he’s busy talking to someone new, grinning and gesturing at one of his photos. He’s in his element, and I want to be happy for him, but … I also can’t help but wonder whether he’s avoiding me.
Despite how much he hurt me, in all my fantasies over the past few weeks, one thing has stayed constant. Yes, I want his apology. Yes, I want him to plead for forgiveness. Yes, I want to hear him say how wrong he was not to trust me.
But more than any of that, I want him to still like me.
As much as I still like him.
But what if that isn’t the case? What if in these last weeks he’s realized he never wanted me to begin with. That it was all a huge mistake—just like he said.
I need to get out of here.
I stand up. I’ll slip out while no one is watching. I won’t have to say goodbye to Morgan or Rosa or anyone. As I make my way to the exit, I don’t look back at Quint, just in case he notices me trying to leave. Because I couldn’t stand it if he saw and didn’t try to stop me.
I’ll have to face him eventually. If I’m going to continue volunteering at the center, I’ll have to confront the way he hurt me. And school is starting again soon, and there’s a good chance we’ll have some classes together. I’ll have to accept that whatever happened between us is really and truly over.
As I pass the now-empty auction table, something catches my eye.
I nearly trip over my feet. There’s something glinting up at me, tucked just behind one of the table legs, almost hidden by the tablecloth.
I crouch and pick it up.
It’s a vintage diamond earring hooked onto a chain necklace. The clasp must have broken when Shauna and I fell.
The diamond winks at me.
I chuckle to myself. “Nice one, Universe.”
I turn and spot Maya sitting at the same table where I noticed her before, staring at her phone. I could go give it to her, but I don’t really want the credit for finding this earring any more than I want the blame for it first having been lost.
“Excuse me?” I say to a passing volunteer. “Could you give this to that girl over there? I think she lost it.”
“Oh, sure.” The volunteer takes the earring with some uncertainty, but doesn’t ask any questions.
I stick around just long enough to see the earring delivered. To see Maya’s shock, her disbelief—her utter joy. She actually starts crying as she clutches it to her heart, then stands up and gives the stunned volunteer a tight hug.
Too bad that isn’t Jude, I think. Then I would have just made two people’s nights.
Onstage, the sweet old lady finishes her song, and I clap with as much enthusiasm as I can—but my heart isn’t in it. The theater might be overflowing with good vibes, good music, and more generosity than I could have imagined, but my heart is still broken.
I start to turn away.
“Next up,” Trish says into the microphone, “one of the rescue center’s most beloved and longtime volunteers. Please welcome to the stage … Quint Erickson!”
I spin around so fast I nearly lose my balance.
Surely she didn’t just say …
And there he is, walking up onto the stage. He smiles nervously at Trish as he takes the microphone from her. He looks positively terrified.
He clears his throat, nodding gratefully at the applause that’s followed him to the platform. “Sorry,” he says, giving an awkward wave to the audience. “You all don’t deserve the torture I’m about to put you through, but … it’s for a good cause, right? So … here goes.”
There’s some mild laughter. Some encouraging whoops.
The music begins.
My stomach drops.
“Dear Prudence … won’t you come out to play?”
I hear a few gasps and feel people searching me out and, when they find me, pointing and whispering.
Quint, too, is scanning the room. But once he finds me, his eyes stay locked on mine.
My mouth goes dry as I listen, and a small part of me thinks I should be mortified by the attention, but I’m not.
I’m awestruck.
I’m delirious.
I’m … a little worried that this might not mean what I want it to mean.
“The sun is up, the sky is blue. It’s beautiful, and so are you, dear Prudence…”
My heart is beating so hard it might pound right out of my chest.
His singing voice is … not great, I’ll admit. But the way