“Don’t be sorry,” April said. “Have you eaten?”
Daphne lifted her head. “Some toast this morning.”
April tsked. “Well, that won’t do, will it?”
Daphne shrugged.
April slid her hands to Daphne’s face, thumbs swiping at her cheekbones. “Can you take a break? Come somewhere with me?”
Daphne lifted her brows. “Right now?”
April smiled. “Right now.”
“I’ll go anywhere with you, April Evans,” Daphne said, and realized with a flutter in her belly that it was true.
True and terrifying.
She glanced at the woman in her fourth painting again, so lost and wandering, and she didn’t even know it.
She didn’t know anything.
And now, over three years later, Daphne wasn’t sure what exactly had changed. She still felt small, desperate, and alone, and she was so, so tired of feeling like that. She wanted to be strong. Wanted to beherself, happy with her own company, brave enough to shout about her own damn birthday.
Still, she slipped her hand into April’s, reveling in the warmth of her body next to hers, and followed her outside into the lavender twilight.
They ended updriving into town, then walking down Lake Street hand in hand. The light was soft, the sun still hanging low inthe sky, and the fresh air was already helping Daphne’s mood. Suddenly, she was starving.
“I want a cheeseburger,” she said. “And some fries. Oh, and some pie.”
“Oh, yeah?” April said, slowing down as they approached Clover Moon Café. “Your timing couldn’t be better.”
She opened the door, ushering Daphne inside. The space smelled amazing—sugar and fried food and coffee all coalescing together—and Daphne’s mouth watered. She was looking around the busy dining room for an open seat when she spotted Sasha at a booth in the back corner.
Along with Ramona and Dylan.
“Oh, she’s here,” Sasha said to the others.
Daphne frowned. “What is—”
“Happy birthday!” the group called in unison, smiling and waving.
Daphne blinked, those two words cresting over her slowly, like a phrase in a foreign language. As one, the group put on sparkly purple birthday hats and blew on those paper blowers, the honking sound echoing through the restaurant.
April squeezed her hand. “Happy birthday, Daphne.”
She turned to look at April, mouth agape. “How did you…”
“Well, I knew you were a Leo,” April said, grinning. “And the night we dyed your hair, you confirmed it. July twenty-ninth.”
“And you remembered that?” Daphne asked.
April tilted her head. “You’re hard to forget, Love.”
Daphne shook her head, then pulled April in for a kiss, prompting a loud whooping from a few random patrons in the dining room.
“Also,” April said against her mouth. “You’re an Aries rising.”
Daphne blinked, laughing. “How could you possibly know that?”
