“Can’t take credit. I picked that tip up from Michael yesterday,” he said, the curve back on his lips briefly, before it fell again. “Anyway, that’s how I know it’s not going right. Not from watching her. But from watching him.”
Layla swallowed. “How do you mean?”
Griffin shrugged again. “He’s too afraid of losing her to…to even try pressing her. To try really talking to her. He’s watching her like she might disappear. That’s what he’s most afraid of.”
For a wild, inexplicable second, Layla thought about taking two steps toward him. Close enough to reach out and up, to lift the brim of the hat and take the full measure of him, because she couldhearsomething in the way he said this—something honest and hidden and devastating.
“Guys!” Emily’s voice called, saving Layla from herself, and Griffin straightened away from the column immediately, as though he was grateful for the interruption.
Layla did not miss the irony—Emily acting as some kind of intermediary, when that was meant to be Layla’s job.
When that was the promise Layla made.
So as they wandered through the next few gardens, Layla left Griffin to his more natural silence, instead interrupting Emily’s ongoing anxious map-matching—Oh, the Chestnut Room, I wonder why it’s called a room!And this I think is the Saturn Fountain, yes!—with questions to Michael: about his job, about whether he was excited to see his parents later, about when he knew he would propose to Emily.
And eventually, it did seem to have a grounding effect, Emily letting the map fall to her side in one hand, holding Michael’s with her other as he answered Layla, sometimes chiming in with funny asides or additions or loving corrections—You didnotknow on our second date!At one point, the four of them standing idly by the almost comically plain-by-comparison Mirror Pool, Michael and Emily effortlessly tag-teamed a story about getting lost on theirfirst trip together, and the huge roadside argument that ensued, and as Layla watched them, both of them laughing their way through the memory of it, she thought,They’ll make it. This is what a good marriage looks like.
I know, because for a while, I had one.
A sobering thought, but it was easy not to dwell for too long on it, especially when Emily and Michael drifted ahead, his arm draped over her shoulders, his head turning to press a kiss to the top of hers at one point as she laughed in an honest-Emily way.
“Fine,” Griffin said grudgingly from beside her. “That was helpful.”
She clamped her lips together to keep from smiling. “Your contributions were essential.”
He didn’tquitelaugh again. But still. Maybe an indulgent snort at her dig, since his contribution had been complete and total silence during all of it.
“I consider it a moral obligation,” he said.
This time,shelaughed: a cracklingHa!emerging right as they crossed into a new space—another circle paved in fine gravel, this one surrounded not by columns, but by risers—two arcs of bright green hedges cut into curved benches, interrupted in the middle by a grand stone-and-shell sculpture that was clearly intended to be a fountain, bone-dry now. There was, of course, some gold—huge urns punctuating the gray stone, but out here, they weren’t such an eyesore. Layla thought, for a fleeting second, of Willa from the plane—her book about the fae prince. This looked like the sort of place a fae prince would have, a fairy choir commanded to sing for him, lined up on those lush risers.
“Wow,” she said, and for the first time since this outing began, she was not annoyed when Emily lifted her map long enough to look down and say, “This must be the Ballroom Grove!”
Well, fine. An outdoor ballroom made more sense than a fairy choir, but still—still, Layla was happy enough to feel like a moment of whimsy was finally possible, with some of the tension between Emily and Michael now broken. By some magic—notthe fae prince sort, obviously—this particular grove was comparatively uncrowded, a bored-looking guard in a navy polo standing near one of the urns, and only a couple of other flagging spectators, turning in slow circles with their phones raised in front of their faces, looking like they’d come to the sort of sightseeing saturation point that necessitated video evidence of new things.
“You know what we should do,” Layla heard Michael say to Emily, and she looked to see Emily beaming up at him, nodding. A second later, still smiling widely, Emily was shoving her now-crumpled map into her crossbody bag, taking Michael’s outstretched hand and stepping into his arms for a music-less dance, like they were in their own little world.
Layla was glad she and Griffin had still been lagging behind, that they hadn’t crossed too far into the grove. Without thinking, she stepped back farther, toward one of the risers near the grove’s entrance, Griffin following.
“They took lessons,” he said quietly, though she doubted it was necessary for him to mind his volume—Emily and Michael had very likely forgotten they were there, and didn’t even seem to notice that at least one of the video-taking tourists had turned her phone onto them.
“Cute,” Layla replied, also quietly, remembering that she, too, had once taken dance lessons—a gift Manon had given her and Jamie for their engagement, even though they were insistent about wanting a small wedding, with none of the big, fussy traditions.
Every couple should know how to dance!Manon had said, and Layla imagined she said the same to Michael and Emily, whowatched only each other, alternating between shared humor and concentration—knowing they weren’t very good at the steps, but enjoying the project of doing it together anyway.
They’ll make it, she told herself again.
“This way,” she heard from somewhere behind her, a voice from another time, a dance lesson a decade ago, and she stiffened, dread pooling in her stomach.
“Oh, Jamie!” came a gasping exclamation, a happy version of the voice that Layla had mostly heard only in a shamed, strangled way up to now. “This is sopretty!”
“Goddammit,” Griffin muttered from beside her.
“Look who we found!” Jamie’s voice again, closer now, probably on the other side of the stone-and-shell wall that flanked the entrance to the grove. Close, but not yet close enough to see her.
Or the shadow beside her.
She watched as Emily and Michael both turned, stilling in their dance.
