And she thought about April a lot. In fact, she was pretty sure all those thoughts were why she couldn’t seem to figure out her fifth piece. She also suspected that Nicola was here an hour past sunrise for that very reason.
“I’m concerned,” Nicola said.
Daphne sighed quietly, then joined Nicola at her fifth piece.
Her very unformed, very blank-canvas fifth piece.
“I’ll figure it out,” Daphne said. “I promise.”
“I have no doubt about that,” Nicola said, turning to look at her. “I’m concerned about timing. You have less than three weeks until the pieces for the show need to be matted and framed. October will be here before you know it.”
Daphne pressed her hand to her stomach, which had knotted uncomfortably. “I know.”
Nicola eyed her for a second before sighing. “I know this is very personal.” She waved her hand toward Daphne’s series. “But it’s also professional. Do you understand?”
“I do. I promise,” Daphne said, nodding vigorously. “I have a plan all worked out.”
Nicola’s brows lifted. “That’s encouraging. I’ll leave you to it, then.”
“Thank you,” Daphne said. “I won’t let you down.”
Nicola smiled. “I’m counting on it.”
Then she left, her heels clicking across the wooden floors like tap shoes. Daphne stood for a few seconds in the silence, breathing heavily and glaring at her empty canvas. Finally, she took out her phone and tapped on her text thread with April. Her thumb hovered over the message window, her stomach even more of a mess now, but then she switched over to a different thread before she could think too much about it.
I’m panicking, she typed.
Three little bubbles popped up immediately, and she exhaled, glad Sasha wasn’t in the middle of driving or sleeping, as Daphne had no idea what time zone Sasha was in right now.
Sasha:Still blank?
Daphne:Smooth brain, no wrinkles
Her phone vibrated as Sasha’s profile picture—her face with her tongue poking through her first two fingers—popped up on her screen. Daphne slid her thumb over the phone to answer the video call.
“What are you doing?” she whisper-hissed.
“Calm down,” Sasha said, clearly cocooned in the bed of some roadside motel. Her platinum hair was impossibly tall and messy, her short cut a little longer than the last time Daphne had seen her. “We got separate rooms tonight because April has a cold and this motel didn’t have anything with two beds available.”
Daphne frowned, her chest hitching a little. “Is she okay?”
“She’s fine. No fever or anything, just sniffly.”
Daphne’s shoulders loosened, but she still hated the idea of April being sick and her not being there to help—
She squeezed her eyes closed, then shook her head and smiled.
“You’re ridiculous,” Sasha said.
“Gee, thanks,” Daphne said.
Sasha just laughed. “You know what I’m talking about.”
“Look,” Daphne said, sighing heavily. “Am I in love with April?”
“Rhetorical question, I assume,” said Sasha, “as the wordsmadlyanddeeplycome to mind.”
“But am I going to do anything about it right now?” Daphne pressed on.
