"I should go. I have a million things to do for the fundraiser anyway."
"You need to rest."
"I'm fine." The words came out sharper than she intended. "I'm always fine, remember? That's what everyone expects. Cheerful, optimistic Annabelle who never complains and never breaks and always has a smile ready."
Raven's expression softened. "That's not what I—"
"I have to go." Annabelle pulled her wrist free and headed for the door. "I'll see you tomorrow. Or whenever. It doesn't matter."
She was halfway out the door when Raven called after her.
"I'm not leaving. Not yet."
Annabelle paused, hand on the doorframe. She wanted to believe it. God, she wanted to believe it so badly.
But wanting something and believing it were two different things.
She looked back at Raven, standing there in the middle of her cottage, looking lost and conflicted and so achingly beautiful that Annabelle's chest hurt.
"Okay," she said softly.
Then she closed her eyes for just a moment, let herself wish it all away, the paparazzi, the fundraiser stress, the impending heartbreak, and reminded herself: if you looked for the brightness, you'd find it.
Raven wasn't leaving. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
Everything would work out fine.
It had to.
"Okay," she said again, and managed something that might have been a smile. "I believe you." And she went back to Raven’s arms.
Because Annabelle Swift was nothing if not an eternal optimist.
Even when optimism felt like the hardest thing in the world.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The village hall smelled like sweat, dust, and slightly like desperation.
Two days. Two bloody days until the fundraiser, and everything looked like it was falling apart.
Gloria was mid-tirade about costume authenticity, her voice echoing off the walls as she gestured wildly at a rack of what appeared to be repurposed curtains. "This is meant to be aperformance, not a jumble sale! These children deserve proper theatrical costumes!"
"They're eight," Arty said mildly from his ladder, where he was attempting to hang stage lights. "They'll be happy if the costumes don't fall off. Most of ‘em would rather be Pokemon."
"That is precisely the attitude that is ruining the arts in this country!"
Raven leaned against the back wall, arms crossed, watching the chaos unfold. She was used to last minute nerves, and this was nothing more than that. But the children were overexcited, running in circles, shrieking with laughter, completely ignoringBlossom's attempts to organize them into lines. Daisy had somehow managed to tangle herself in a rope meant for the backdrop. Nina was frantically searching for the sheet music that had mysteriously vanished.
And Annabelle…
Annabelle looked like she was about three seconds away from a complete breakdown.
Mind you, she’d looked like that for two weeks now, but no matter how often Raven offered to help, she never seemed to want it.
She stood in the center of it all, clipboard clutched to her chest, trying to smile while simultaneously solving seventeen problems at once. Her cardigan was buttoned wrong. There were dark circles under her eyes that even her determinedly cheerful expression couldn't hide. And she kept blinking too much, like she was trying to stay awake on her feet.
Raven sighed.
