Page 17 of Get Over It, April Evans

“You,” Nicola said. “Like I said, I’ve never forgotten my experience with you. When my husband suggested we spend the summer in Clover Lake, it felt like a sign.”

“A sign,” April echoed.

“You believe in those, right?” Nicola asked. “If I remember correctly. The stars and such.”

April opened her mouth but closed it again. Her brain felt suddenly fuzzy, packed to the brim with ideas and what-ifs.

And doubts. A lot of doubts.

“But I’m a tattoo artist,” April finally said. “I’m not—”

“You’re an illustrator. Correct?”

April swallowed hard. “Yes. But…” She trailed off, unsure of how to finish that sentence. Shewasan illustrator. She was an artist. And she was a damn good one. Once upon a time, she knew that. It wasn’t that she thought tattooing was a lesser art—it certainly wasn’t—but somewhere along the line, between struggling to keep her shop open for the last two years and feeling perpetually stuck, she might have forgotten exactly who she was. Just a little.

“I am,” she said firmly.

Nicola nodded once. “Good. Do you think you could put some pieces together over the next several weeks? I’d love to see what you come up with. Of course, I can’t promise a place in the exhibition, but I can promise serious consideration.”

April blinked at her. “In the…inyour…at the Devon?”

Nicola smiled beatifically. “See you in class, April.”

April continued to gawp at her as she wandered off, sliding her hand through the arm of a tall Black man in an impeccable gray suit, who handed her a fresh glass of champagne. They ambled into the crowd and disappeared, but April still couldn’t pull her eyes away.

Couldn’t breathe.

She finally managed to blink, the room and the party’s noise coming back into focus.

The Devon.

TheDevon.

One of the most prestigious contemporary art museums in the world, and she might…

Nicola was…

It was possible that…

April wiped a hand down her face as the last ten minutes settled into her blood. She needed air. She needed air and a good pinch on the arm, and—

No.

What she really needed was a great idea.

April walked quicklythrough the front doors and outside. She immediately breathed a little easier, the cool evening air a balm to her overheated skin. The sun had just set, a lavender twilight glow quickly darkening to a comforting black. The sky was cloudless, the moon a shining crescent. A few guests were about, drinks in their hands.

April headed toward the pier, her mind ablaze. Lanterns lit the path from the firepit on the stone patio toward the water, making everything glow gold. The path blossomed out onto a larger rectangular area bordered by a wire-and-wood barrier keeping people safe from toppling into the water. A few small blue chairs were set around the space, but right now, the pier was empty.

April reached the edge and pressed herself against the barrier, leaning over a bit to stare down into the deep green water growing darker by the second as evening faded into night.

She tried to catch her breath, but it kept coming faster. Ramona, Nicola, Elena, Daphne, the Devon—it all swirled in the center of her chest, wild and untamed. Maybe a tumble into the lake would shock her into thinking straight. Normally, she’d consider it. She’d always been up for lake shenanigans as a kid—as a teen, as an adult, the wilder the better as long as she was safe—butshe was at her place of business, potential art class guests milling about. Standing on the railing in her fancy outfit and cannonballing into Clover Lake was probably not the greatest idea.

So she simply dreamed.

Seemed about all she was capable of these days.

Except…