The space between her brows puckers, but she remains silent.
“I ended up playing poker to support us. I survived sixteen years by pushing my luck. Always running. Changing our names. I tried my best to give Arden a normal American life, but never think it was better than what you have here, Pen. You have love. You have a family. Who wouldn’t want that?”
She reaches for the bottle at the end of our table and refills our glasses. “Well then, I’d like to propose a toast.” I raise my glass and return her smile. “To being happy with what we have but open to new beginnings.”
We both drink.
“Maybe now that you’ve returned, the promise of love and family is back on the table for you,” she says through a smile.
I chuckle. “I think that ship has sailed.”
“Bull pucky. There are plenty of single pixies in this town who would sell their best shirt for a chance at a gorgeous woman like you.”
“Along with the chance to raise a half-human daughter?”
Her smile fades a little. “If they’re worth their salt.”
“Meh, I’ve already found my one true love.”
“Oh?” She raises her eyebrows and leans in as if I’m about to share some luscious gossip. “Please don’t tell me it’s a leprechaun. I’ve never trusted them, not for a day. The looks, the charm, the wealth? Can you imagine being married to that?”
I laugh. “Not that I disagree, but you’re not making a great case against them.”
“Oh yes I am. It would be all about them. You’d be a moon in their orbit. Who would ever seeyou, lost in the shadow of their shiny existence?”
“Yeah, I guess it would be like being with a Hollywood celebrity or something.”
“So reassure me that the center of your affection isn’t a leprechaun.” She holds up a finger. “And, fair warning, if you tell me it’s Seven, I’m hauling you straight to the psych ward.”
I shake my head. “No, not a leprechaun and definitely not Seven.” I hate the way I have to look away when I say that. “It’s Arden.” I smile. “She takes up every inch of space in my heart. I don’t think there’s room for anyone else.”
Penelope sighs. “Makes sense. For now.” She grins. “Speaking of Arden, I don’t suppose she’d consider babysitting for a pixie mom who badly needs a date night?”
I play with my hair and sip my wine. “I’ll ask her. I think she’d like that.”
“Sophia?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m glad you’re back,” Pen says. “You are a breath of fresh air.”
I look at her, really look at her atop her butterfly, and I get it. She needs a friend as much as I do. “Me too.”
ChapterThirteen
The best luck of all is the luck you make for yourself. —Douglas MacArthur
After sunset, I make my way down to the beach where River already has a bonfire blazing. A group of satyrs and pixies have gathered on logs around the fire. I wonder if I’ll recognize more of them once I’m closer. It’s been a long time. People change. I wonder how much I’ve changed and if they’ll recognize me.
A shirtless satyr with a neatly trimmed rack of antlers and low-slung cargo shorts stands and lifts a ukulele into his arms. Voices call out song requests, and soon cheerful music fills the night. By the time I sit down on a log beside River, I’m already smiling.
“Is that Patrick?” I ask, remembering the class clown who used to keep us all in stitches.
“The one and only.” He wraps an arm around my shoulders and pulls me into a one-armed hug. “He’s on the Dragonfly building crew now but never lost his talent for music.” River gives me a smile that lights up the night, then goes on to introduce me to the others. I remember five of the seven, although I wasn’t close to any of them. Still, they smile warmly—some of them drunkenly—and I feel more accepted than I ever thought possible.
“Thank you for inviting me,” I tell him. “I needed this.”
His hand lands on my thigh and squeezes. “No one holds any of that crap against you, Sophia. Well, none of us anyway. Just stay away from the fuckhead leprechauns.”
