Chapter
Nineteen
April laughed asSasha whirled through Ramona and Dylan’s immaculate kitchen in a plain white tee and black jeans, singing “Les Poissons” fromThe Little Mermaid. She dropped chunks of ripe avocado into a blackberry and arugula salad, then glided Disney princess–style toward the stove to stir the sauce for the spicy peanut noodles.
“You know that song is about fish, right?” April asked.
“I’ve got crab cakes in the oven,” Sasha said.
“Still not a fish.”
“Shellfish.”
Sasha finished the chorus even louder, then grinned before tasting the sauce. “This is heaven.”
April laughed as she cut cucumbers. “The sauce or the kitchen?”
“Both, obviously.”
The space was beautiful, with swirled white-and-gray quartz counters, navy blue cabinets, matte gold fixtures, the largest stove April had ever seen next to a separate double oven, and a white porcelain farmhouse sink the size of April’s bathtub. A stainless-steel Sub-Zero refrigerator held the groceries Dylan had insisted on buying for tonight’s engagement dinner, and a butler’s pantrywas fully stocked with all manner of sundries despite the fact that the Riley-Monroes lived in LA eleven months out of the year.
Riley-Monroe.
Or maybe they’d go with Monroe-Riley, or simply keep their names as they were. She knew Dylan and Ramona would never give up their last names entirely—they needed them professionally. She took a sip of the chilled white wine Dylan had poured for them all when they’d arrived before whisking them off on a tour. April oohed and aahed right along with Daphne and Sasha as they walked through the rooms, all painted different colors, all expertly decorated. April had only ever been in this house once, after all, and that was last summer when Dylan and Ramona had come home for a few weeks, right before Dylan started filming for the Marlene Dietrich biopic, and they’d updated a bit since then.
Of course, the housewasbeautiful. Right on the lake, modern yet comfortable, spacious enough to host friends and family for any occasion, full of light and color and style.
But it wasn’t familiar. It wasn’tRamona, at least not in April’s mind. Since arriving at the house, she’d seen Ramona only once, at the end of the tour when they had gone outside to the expansive patio where they’d be dining. Ramona had been setting up the table, had hugged April tight, and then April had promptly followed Sasha into the kitchen, claiming Sasha needed help with the preparations.
“I probably don’t,” Sasha had said, her voice deadpan, and April had laughed and punched Sasha’s shoulder lightly like the kidder she was.
Now, after Sasha did indeed have to take time out of actual preparations to show April and Daphne how to properly cut vegetables, April hadn’t seen Ramona again. She knew Olive and Mr.Riley would be arriving soon, and she couldn’t wait to see them.
“How long are you going to hide out in my kitchen?” Sashaasked as she hip-bumped April away from the cutting board and finished slicing the cucumbers in a flurry of motion, the knife nothing but a blur.
“I’m not hiding,” April said.
“You’re hiding,” Daphne said without looking up from her task. She was chopping stalks of green onion with such concentration—brows furrowed, fingers curled in on the produce just like Sasha had shown her—that April felt a ridiculous swell of affection.
“I amnothiding,” April repeated. “I’m simply…I’m just…”
“Hiding,” Sasha said, stirring the peanut sauce again, then filling a mint-colored Le Creuset Dutch oven with water for the pasta.
“Helping,” April said, setting a glass container full of raw noodles next to the pot. “Plus, it’s not your kitchen.”
“Am I the cook in this kitchen right now?” Sasha asked.
“Yes, Chef,” April said.
“Then it’s mine.”
April groaned but then caught Daphne’s eye and smiled. She smiled, and her stomach fluttered a little. She smiled, her stomach fluttered a little,andshe flashed back to the way Daphne’s mouth had tasted in the lake, how her hands had felt in April’s hair, how—
“Good god, you two,” Sasha said.
April blinked.
Daphne blinked.
