Ramona widened her eyes at April—she also thought April’s favorite combo for a shake was revolting—a small smile on her lips. Most likely, Ramona knew something was up, and April felt a wash of relief in Ramona’s presence.
At her best friend’s ability to justknow.
It had felt like so long since anyone just knew anything about April, and while she was trying to get used to a more private and insular life, she’d missed this so much—eyebrows lifted, mouths pursed, feet tapping feet under the table. This nonverbal language she and Ramona had been speaking for nearly twenty-five years.
“I need the bathroom,” April said abruptly. She couldn’t wait any longer. She needed to tell Ramona now—she might burst if she didn’t, or dissolve right there, Daphne’s warm thigh creating a giddy feeling in the center of her chest, growing every second. “Ramona, come with me?”
“Oh,” Ramona said, glancing at Dylan. “Actually, can we order first?”
April frowned but nodded. Of course, she didn’t want to be rude. Didn’t want to hold up the table if they were hungry. Plus, if she ordered now, her desserts might be ready by the time she got back.
She’d text Ramona.
Probably easier to type it all out anyway, then she and Ramona wouldn’t have to waste time with facts. They could go straight toholy shit.
She got her phone out of her pocket and tapped on her messages while Sasha and Dylan talked about the science of making pie crust. April’s fingers hovered over her text thread with Ramona.She’d just started to tap out the naked truth about the kiss when a notification for her email popped into view. She heard a few dings around the dining room at the same time, but didn’t register why until she tapped on the notification—more to clear it than anything—and found herself looking at a Google alert for Ramona. She hadn’t received one of these in several weeks, had mostly forgotten that she’d even set one to begin with.
The alert included a single link to aPopSugararticle. April tapped on the link, and her browser bloomed to life, along with an innocuous headline about Dylan heading east for the summer. But as April scanned the short article, posted just minutes ago according to the byline, everything in her froze.
After wrapping work on the Marlene Dietrich biopic that’s already garnering Oscar buzz in postproduction, Dylan Monroe and her partner, Ramona Riley, set their sights east, back to where it all began. They’ll be summering in Clover Lake, New Hampshire, where the couple originally met as adorable preteens, then again seventeen years later while Dylan filmed the romantic comedyAs If You Didn’t Knowtwo years ago, but sources close to the couple say this isn’t just a vacation. We might soon be hearing the distant chime of wedding bells in a small, intimate ceremony, purportedly at Dylan and Ramona’s private Clover Lake home. Oh, to be a mosquito tangled in Ramona’s tulle skirt on that blessed day. #DylonaForever
April blinked. Then refreshed the page, hoping it would change, disappear, literally melt the phone in her hands. Anything but what she was seeing.
“Apes, what is it?” Ramona asked.
April just swallowed, tears already blooming. This wasn’t how this was supposed to happen. This news. This moment in Ramona’s life. April wasn’t supposed to learn about it through a Google alert. Through a fucking celebrity gossip site, no less. And it certainly wasn’t supposed to be accompanied by a sudden swell of hurt tangled up with secrets and distance. Of course April knew the engagement was coming. Even welcomed it, because Ramona was happy, and April loved Dylan. The announcement was supposed to be joyous and thunderous and followed by April and Olive dragging Ramona out for florescent-colored shots at Four Leaf, the only bar in Clover Lake, while they ogled the ring and let Ramona wax on about the wedding dress she was going to design.
But this…this felt like a punch in the gut.
April swallowed hard, trying to get herself under control before she said anything. The dining room, however, had gone oddly quiet, whispers floating on the air. Patrons looked down at their phones, then shifted their eyes to Ramona and Dylan.
Looked like April wasn’t the only one with a Google alert for Clover Lake’s favorite daughter.
“What the hell is happening right now?” Dylan asked, looking around while everyone glanced at her. But she had to know. She’d been at this too long not to. She released an annoyed breath. “Ah, shit. Babe.”
“What?” Ramona asked, pushing herself up in the booth to look around.
April glanced at Ramona’s left hand pressed against the table for leverage, but her ring finger was bare.
“So where is it?” April asked, her voice shaking. She knew she should shut up. Shut up, and get up, becausethis wasn’t how this was supposed to happen.
“Where’s what?” Ramona asked, settling back into the booth.
“Ramona,” Dylan said, staring down at her own phone now.
Finally, Merrit Connolly, a woman in her sixties who had taught both April and Ramona social studies in middle school, broke the spell. She lifted her milkshake into the air, calling out to Ramona and Dylan from her table with her husband, Dale, by the window. “Congratulations, you two!”
A chorus of well-wishes echoed through the room, glasses lifted in cheers. Dylan waved demurely, but Ramona was staring at April, a stricken expression on her face. “Apes.”
“Didn’t Dylan get you a ring?” April asked. For some reason, that was all she could think about, all she could focus on. This secret ring Ramona had had for who knew how many days already, the ring she wasn’t wearing specifically so April wouldn’t see it, most likely vintage and beautiful and unique, just like Ramona.
Daphne and Sasha were awkwardly silent, but Daphne set a hand on April’s leg, and that single, gentle touch forced air into April’s tight lungs. She grabbed Daphne’s hand, tangling their fingers together, and Daphne let her hold on as tight as she needed.
Because Ramona was getting married.
Married.
To the love of her life.
