“Apes,” Ramona said, hurrying toward her. She wore a pink tee that saidFeed the Birdsover a sketch of St. Paul’s Cathedral inside a snow globe, tucked into a pleated gray skirt. She looped her arm through April’s. “I’m sorry.”
“For what,” April said, her voice unintentionally deadpan.
“I didn’t realize Dad had invited them. He said it happened so fast and it was awkward, and then it slipped his mind until they—”
April untangled her arm from Ramona’s, holding up her hand to stop her best friend from talking. Because even though she knew this wasn’t Ramona’s fault—wasn’t even Mr.Riley’s fault—she didn’t want to hear excuses.
“I need a sec,” April said quietly, then turned and headed down the stone steps and along the path leading from the patio to the dock, the lake sparkling a deep purple in front of her. She walked fast, not slowing down until her boots clomped onto the wooden dock. There wasn’t a railing, just a flat plane of wood, a canoe bobbing in the water. She sat down, letting her legs dangle over the edge.
Then she breathed.
Or tried to, but her body was still trying to cry, her throat tight and achy, her eyes stinging. She’d just bitten back the worst of it, finally gotten her chest to loosen up a little, when she heard footsteps behind her.
She groaned inwardly. “Mona, I said I needed a minute.”
“It’s me.”
April looked over her shoulder to see Daphne walking down the pier toward the dock, her sundress swinging around her thighs. Honestly, it looked like something a true country girl would wear in the summer—tiny pink, blue, and yellow flowers covering the cotton, the hem teasing above her knee, the fluttery short sleeves showing off her pale arms.
And those damn buttons trailing down the front, like a tiny path leading—
April turned back toward the lake, focused on the water. “Hi,” she said. She felt Daphne sit next to her, their shoulders brushing lightly.
“You okay?” Daphne asked.
April watched the water undulate with a stronger-than-normal breeze, morphing from purple to black as the sun disappeared. Solar-powered lights clicked on around the dock, filling the space with a warmer glow.
I’m finewas on the tip of her tongue. She was fine about Ramona’s engagement, and she was fine about her shop closing, about Trudy and her brood living in her house, about her parents’ lack of care, about the uncertainty of the Devon.
But right now, she didn’t want to be fine.
She wanted to be real.
“I don’t know,” she said.
Daphne took a deep breath, her arm settling heavier against April’s as she exhaled.
“Your parents seem…” Daphne started, but then stopped, her mouth open, her brow furrowed.
“Like assholes,” April said. “Those are the words I believe you’re looking for.”
Daphne laughed. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. They are. Not your fault.”
“I get it,” Daphne said. “Having parents who don’t quite get you. When I was eleven, we read this story in school about fairies, and I remember wondering if I was a changeling.”
“Really?” April asked.
Daphne nodded, waving her hand at the lake. “The real Daphne Love—the straight, devout, smooth-haired girl her parents really wanted—was out there somewhere, frolicking in the Unseelie Court while the Daphne in Crestwater, Tennessee, wreaked havoc upon her family.”
Daphne’s glassy eyes were focused on the water, her thoughts far away. Shame flared in April’s chest. Here she was sulking at her best friend’s lakeside mansion about how Mommy and Daddy didn’t love her. They let her go to RISD. They sent her money when her job didn’t cover all her expenses. They helped her start up Wonderlust Ink. She’d had everything she’d ever needed, while Daphne literally ran away from home and pulled herself into adulthood all alone.
“I’m sorry,” April said. “I shouldn’t complain, I know.”
Daphne’s expression cleared, and she looked at April. “Why not?”
April sighed, picked up a small pebble on the dock and tossed it into the water, where it landed with a delicate splash, then disappeared into the darkness.
