Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter
Twenty-Seven
April didn’t go back to Cloverwild that night.
She didn’t go back the next morning either.
It was a Thursday, one day before the wedding, and she lay in bed staring at Daphne’s name in her text messages.
April hadn’t heard from her at all—no text, no call, nothing—since she’d walked out of the art room nearly twelve hours ago, leaving Daphne with Elena.
April knew she should text her.
She should grow up, own her emotions, or at least regulate them a little, and find out what the hell happened, but she couldn’t. In her mind, Daphne’s lack of communication was loud and clear, sending a message April wasn’t sure how to process, and she wasn’t ready to have it all confirmed.
So instead, she tapped on Sasha’s name, texting her to make sure Bob and Bianca got fed.
Why can’t you feed them? Sasha texted back. Is everything ok?
April groaned. I’m at Ramona’s.
And?
April groaned louder. AND I’ve got her wedding shower today.
Sasha: This wouldn’t have anything to do with one Elena Watson showing up at Cloverwild yesterday, would it?
April: How did you even know about that?
She held her breath, wondering if maybe Daphne had reached out to Sasha to talk or for advice, or asked Sasha to make her a grilled cheese; hell, April didn’t know. Anything to prove Daphne wasn’t with Elena right now.
Sasha: Mia remembers her from back in your day
April: Back in my day? What am I, eighty-two?
Sasha: Also everyone is thriving on the gossip
April: It’s a small town. It runs on gossip
Sasha: Do you want to know what I think?
April: I really don’t
Sasha: Daphne wants YOU
April’s teeth gritted together. She stared at the words, and a war broke out in her chest—hope and fear and doubt and certainty, and everything in between. She tapped on her previous text to Sasha, then emphasized it with two exclamation points.
Sasha: Fine. But I’m right
April: Can you check on Bob and Bianca please?
Sasha: On my way there now
April managed to type out a quick thank-you before burrowing under the feather duvet.
It was nearly eleven, and April could hear activity throughout the house as Blair Emmanuel and a few more LA friends arrived for a brunch–slash–wedding shower that Blair and Olive had planned together, which started in exactly half an hour.
Then later this evening, they’d all gather again for the rehearsal dinner, followed by the wedding tomorrow night.
Ramona’s wedding.
April pulled the covers completely over her head.
She and Ramona were good—they were different, they were changing, but they’d be okay. She knew that. And she fully planned on pulling up her adulting panties and putting all of her enthusiasm and love into this wedding weekend, but god, she needed ten more minutes to get her shit together.
To push Daphne and Elena far, far, far from her mind.
Okay, maybe fifteen.
She pulled her phone under the covers with her and opened her music app, tapping on her favorite Paramore song to listen to when she was feeling particularly angsty.
Then she opened the tarot app that she only used when she was too lazy to pull a physical card, tapped on the shuffle button, and asked What the fuck as the digital cards spun on the screen, finally stopping and revealing the Eight of Cups.
The card all about turning away from the past, from what’s not working or serving anymore, and embracing the unknown.
“Oh, fuck you,” she said, flung her phone onto the floor, and burrowed even deeper under the blankets. She wasn’t sure how many of her designated minutes passed, but soon a knock sounded on the door.
“Yeah,” she said as loudly as she could manage.
The door opened, the noises from downstairs burgeoning a little before muffling again as the door clicked shut.
“Uh-oh,” Ramona said.
“What?” April asked, still completely cocooned.
“Well, you’re burrowing and Paramore’s ‘26’ is playing on repeat, so I’d say things are grim.”
“Well, Paramore feeds my brooding soul,” April said. The mattress dipped as Ramona sat down and placed a hand on April’s butt.
“That’s my ass,” April said.
“Good,” Ramona said, then slapped it hard enough to make April yelp. “Can you come up for air for a second?”
Hayley Williams continued to croon sadly about reality and heartbreak.
April took a deep breath and slowly curled the blanket down to reveal her eyes only.
Ramona smiled softly at her, dressed in a coral-colored sundress with a cinched bodice and tiny cherries printed all over the skirt.
Her hair was down and cascading over her shoulders, and April realized how long it had gotten.
“You look so pretty,” she said.
Ramona smiled wider. “Thank you.”
“All of my clothes are at the cabin,” April said, wincing. “Including the wide-legged pants I was going to wear to this shower.”
Ramona waved a hand. “You can borrow something of Dylan’s.”
“Dylan is eight feet tall.”
“I think I would’ve noticed if that were true.”
April laughed. “My point stands.”
“We’ll find something that works,” Ramona said.
“You’re not worried your weird childhood BFF is going to embarrass you in front of your Hollywood friends?”
Ramona shrugged. “Actually, I’m counting on you to make me seem way cooler than I am.”
“I can start talking about auras and the alignment of the planets if you want.”
“Oh, please do. Then ask about everyone’s moon sign and read their horoscopes while we eat the tiny food Blair is having catered.”
“Only if the horoscopes are really dark.”
Ramona laughed, then her expression grew serious. “Tomorrow’s the big day, right?”
April’s chest tightened. Tomorrow was Ramona and Dylan’s wedding, but more relevant to April’s future and entire existence, tomorrow was decision time.
At nine a.m., April and Daphne would stand quietly while Nicola analyzed their pieces for the Devon in the art room, then decided who she was taking to London.
April viewed the event as though she was underwater—it felt blurry and unformed, lacking oxygen and light.
And she wasn’t sure what awaited her on the surface.
“It is,” April said.
Ramona nodded, then tilted her head, eyes narrowing a little. “She hasn’t called?”
April pressed her lips flat in answer.
Ramona sighed. “That doesn’t mean anything. It just means—”
“That Daphne Love has now left me for Elena Watson, bringing us full fucking circle.”
Ramona squeezed April’s thigh. “I was going to say it doesn’t mean that. At all. Daphne’s been through a lot the past few months. She’s probably just—”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” April said, sitting up and sending both of her hands through her hair. “Not because I don’t want to talk to you. I just can’t deal with this right now. And it’s your day. Your weekend. I really want to be present.”
Ramona nodded, then took April’s hand. “I know all of this—the engagement, the wedding, everything—isn’t exactly how you envisioned it. It’s not even how I envisioned it.”
April’s throat felt a little achy. “But you’re happy.”
Ramona smiled. “I really am. And I want you with me in that happiness. Even if it’s different from what we always dreamed or planned.”
April squeezed her hand. “I’m with you,” she said, and meant it. “Always. A hundred percent. Even with this stuffy wedding shower that Olive and Blair have been very bossy about.”
Ramona laughed. “That’s fair.”
April pulled Ramona into her arms, and they held each other for a few seconds before April smacked a kiss to the top of her head.
“Now, before I submit fully,” April said as she released Ramona, “I do require one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“You know.”
Ramona’s shoulders slumped. “Apes.”
“Come on, come on. We need to commemorate your last single day with Llama Face. It’s the proper thing to do.”
Ramona groaned, but a smile played on her mouth, and April knew she had her.
Ramona hooked her thumb under her top lip, her forefinger into her bottom, and then pulled them both outward, tongue rigid and sticking out as she made the funniest, most terrifying bleating sound in the history of all animal noises.
April cracked up, as she always did.
Ramona dropped her hands and wiggled her lips as though stretching them out.
“There,” she said. “Did that ready you to face the day?”
“You know what?” April said, throwing the covers back and standing up, placing her fists on her hips like a superhero. She puffed out her chest and pushed Daphne and the Devon into the back of her mind so she could focus on her best friend. “It really, really did.”