I do have to get back soon. I’m so sorry. Coach didn’t love that I’m not riding with the team to the match. If he finds out I broke curfew, I might end up on the bench again.”

He risked that much for me? A shaky smile spreads across my face at the realization. “How long do I have you for?”

He glances at the clock on the television. “Thirty minutes.”

My heart does a little flip-flop, a mix of gratitude and longing. “Well, what should we do?”

“Can we just lie down together? I missed sleeping next to you last night.”

“Not a second to waste, then,” I whisper.

We shuffle to the bedroom and collapse onto the bed in a heap, Cameron pulling me into his arms. I nestle against his chest, feeling the steady, reassuring rhythm of his heartbeat. My exhaustion melts away as he holds me, his presence a balm for my frazzled soul. We lie there in blissful silence, the world outside fading into oblivion, leaving just the two of us in this cocoon of cozy intimacy.

I trace little doodles on his chest, my fingers moving in sync with his breaths. “You really drove all the way here just to see me for a minute?”

He tilts my chin up, his eyes locking onto mine with that heart-melting gaze of his. “No distance is too far for a glimpse of you,” he replies, pressing a tender kiss to my forehead.

We fall into a comfortable silence, our bodies entwined. For thirty precious minutes, it’s just us. No worries, no obligations, just the simple joy of being together.

My heart takes flight, and I’m pretty sure I’m unequivocally, undeniably, up-in-the-air in love with Cameron Hastings.