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She hadn’t even lifted the drape since she’d closed the door on his perplexed face.

It just sat there, a life-sized testament to her own foolishness.

She should finish it, try to find a way to make it more Poppy and less sucky, but she wasn’t ready to look at it again yet.

Wasn’t ready for another resounding mental chorus of Rai was right, actually.

He was so much better off without her.

Her mom shook her head but then turned to her with a bright smile. “Have you heard from Rai?”

The wave of relief that had started to wash through Poppy turned to cold nausea.

She turned away, fiddling with the potholders.

“Mom, we broke up. I told you, he got sent to another city—um, Seattle—and we decided not to do long distance.” She hadn’t been able to talk about what had actually happened.

Too much of it was mixed up in stuff she didn’t want her mom to know, for her own good, and the rest of it was…

other stuff she didn’t want her mom to know, because she couldn’t bear for her mom to know it. Because she was ashamed.

It hadn’t escaped her, the irony that she was doing exactly what Rai had when he’d tried to cover his disappointment in her painting.

That keeping the truth from her mother now was taking all the burden of their situation on her own shoulders, pretending that being trapped in Tucson didn’t cause her any pain.

But in the end, the lies hadn’t been what tore her and Rai apart.

It had been the truth, her truth and his, unmixy and unmergeable and ultimately insurmountable.

She straightened her shoulders, looked back at her mom, turned the lies back on full force. “It’s all right. Sometimes things just aren’t meant to be.”

“Yes, but…” Her mom shrugged, her eyes dipping away. Not fast enough for Poppy to miss the disappointment. “I liked him. He wasn’t like…” Another shrug, eloquent.

“No,” Poppy said quietly. “He wasn’t like Brendan at all.” She pasted on a smile, extra wattage. “Mind if I go for a walk? I won’t go far.”

“Take a water bottle,” her mom said. “There are some in the fridge.”

“Of course.” Poppy snagged two, tossing them in a cloth grocery bag and slinging it over her shoulder before heading out the front door.

She made herself hurry past the oleander bush, then hesitated.

She’d been avoiding places she and Rai had gone together, but maybe it was time to rip off that band-aid, too.

Reclaim Tucson for herself. Café Legend might be a burning bridge too far, but she could walk down Fourth, couldn’t she?

Lose herself in humanity for a bit. Remember what she’d used to enjoy there instead of the Rai-ness of it all .

Setting her jaw, she took off at a brisk pace. She could do this. Start the process of healing. She just had to do it.

And it was working, she decided. Of course, she kept her gaze stolidly averted from the coffee shop’s plate glass window when she passed, not even checking to see if Heather was on duty today.

She’d already done the math and figured out that Heather had to have conspired with Rai on the art purchases.

Thankfully, she didn’t have to come up with an excuse not to stop in—she couldn’t afford to buy coffee anymore, and she hadn’t sold any art since then, for reasons that were painfully obvious.

She didn’t blame Heather, of course. Rai was good at sweet-talking, even if he wasn’t Heather’s preference.

He could charm a leopard out of its spots.

She just…didn’t want to deal with it today. So she walked on.

Poppy presented her hand to a few dogs, petted the ones that allowed it, complimented them to their people even when they didn’t.

She dutifully drank her water at regular intervals.

She scanned the new releases in the bookstore window, inhaled the aromas of the Greek restaurant, admired talavera mugs and cutwork metal sculptures and bohemian dresses.

It wouldn’t be too long till the street fair. Maybe this year her mother would—

Poppy froze, longing spearing through her unexpectedly. Though she should have expected it, should have turned back a block ago. Should have known this particular band-aid wasn’t ready for ripping.

Rough gray stone on the left, red brick on the right, the seam between them mortared straight up and down.

She still couldn’t see the gateway, couldn’t see past the wards Rai had told her were there for the protection of the fae, but she had learned to feel it, and even if she couldn’t…

She knew it was there. Knew what was on the other side.

Knew who wasn’t on the other side.

