“Youdid.Oh, my God” She’s laughing.
“My little black dress got my ‘don’t-need-no-man-to-be-happy’ librarian friendlaidin our nation’s capital. Holy hell!”
“Laney—”
“I mean... even Cinderella didn’t get tosleepwith Prince Charming at the ball.”
I don’t respond. I’m suddenly thinking of him, of us.
“So— keep going.”
“It was nice. That’s it. A girl can have a bit of fun every now and then, right?”
“Of course. So, you’re saying I just have to wait until Prince Charming comes around with the glass slipper to learn more?”
“Nobody’s coming around. It wasn’t like that. And besides, don’t forget the real news here: I got the damned grant! This means everything to me. It means I can leave a small footprint in Maplewick when I finally go to France in the fall. It means access and...”
At the mention offall, her voice softens.
“You’re right. And I’m really proud of you. I mean it. I don’t mean to minimize that.”
“I know.” I reassure her.
A beat. Then?—
“Even though I can’tstandthe thought of fall. And you leaving,” she says, her energy draining.
There’s a sharp wail in the background, followed by a crashing sound and what amounts to a toddler war cry.
“Oh shit,” Laney mutters. “I’ve gotta go play referee. Congratulations, girlfriend.”
“Thanks, Lane.”
And then, “But don’t think I’m not coming back for details about your little romp in the hay withyou-know-who…”
“Noted,” I say, smiling as the line goes dead.
SIX
SPENCER
It’s only when I’m on the flight to France—seat belt fastened, phone off, finally disconnected—that my mind starts to settle.
The past week was chaos.
The gala.
The family appreciation picnic.
The board meetings.
Wrapping up the Merritt deal while fielding calls to check boxes with Gina every hour on the hour.
By the time I made it to the airport, I was convinced I’d forgotten something—passport, bike, maybe even my own name.
But now, with the clouds drifting beneath me and the plane humming into stillness, she comes back.
Rhea.
