Chapter Five #2
“For what?”
“I have an exhibition that’s going to run for three weeks in October called Evolution,” Nicola went on. “Full transparency, it’s the first of its kind I’ve ever curated completely independently, so I have a lot riding on this.”
April could only stare at her, because honestly, she couldn’t think why Nicola would be telling her any of this, or why any of this meant fortuitous timing.
Unless…
“I thought of you,” Nicola said.
April’s whole body froze. “Me.”
“You,” Nicola said. “Like I said, I’ve never forgotten my experience with you. When my husband suggested we spend the summer in Clover Lake, it felt like a sign.”
“A sign,” April echoed.
“You believe in those, right?” Nicola asked. “If I remember correctly. The stars and such.”
April opened her mouth but closed it again. Her brain felt suddenly fuzzy, packed to the brim with ideas and what-ifs.
And doubts. A lot of doubts.
“But I’m a tattoo artist,” April finally said. “I’m not—”
“You’re an illustrator. Correct?”
April swallowed hard. “Yes. But…” She trailed off, unsure of how to finish that sentence.
She was an illustrator. She was an artist. And she was a damn good one.
Once upon a time, she knew that. It wasn’t that she thought tattooing was a lesser art—it certainly wasn’t—but somewhere along the line, between struggling to keep her shop open for the last two years and feeling perpetually stuck, she might have forgotten exactly who she was. Just a little.
“I am,” she said firmly.
Nicola nodded once. “Good. Do you think you could put some pieces together over the next several weeks? I’d love to see what you come up with. Of course, I can’t promise a place in the exhibition, but I can promise serious consideration.”
April blinked at her. “In the…in your… at the Devon?”
Nicola smiled beatifically. “See you in class, April.”
April continued to gawp at her as she wandered off, sliding her hand through the arm of a tall Black man in an impeccable gray suit, who handed her a fresh glass of champagne. They ambled into the crowd and disappeared, but April still couldn’t pull her eyes away.
Couldn’t breathe.
She finally managed to blink, the room and the party’s noise coming back into focus.
The Devon.
The Devon.
One of the most prestigious contemporary art museums in the world, and she might…
Nicola was…
It was possible that…
April wiped a hand down her face as the last ten minutes settled into her blood. She needed air. She needed air and a good pinch on the arm, and—
No.
What she really needed was a great idea.
April walked quickly through the front doors and outside.
She immediately breathed a little easier, the cool evening air a balm to her overheated skin.
The sun had just set, a lavender twilight glow quickly darkening to a comforting black.
The sky was cloudless, the moon a shining crescent.
A few guests were about, drinks in their hands.
April headed toward the pier, her mind ablaze.
Lanterns lit the path from the firepit on the stone patio toward the water, making everything glow gold.
The path blossomed out onto a larger rectangular area bordered by a wire-and-wood barrier keeping people safe from toppling into the water.
A few small blue chairs were set around the space, but right now, the pier was empty.
April reached the edge and pressed herself against the barrier, leaning over a bit to stare down into the deep green water growing darker by the second as evening faded into night.
She tried to catch her breath, but it kept coming faster.
Ramona, Nicola, Elena, Daphne, the Devon—it all swirled in the center of her chest, wild and untamed.
Maybe a tumble into the lake would shock her into thinking straight.
Normally, she’d consider it. She’d always been up for lake shenanigans as a kid—as a teen, as an adult, the wilder the better as long as she was safe—but she was at her place of business, potential art class guests milling about.
Standing on the railing in her fancy outfit and cannonballing into Clover Lake was probably not the greatest idea.
So she simply dreamed.
Seemed about all she was capable of these days.
Except…
The Devon.
It was real. Right there. Not just a dream, but actually possible.
Honestly, showing her work in a museum’s exhibition was never even something she’d fantasized about.
In college, she’d studied a lot of different styles and mediums for illustration, enjoyed the museums and galleries she’d visited for classes, but she could never quite picture herself in one—her work, her creations on the wall.
Then again, she’d always planned to come back to Clover Lake after college.
She loved her town, and Ramona had moved back after her first year.
April didn’t regret any of that, her time with Ramona and Olive, her time with Wonderlust. But she was curious about what else was out there.
A normal dream, she supposed, but now…now she had to do more than dream about what she wanted.
She had to actually figure it out.
