Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter
Thirty-Three
Half an hour later, April paced in one of Jack and Carrie’s many guest rooms, chewing on her thumbnail.
The room was calming and beachy with light blue walls, a queen-size bed framed by drapey silks from a custom headboard and covered in blue and cream linens, and a rattan swing chair secured to the ceiling.
“What are you going to do?” Ramona asked. She sat on the edge of the bed with April’s phone, staring down at Daphne’s paintings.
“I have no idea,” April said, throwing herself into the swing chair and causing it to sway like a pendulum. “What the hell can I do?”
“You could call her,” Ramona said.
“I can’t call her,” April said, launching herself out of the chair and ambulating the room again.
Her heartbeat felt like it was everywhere, the reality of that sixth painting pressing heavier and heavier on her ribs with each second.
“What would I say? ‘Oh, hey, Daph, um, nice painting, do you like me, check yes or no.’ ”
Ramona grinned. “Well…yeah.”
“I can’t think about this right now,” April said. She flopped onto the bed this time, sending a few throw pillows flying. She propped herself up on one elbow. “How’s married life? How’s work?”
Ramona laughed. “Oh, no, we FaceTimed for an hour two days ago, so you know exactly how those things are going.”
“Blissful. Dream come true,” April said drolly, but she was smiling.
“Yes,” Ramona said, lifting her chin. “But we’re not talking about me right now. We’re talking about you and the fact that the woman you love put you in a painting that just made her career.”
April groaned, letting her head fall onto the remaining pillows. She felt the mattress shift as Ramona scooted closer, lying down and wrapping her arm over April’s stomach.
“I know you’re being a moody little Scorpio right now,” Ramona said, “but take a breath.”
“Spoken like a true Libra,” April deadpanned, but she did as Ramona instructed. She breathed. And then breathed a little more, deep inhales and exhales, and soon, she and Ramona were breathing together in tandem, then laughing when they both started to feel dizzy.
“Fine,” April said when their lungs and brains had returned to normal functioning. She turned to look at her best friend. “Breathing done. Now what?”
Ramona smiled softly. “Anything you want.”
Such a simple phrase—three words, five syllables, but April felt each and every one in the center of her chest.
“Anything I want,” she said.
Ramona nodded, then kissed April on the cheek before getting off the bed.
“I’ve got to go get dressed for this thing.
” She jutted her thumb toward the window, the light outside turning a blue-lavender as evening barreled toward them.
April could hear the dull thrum of people setting up for the party in the large backyard.
“Please tell me you and Dylan have matching costumes,” April said, remaining prone in the pillows.
“Naturally,” Ramona said, then tossed April’s phone next to her on the mattress. “You know what to do with that.”
“Watch cat videos until I forget my own name?”
Ramona laughed, then closed the door after her as she left the room.
April blew out a breath and stared up at the rattan fan spinning in slow circles. Next to her, her phone felt warm and heavy, like an entire other person was pressed against her side.
Before she could think twice, she grabbed it and tapped on Daphne’s name in her messages. She scanned their thread, three months of casual conversation, check-ins, dancing around how April still felt about her.
How Daphne still felt.
April tapped on the message window, a simple question swirling in her brain. Her heart picked up its pace, fingers shaking as excitement and fear coalesced in her chest.
Still, she wanted to say it.
To ask.
She had to know, so her thumbs flew, typing out her question.
Do you still love me? Check yes or no.
Then she hit send.
Two hours later, the sun had set, and April wandered around alone at a party that could rival one of Gatsby’s soirees, sipping on a glass of golden champagne.
She hadn’t seen Ramona or Dylan since they’d all walked outside together over an hour ago—Ramona dressed in an elaborate Mardi Gras–esque gown and Dylan in a complementing silk suit that Liberace would envy—but at least April looked incredible.
It had taken her nearly two months of sifting through racks in thrift stores all over the country, but she’d finally found the perfect costume for tonight in a tiny shop in Santa Fe.
It was black, all lace and sharp shoulders, with lacy leggings underneath a mesh overlay, a lacy bodice that crawled up her neck, bulbed sleeves, and a matching lace mask that covered her entire face from the cheekbones up.
It was a little itchy, but she felt like a Victorian femme fatale.
All she needed was a whip and a glass of absinthe.
There had to be at least two hundred people here, all of them masked, and the entire back of Jack and Carrie’s property was lit with golden lights and filled with partygoers, flowers, streamers, and music.
April spotted Sasha by the buffet table—dressed in the fuchsia suit April had insisted she purchase at the same Santa Fe shop—and chatting with a woman with long red hair.
Of course, chatting may have been a bit of an understatement, as Sasha leaned in close and the woman smiled, eyes glittering beneath her mask at Sasha’s charm.
April laughed to herself and walked to the edge of the property to get a little quiet, a little perspective, stopping at a stone barrier that overlooked the deep cuts and ridges of Laurel Canyon.
Far beyond, April knew the Pacific was probably visible, but it was too dark to see right now, the stars above sparkling softly.
She took her phone out of a tiny pocket hidden near her waist, glanced at the screen quickly before stuffing it out of sight again.
Nothing from Daphne.
Granted, April had sent the message at nearly one a.m. London time, so there was absolutely no reason to feel the need to fling herself into the canyon.
Metaphorically, of course.
And yet.
