When April reached the officiant—Dylan’s agent, Laurel—and turned so she could watch Dylan walk down the aisle with her parents, decked out in a sleek ivory silk suit, she felt steady.
She felt full and happy for her best friend.
She even liked her pink dress, the color making her ink pop.
She loved the music, the lighting, and when Ramona appeared with Mr.Riley, she felt as though her heart might burst.
Ramona was resplendent in a gauzy A-line gown, sleeveless and V-necked, the ivory tulle flowing over appliqué peonies and poppies and anemones. Her bouquet, a larger version of April’s, exploded with the colors featured in her dress, all shades of pink and the pop of minty green from the eucalyptus.
April caught Olive’s eye next to her and winked. Olive was already crying happily, their sweet girl.
The ceremony was lovely and brief, Ramona and Dylan making tearful promises and holding hands. April was determined to focus on the moment, to not let her mind wander, not even let her eye shift to the guests, where her parents sat rigidly on Ramona’s side in shades of beige. Aside from one painful phone call with her father to discuss the lease of her shop’s space—which wasn’t up until next March, and she’d already discussed a small fee for breaking the contract with Leland, the landlord, and how that would be cheaper than paying six more months of rent—she hadn’t spoken to them much since the engagement dinner.
She also didn’t let herself glance at Daphne, who was sitting with Sasha, dressed in a lacy lavender midi dress that fit her perfectly.
Well. Shetriednot to let herself look at Daphne.
She failed. Many times.
Because Daphne was beautiful.
Entrancing.
Glowing.
Since this morning, since Nicola’s decision and everything April and Daphne had talked about, Daphne seemed to have come even more alive. She looked powerful and confident, her curls wild, her shoulders relaxed, her expression serene. April hadnever seen anyone so lovely, and her chest swelled as she caught Daphne’s eye for the tenth time during the ceremony, Daphne smiling softly at her.
Her chest swelled…and then retracted, growing smaller, closing in around her heart. This sequence happened over and over and over. Happiness and pride and sadness, a dizzying mix of emotions.
Everything all at once.
And that was the way it would be for a while, April was sure of it. Because as much as her mind knew that everything Daphne had said in the art studio was right, was true, wasgood, her heart clung to a different story.
A tale of breaking and leaving and, once again, being the one who was left behind.
The reception wasunder an amber-lit silk tent connected to Ramona’s back patio.
April sat alone at a cloth-covered table after a lovely dinner of salmon and asparagus, her bouquet next to her, and snagged a tiny glass of chocolate mousse off the tray of one of the servers, who were ambulating around the space with patisserie-esque desserts. She sipped on her pink lady, freshly made at the open bar and served in a blush-pink glass, and tried to look entertained as Beach Glass, now joined by a full band, played through a collection of originals and classic love songs.
Ramona glided through the tent, gorgeous and smiling, Dylan by her side as though glued.
But, April supposed, that was the point, wasn’t it?
She sighed, took a large gulp of her cocktail.
“My pink ladies are better,” Sasha said, falling into a chair next to April, legs spread. She wore a black suit and a formfittingwhite shirt unbuttoned to her sternum, platinum hair tall and slicked back on the sides.
“How do you know?” April asked, nodding at the glass of club soda in Sasha’s hand.
“I just do,” Sasha said, winking.
April rolled her eyes but smiled before stuffing a spoonful of mousse into her mouth. She groaned. “Is your mousse better?”
“My everything is better.”
“So confident.”
“Only way to be, my darling.”
