uncle’s favorite poems were etched into stone steps. Flowers bloomed around us, and songbirds perched in gilded cages.
I read the words inscribed on the marble bench.
Woodson Hale Memorial Garden.
I swiped uselessly at the tears.
For a few hours, we all sat and shared memories and poems until the sun set and they had to get back to work. I wondered as they left. They couldn’t have done this on their own. Had Tansy helped set up the garden?
I had an hour or so until I had to meet Grayson, and I checked on my Instagram.
I had a following of over 2.5 million now. After “coming out” as a cheater and a liar, it seemed to resonate with a lot of people. Every Dear Atlas was reblogged or reposted. I was getting a lot of emails from publishing houses and agents.
I wasn’t hiding anymore.
I lifted my head, feeling like my uncle was with me in this garden filled with songbirds and poetry. I don’t know if this was what he meant, but it felt like it.
“You can’t hide behind the other side of the tracks forever, Rich GGirl.” I paused at the head of the Horsemen’s voice, turning my head just in time to see Grim pluck a cigarette out of Gemma’s mouth and stamp it out beneath his black boot. “Don’t smoke. You taste better.”
I waited until Grim had left before approaching. When he was gone, she pulled out another cigarette, lighting it with a rose gold lighter and pushing it between her rosebud lips, glaring in the direction he’d left.
“Gemma?”
She looked over her shoulder, flipping her shiny, short blonde hair as she did.
“Hey, Stony.”
I ignored the jab as I sat down beside her. The more I was with Gemma, the more I saw how similar she was to Gray. She wasn’t like Aundi and Pipa. There was a darkness in her eyes, and the perfect spoiled princess act she put on was a shield, an act, an armor.
You don’t catch the eyes of Grim without reason.
She took a puff of the cigarette, staring out at the ocean with her bright blue eyes. “So you, like, own my house now.” She blew smoke rings toward the ocean. “Does that mean my sister will be allowed back?”
I nodded.
“Ugh. Gross.”
But her lips quirked slightly. I fiddled with my skirt. I never thought I’d be in this position, owing Gemma Crowne.
I don’t know if Sonnet or I would have survived without her.
If I would have been able to handle Grim and the Horsemen without her.
If I would have ever found my way back to Grayson.
“So…Thank you.”
She scrunched her face at me like I’d just asked her to eat a bug. “Stooop,” she whined. “I’m going to need you and Grayson and everyone acting like fucking pod people to stop saying thank you and sorry and just—” She waved her cigarette in the air.
So, Grayson apologized then.
“Okay, so can you, like, please go?” She stamped her cigarette on the wall, annoyed. “I can’t smoke around you.”
I gave her a look, and she waved her hand around my boobs. “Doesn’t it, like, get into your breast milk or something?”
Nope, Gemma Crowne was definitely an enigma.
“Someone once told me the villain and the princess have a relationship too, even if it’s unwanted. Is he your villain? Or your hero?”
Gemma captured her plump lower lip between her top two teeth, brow furrowing. “He’s both.”
Seventy-Nine
GRAY
Story was looking out the window like the first time I’d come to her, and I was just as stricken then as I was now. Finally she was wearing her old clothes again—if not better quality.
Soft lace kissed her throat and wrapped around her wrists. White silk flowed over her gingerbread skin. She was a Victorian queen—my fucking queen.
I spent a month trying to think of the perfect way to propose to Snitch.
No ring was good enough for her.
No trinket could ever express my love.
Sonnet made a small sound and Story turned, smiling. Her eyes fell to Sonnet, then to me.
“Hi,” she whispered.
Story took Sonnet, and I wrapped my arms around them both, dragging Story to my chest.
We both looked out the window, not counting the minutes.
At peace.
Sonnet scrunched her nose at the breeze. The world outside was calm, like an old photo picked off the sand. The saltwater air smelled sweeter, the cawing of the seagulls muted and almost melodic.
Story leaned into my chest. “Why did you want to meet me here?”
I kissed the underside of her jaw. “I want you anywhere. But here…”