She sighed, knocking back the last of her champagne before turning back toward the house to go fetch another, but stopped short when another person blocked her path.
They were about ten feet away, and wore an ornate grass green dress, all lace and silk, every part of their body hugged tightly and covered. Their mask was shaped like a butterfly, hair piled on top of their head in an elegant mess, the color indiscernible in the evening light.
“God,” April said, startling and holding her stomach. “Warn a girl, will you?”
“Sorry,” the person said, their green-painted lips curling into a smile, their head tilting.
And April’s breath caught.
It caught, tangled, stopped, left her body altogether, because even with that two-syllable word, she knew that voice. She knew that head tilt too. Knew that mouth that was smiling slyly at her right now.
Her own mouth dropped open, and she stepped back a little from the shock of it all. The impossibility.
The person stepped closer though. Closer and closer, April moving backward on instinct until her butt hit the stone wall. The person’s hands went to her waist, and April’s fingers gripped their lace-covered elbows, faces leaning close, a breath apart.
“Yes,” Daphne said. “I check yes.”
April laughed, then ripped off her mask before taking Daphne’s off a bit more gently. Her eyes were lovely, rimmed with a sparkly green paint and long black lashes.
And they were fixed on April.
“What the hell are you doing here?” April asked, her hands back on Daphne’s arms, fingers tightening as though Daphne might vanish at any second, an apparition on the wind.
“I’m here for you,” Daphne said.
April closed her eyes for a second, letting those words soak through her skin, her bones, straight to the center of her chest. “Really?”
“Really,” Daphne said, her arms circling April’s waist now, pulling her closer.
“Why?” April asked, even though she already felt like water in Daphne’s hands. She still needed to know.
Daphne was silent for a beat, her eyes searching April’s. Finally, she sighed, her arms even tighter around April. “Because I spent three months getting to know myself. Living by myself. Working by myself. Every single choice was my own, every single action was only what I wanted to do.”
“Sounds like bliss.”
Daphne smiled softly. “It was. And it wasn’t.”
April said nothing, but her lungs felt frozen, her heartbeats, even her blood flow.
“I needed that time,” Daphne said. “I needed it for me, but I needed it for you too.”
“For me?”
Daphne leaned her forehead against April’s. “I needed the time alone to realize I don’t want to be alone. But more than that, I needed the time alone to realize that it wasn’t even about being alone. I like myself. I’m strong and capable, even when I’m scared.”
April pulled back to look her in the eyes. “You are. You’re a wildling. You’re a fucking Leo.”
Daphne laughed but nodded. “I know that now. And part of being strong even when I’m scared is admitting that I want to be with you. I want you.”
“Me,” April said. It wasn’t a question, but it wasn’t declarative either. More like a whispered word to the stars, some language that hadn’t been defined yet.
“You,” Daphne said, cupping April’s hands in her face. “If you’ll have me.”
“I’ll have you,” April said, tears swelling and overflowing quickly. She laughed, took Daphne’s face in her hands too. “I’ll have you, Daphne Love. For as long as you want me.”
She kissed Daphne then, their tears mixing together, both of them laughing as they cried, hands tangling in hair and then roaming down backs to waists and back to each other’s faces.
“I love you,” April said against her mouth. “I’m so proud of you.”
“I’m proud of you,” Daphne said. “I want to hear everything. How the trip has been, if you’ve heard from any agents, how your deck is—”
“Wait,” April said, tilting her head and smiling. “I didn’t tell you about the agents and querying.”
Daphne fought her own smile. “Well. I might have…”
“You’ve been talking to Sasha about me.”
“Guilty.” Daphne grinned.
“You could’ve asked.”
“I didn’t want you to feel like you had to tell me things. If you…” She took a deep breath. “If you didn’t feel the way you had at Cloverwild.”
“Well, I do.”
Daphne tucked a piece of hair behind April’s ear. “I know that now.”
“I might have plied Sasha for information too,” April said. “Just a little.”
Daphne laughed. “Oh, did you?”
“She didn’t tell me about painting number six though,” April said, growing serious.
Daphne’s smile vanished too, but her eyes were shining and soft. “She didn’t know. No one did except Nicola.”
“It’s incredible,” April said. “You’re incredible.” Then she kissed Daphne hard, whispering “I can’t believe you’re here” against her mouth.
“I’m here,” Daphne said, and deepened the kiss, their limbs entwining again, tongues exploring. April grew warm, desperate to be out of this ridiculous costume, desperate to peel Daphne’s dress from her body, desperate for a bed they didn’t have to leave for days or weeks or months.
They came up for air, and April sighed, resting her forehead against Daphne’s as they held each other.
She knew Daphne had gotten a ton of commissions from the Devon’s show.
She also knew her own savings were running low, that she wanted to start some freelance work, maybe get a job in a tattoo shop somewhere while she worked on her deck and built up her illustration portfolio.
She knew Daphne was here by her side right now.
And she knew this was exactly where they both wanted to be.
And she knew she loved Daphne Love.
But that was all. There was so much else she didn’t know. Wasn’t sure about. But somehow, none of that scared her. And even if it did a little, deep in her bones at her most vulnerable moments, she knew she had Daphne. She had Ramona and she had Dylan. She had Sasha. She had her people.
“What do we do now?” she asked, her hands in Daphne’s faded lavender hair.
Daphne pulled her closer, tighter. “Anything we want.”