A box.
A dark blue velvet box.
It creaked open elegantly, and there, nestled in more blue velvet, sat a ring.
A very big, very shiny ring.
It had a gold band, an oval-shaped bicolor Montana sapphire in the center. It was large, at least two carats if Daphne had to guess. The jewel’s colors were incredible, a little gold and a little blue and a little green. Elena had always said it was the most beautiful gem she’d ever seen, that she wanted one of her own someday, maybe when she got married, a matching set with her wife.
And now she was offering that exact ring to Daphne, her eyes a little shiny, even though Daphne had never seen or heard the woman cry. Not once. Not even when Elena had accidentally bought ghost peppers for a charcuterie board and eaten one whole.
“Elena,” Daphne breathed. Her eyes felt locked on the ring, mesmerized and stunned, like watching a total solar eclipse without glasses.
“I know,” Elena said, her voice trembling. “It’s a lot, but this is what I want. I want to marry you, Daphne Love. And I know it’s what you want too.” She plucked the ring from its cushioned home, then held it out to Daphne.
Daphne felt herself lean forward.
Saw herself reach out and take the ring between her thumb and forefinger, as though observing someone else’s proposal, someone else’s story.
“Please, Daphne,” Elena said, her fingers still on the ring too so the two of them were frozen, the ring locking them together. “Say yes.”
And god, that word—yes—was on the tip of her tongue.
She’d wanted this for so long. Maybe not engagement and marriage specifically, but aperson.
A family.
Someone who was hers, and she was theirs, the first above all else. She suspected most kids felt that sense of priority with their parents or nuclear family, but she never had.
And now, Elena was offering her everything she’d ever wanted.
A real place to belong.
A real family.
Elena pulled the ring back, but only for a second as she took Daphne’s left hand, slipped the ring on her fourth finger.
It fit perfectly.
Daphne held her hand in front of her and stared at the sparkle, the color, her heart pounding as the moment—what it really meant—washed over her again and again. She let it settle in her heart, settle in her bones and blood as she stared at that ring. And she stared and she stared and she stared.
“So?” Elena asked.
And when Daphne finally ripped her gaze from that beautiful stone, locking eyes with the person who wanted to spend their life with Daphne, meeting with that intense brown, that familiar sly smile, she knew exactly how to answer Elena’s question.
Chapter
Twenty-Seven
April didn’t goback to Cloverwild that night.
She didn’t go back the next morning either. It was a Thursday, one day before the wedding, and she lay in bed staring at Daphne’s name in her text messages. April hadn’t heard from her at all—no text, no call, nothing—since she’d walked out of the art room nearly twelve hours ago, leaving Daphne with Elena.
April knew she should text her.
She should grow up, own her emotions, or at least regulate them a little, and find out what the hell happened, but she couldn’t. In her mind, Daphne’s lack of communication was loud and clear, sending a message April wasn’t sure how to process, and she wasn’t ready to have it all confirmed.
So instead, she tapped on Sasha’s name, texting her to make sure Bob and Bianca got fed.