“April?”
Her head shot up, eyes landing on Daphne Love.
She groaned inwardly.
“Look, I’m sorry, but I’m really not in the mood,” she said. She knew her tone was harsher than Daphne deserved, but her brain could not take one more thing right now. She wanted to simply stand here, look out at the water, and dream.
Still, Daphne flinched slightly, her nostrils flaring a little.
She wore a backless gray dress with a halter neck, the material thin and silky and hugging her thighs.
Her hair was in a knot at the back of her neck, the sides brushed slick and straight against her head, an elegant part down the middle.
She wasn’t beautiful at all. Nope. Not one damn bit.
April looked away, eyes back on the water.
“I saw you walk down here,” Daphne said evenly. “You looked like you had a lot on your mind.”
April said nothing. Just stared out at the water.
“And I am a decent human being,” Daphne went on, “so I check on people when they seem overwhelmed.”
Oh, that was fucking rich.
“You are a decent human being?” April asked. She turned to face Daphne, one elbow leaning on the railing.
Daphne’s jaw went tight, arms rigid at her sides. And fine, yes, April had to admit it—the less decent human being side of her was getting a very small kick out of seeing this woman get angry. It was much better than all the tears, that was for damn sure.
“Listen,” April said, tilting her head. “I realize you’re probably used to batting those baby greens at whoever the fuck and getting anything your little country heart desires, but that’s not going to fly with me.”
Daphne’s face went red then, and her eyes widened, the whites nearly fluorescent in the dim evening light.
Her hands were closed fists, her mouth nothing but a tight bud.
She looked so akin to a cartoon character with steam coming out of her ears, April wanted to laugh, but she was pretty sure that would be a touch over the line.
April knew she was being a dick.
But for the life of her, she couldn’t figure out how to not be one when it came to Daphne, and honestly didn’t care to put forth the effort.
“That’s it,” Daphne said, bouncing on her feet a little, a tiny volcano about to blow.
“What’s it?” April asked, feigning boredom.
“You,” Daphne said, waving her hand between them. “This toxic, I’m a big bad Goth bitch vibe you’ve got going on.”
April smiled like…well, like a big bad Goth bitch. “I’m going to get that on my tombstone.”
Daphne grunted in frustration, and April did laugh then, which only made Daphne’s lovely face deepen into a darker shade of crimson.
“I’m going to head in,” April said, pushing her arm off the railing and starting to turn back toward the lodge. “Feel free to stay out of the cabin until I’m asleep.”
“Oh no you don’t,” Daphne said, then hooked her arm through April’s, stopping her from moving.
April flicked her gaze down to where their elbows linked, then back up to Daphne’s face. “What are you doing?”
“We’re going to settle this,” Daphne said.
“Settle what?”
“Whatever your problem is with me.” Daphne started pulling her toward the wooden stairs that led down to the dock.
“Are you going to throw me into the lake?” April asked, letting Daphne tug her along. Honestly, she was curious if this Tennessee waif had it in her.
“If only,” Daphne said as they stepped off the last stair and onto the dock. Several canoes bobbed in the water, and Daphne approached the closest one, a deep green vessel with a bright yellow paddle. She released April, then motioned toward the boat. “Get in.”
April lifted her brows. “Get in? Just like that? You could be planning to murder me.”
“You’d deserve it.”
April flinched. “I’d deserve it?”
“Have you been here for the way you’ve treated me the last two days?” Daphne’s voice was nearly a screech. “For no reason.”
“I have reasons,” April said. “Many.”
Daphne literally stomped her foot. If April wasn’t such a dizzying mix of frustrated and intrigued right now, she’d smile and comment on how cute it was.
But no. Goddammit, Daphne Love was anything but cute.
“Get in,” Daphne said. “We figure this out now, because I’ve had the worst spring of my life, I need this job, and I cannot spend the summer terrified my partner is casting spells to bring about my demise while I sleep.”
“You said I was Goth, not a witch.”
Daphne just pointed to the boat.
April blew out a breath, too tired to fight her on this anymore. And she had a point—they did have to work together. April understood that she was still in a bit of shock from meeting Daphne, a person she’d never expected to lay eyes on in real life.
Ever.
But this was the reality of the situation, and maybe a bit of exposure therapy would help her lower that scorpion stinger a little.