Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter
Twenty-Six
Daphne flinched as the art studio door fell shut behind April. Her hands felt sweaty, her entire body trembling as though she were cold, even though it was stifling in here, the air-conditioning programmed to shut off at night.
Elena exhaled loudly. “Well, that was awkward.”
Daphne frowned. “What did you expect?”
“I expected to come here and talk to you, not an ex from three years—”
“Just stop.”
Elena’s expression froze at Daphne’s sharp tone, but then dropped, her features relaxing with realization. “You and April,” she said.
It wasn’t a question, and Daphne didn’t plan on answering it. It was none of Elena’s business, first of all. Secondly, Daphne had no idea what she’d say anyway.
She and April…what?
One thing she did know—April had been upset when she’d left here, and Daphne couldn’t blame her. Daphne wanted to go after her, wanted to hold her and get mad with her.
How dare Elena show up like this and ask to speak to Daphne. How dare Elena do so many things, but still, Daphne’s legs felt locked in place, her heart in her throat, her stomach somewhere near her feet.
Because Elena was here. Even after the hell she’d put Daphne through the last two months, she’d chased Daphne down on her birthday, traveled to Clover Lake, waited for hours in the art studio for her.
For her.
“Daphne,” Elena said, a familiar sweet plea to her tone.
And god, Daphne tried to stop it, but her eyes fluttered closed at that voice, like a whispered declaration of love on a lazy Saturday morning.
“What do you want?” she forced herself to ask.
Elena smiled, that half-smirk curve to her mouth she employed when someone already knew the answer to their question.
“Elena,” Daphne said, shaking her head. “I ca—”
“Hear me out, okay?” Elena asked. “Before you say no, just listen.”
She held out her hand for Daphne to come closer and Daphne moved, bridging the gap between them before she was even aware that her brain had made the decision. A reflex.
Her fingers slid over Elena’s, familiar short nails with their light pink manicure, perfect and shiny and soft.
Elena tangled their fingers together, then walked them both over to the couch, making sure Daphne sat before she did.
They stayed like that for a second, looking at each other, Elena’s eyes roaming all over Daphne’s face.
“I like your hair,” Elena finally said.
Daphne laughed quietly. “You do not.”
“I do too.”
“You hate unconventional hair colors. You said it makes people seem desperate and sycophantic.”
Elena laughed. “You do know me.”
“I do.”
“And I know you,” Elena said, scooting a little closer. Their knees touched, and somehow, Daphne only just noticed that her hand was still in Elena’s.
“I know you dyed your hair because you wanted to feel something after I broke up with you,” Elena went on. “Wanted to experience something different. Wanted to be different.”
Daphne’s throat tightened, her eyes filling almost instantly. She looked down at her jeans, focused on the multicolored paint splatters over the cotton.
“But you don’t need to change, baby,” Elena said softly, pulling Daphne’s hand into her lap, both hands cupping her fingers. “You’re perfect the way you are. And it took me losing you to realize it.”
Daphne shook her head as Elena pressed a kiss to the back of her hand, then ducked her head to try and capture Daphne’s eyes. And she was successful, Daphne’s own gaze latching on and following her like a baby duck imprinting on the first person she saw.
“You do know me,” Elena said again. “And you know that sometimes I need space to understand how I’m feeling. I knew things between us were growing stagnant and we needed to either move forward or stop altogether. And I got scared.”
Daphne closed her eyes, warm tears gathering at her lash line, then falling slowly, methodically, as her memory played back that horrible night Elena had told her it was all over.
The hurt.
The shock.
“I thought you were going to propose to me,” she managed to say, her voice small and pathetic, but she couldn’t help it. She’d felt small and pathetic then, and she felt small and pathetic now remembering it all over again.
“I know, baby,” Elena said, kissing Daphne’s hand again before releasing her.
Daphne kept her eyes closed, needing a minute to breathe, to gather herself. She heard Elena rustle next to her, then scoot closer and say her name.
So softly.
So gently.
Like a prayer, a song.
“Daphne,” Elena said again. “Open your eyes for me.”
Daphne did, the room coming into focus, Elena’s face and her smell and her perfectly husky voice.
“I’m ready now,” she said, then opened something in her hands.
A box.
A dark blue velvet box.
It creaked open elegantly, and there, nestled in more blue velvet, sat a ring.
A very big, very shiny ring.
It had a gold band, an oval-shaped bicolor Montana sapphire in the center.
It was large, at least two carats if Daphne had to guess.
The jewel’s colors were incredible, a little gold and a little blue and a little green.
Elena had always said it was the most beautiful gem she’d ever seen, that she wanted one of her own someday, maybe when she got married, a matching set with her wife.
And now she was offering that exact ring to Daphne, her eyes a little shiny, even though Daphne had never seen or heard the woman cry. Not once. Not even when Elena had accidentally bought ghost peppers for a charcuterie board and eaten one whole.
“Elena,” Daphne breathed. Her eyes felt locked on the ring, mesmerized and stunned, like watching a total solar eclipse without glasses.
“I know,” Elena said, her voice trembling. “It’s a lot, but this is what I want. I want to marry you, Daphne Love. And I know it’s what you want too.” She plucked the ring from its cushioned home, then held it out to Daphne.
Daphne felt herself lean forward.
Saw herself reach out and take the ring between her thumb and forefinger, as though observing someone else’s proposal, someone else’s story.
“Please, Daphne,” Elena said, her fingers still on the ring too so the two of them were frozen, the ring locking them together. “Say yes.”
And god, that word—yes—was on the tip of her tongue.
She’d wanted this for so long. Maybe not engagement and marriage specifically, but a person.
A family.
Someone who was hers, and she was theirs, the first above all else. She suspected most kids felt that sense of priority with their parents or nuclear family, but she never had.
And now, Elena was offering her everything she’d ever wanted.
A real place to belong.
A real family.
Elena pulled the ring back, but only for a second as she took Daphne’s left hand, slipped the ring on her fourth finger.
It fit perfectly.
Daphne held her hand in front of her and stared at the sparkle, the color, her heart pounding as the moment—what it really meant—washed over her again and again. She let it settle in her heart, settle in her bones and blood as she stared at that ring. And she stared and she stared and she stared.
“So?” Elena asked.
And when Daphne finally ripped her gaze from that beautiful stone, locking eyes with the person who wanted to spend their life with Daphne, meeting with that intense brown, that familiar sly smile, she knew exactly how to answer Elena’s question.