I blow a soft breath out of my nose.
This is okay.
Bea and Margot are the only two people from my past who would know what I’ve done with my hair recently, and I’m not the only person in the world with fairy tattoos.
“I’m good,” I tell Bea. “Everything’s good.”
“If you need anything?—”
“No. No, I’m good. Totally under control here.”
“Daph?”
“Yeah?”
“Margot sent me a picture of her ex and asked if I’d seen him too.”
I stifle a goodfuck.
Oliver presses his face into my shoulder, and I’m pretty sure he’s doing the same.
“Why do you think she would do that?” I ask Bea.
“There was a partial picture of a man in one of the news stories about…the people giving away money in the Midwest. She sent that to me first. To see if I thought there was a similarity between him and her ex.”
I can’t talk.
Can’t breathe.
Can’t think.
Oliver’s partial picture made the news.
He’s frozen behind me too.
“Oh my god, Daphne,” Bea whispers.
And I can tell by her voice that she knows.
She knows I’m with Oliver.
It’s not like he has any distinctive moles or tattoos or unusual features. To anyone else, he’d be your everyday brown-haired, hazel-eyed, scruffy-jawed guy.
“Bea, everything is okay. I swear,” I tell her when I can make myself talk again.
“This doesn’t sound like the boring guy you described.”
Oliver relaxes a bit as he snorts behind me.
“Um…he can hear you,” I whisper loudly to Bea.
“Well, isn’t this is a delightful plot twist?” Simon says cheerfully.
And Oliver—oh my god.
Oliver laughs harder.
“And it passes the rocking chair test,” Bea says. “Daph, what do you need? Seriously, what can I do? Do you have security with you? Simon’s guys are freaking a little at the idea that you’re doing this without help. And what do you want me to tell Margot? I can call her back for you.”
