Page 23 of Get Over It, April Evans

“What was her name?” Daphne asked again.

“Fuck,” April said quietly, then looked down at her lap, picked at her chipping black nail polish. And she knew she couldn’t do it—couldn’t lie to Daphne, no matter how much easier this would be if she did. Blissful ignorance and all that.

And maybe part of her wanted the truth out there, the air fully cleared. Maybe a smaller part of her wanted Daphne to know—wanted her to understand exactly how and why and when and who.

Maybe, really, she just wanted to exist in this sordid history, because ever since yesterday when it became clear that Elena had never once mentioned April’s name to Daphne—April, who Elena had asked to marry her once upon a time—April felt like she was disappearing.

She thought about her parents, about Ramona, about her complete lack of other adult friends. She’d been disappearing for a while now. Maybe her whole life, one tiny millimeter at a time. And goddammit, she was tired of it. She didn’t want to be Elena’s ex, no. But she had to be something, didn’t she?

Someone.

So she sent a hand through her hair and met Daphne’s probing gaze. “Her name was Elena.”

Chapter

Six

Daphne felt herselfgo still, but it took a second for her brain to catch up with what her body was already processing.

“Her name is…” She trailed off, because the name April said couldn’t be right. Or it was just a massively ironic coincidence. “Elena.”

April nodded, her eyes a little glassy.

Daphne took a breath. “Elena—”

“Elena Watson,” April said. “Yes, that Elena Watson.YourElena Watson.”

Daphne blinked rapidly. “Wait…what are you saying?”

April blew out a breath. “You really didn’t know?”

Daphne tried to swallow but couldn’t. “Know what?”

April just stared at her.

Daphne felt her world shrinking.

Or expanding.

Exploding.

She dumped me like a piece of trash three years ago.

“Wait,” Daphne said again, as though asking the truth to back off and hang on a second would actually work.

Three years ago.

“How…” Daphne said, but didn’t know how to finish the sentence. How to finish any sentence. “Why…when…”

“Three years ago,” April said. “I’d met her three years before that in Boston. We lived together here and in the city. She asked me to marry her. We were happy, and then—”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Daphne said, holding up a shaking hand. “You’re talking so fast.”

April stopped, but only for a second. Her voice was soft, but her words felt like bombs detonating. “You really didn’t know that she—”

“No, no, I didn’t know anything,” Daphne said, then pressed her hands to her ears. She was sure she looked ridiculous, like a little kid, but she couldn’t help it. The universe was flying, spinning, and she just needed a second to breathe, to think.

April gave it to her.