She set her hand on the portal she would never pass through again and tried not to burst into tears.

There were people moving past her on the sidewalk, probably thinking she was crazy.

And probably they were right, but she still couldn’t move, not even when someone stepped up beside her to use the ATM.

She turned her face away, definitely to be polite and not spy on their transaction, definitely not because tears were pricking at her eyes.

“Poppy?”

The voice was familiar but not—a female voice, rich and mellifluous, and Poppy’s heart lifted for no good reason as she turned to face a woman she’d never met before.

She was taller than Poppy, elegantly rounded, wearing a creamy layered dress that flowed around sandaled feet.

Her skin was a rich sienna brown, set off by intricate gold jewelry about her neck and wrists, and she had a lavish fall of silvering black braids swirled around her head and falling over her bare shoulders.

She was regarding Poppy through narrowed eyes that were a startling shade of tawny gold, and just as Poppy pieced together all of the parts into the conclusion fae —wings or not, she knew the look now—the woman’s face shifted into a wry smile that completed the puzzle.

She couldn’t say the name, though, not through the lump that had lodged in her throat.

“It is Poppy, is it not?” There was an odd light in the woman’s eyes that might be humor or derision. “I have certainly been forced to admire enough pictures of you to know your face. I am Ofelia.”

Hearing the name jolted the cold lump of misery back down to Poppy’s stomach, where it belonged. “Yes,” she said, nodding. “Yes, you are. I mean, that’s me. Poppy. I’m Poppy.” She forced herself to stop nodding, put on a brilliant smile. “I’m…pleased to meet you at last.”

She wasn’t pleased. She wanted to run, run all the way back home. Maybe there were more jobs she could bury herself in. Maybe—

“Did you wish to go in?”

Poppy followed Ofelia’s gaze to the seam between buildings, which Poppy’s hand was still resting on.

Her fingers had somehow curved into claws, as if she were trying to dig her way into faerie.

She yanked it back to herself, resisting the urge to cradle it to her chest. “No. No, I… I was just passing by. I was on my way…” She gestured vaguely. “Just passing by.”

“Ah.” Ofelia’s eyes returned to her face. They were far too piercing, far too observant for comfort. Far too much like Rai’s, though they seemed to hold fire instead of lightning, sand instead of storms.

Poppy should smile and wave and walk away. Instead, she heard herself blurt, “How is he?”

Ofelia’s eyebrows shot up.

“I mean, I know he’s not here,” Poppy said quickly, looking away from those all-seeing eyes.

“He left weeks ago. But I thought maybe… Maybe he texted you once in a while. And I don’t want to know where he is.

I don’t need to… But he’s safe, right?” She swallowed harshly.

The fucking lump just wouldn’t stay down. “He’s somewhere safe?”

“Our mutual friend with rocks for brains? ”

Poppy nodded, though she slanted Ofelia an irritated glance, taking in the fae woman’s faint smirk. “He’s not stupid. Just…” She shrugged. “Pure of heart, strong of arm…too smart for his own good.”

“So he is.” Ofelia’s voice was gentle, then turned brisk. “He is well enough, I suppose. When last we spoke, he was alive, at the very least.”

“And he’s happy?” Poppy could feel her face turning red from more than the heat.

“No, don’t answer that. I don’t…” God, she was digging a hole for herself, deeper and deeper.

But she couldn’t stop. “I want him to be happy, now that he’s moved on,” she managed to say, almost firmly. Just the tiniest bit of quiver.

Ofelia did not answer immediately, and finally Poppy looked back at her. She had the faintest of smiles, but her expression wasn’t amusement. It seemed almost like…pity? “He is trying to find happiness,” Ofelia finally said. “It remains to be seen if he will succeed.”

The lump landed like an anvil in Poppy’s stomach. So he had moved on. He probably already had his eye on her replacement. Which was just what she’d wanted him to do, she reminded herself. “That’s good,” she said aloud. “I’m glad.”

“Did you wish me to give him a message?”

“No!” Poppy waved her hands in the air. “He doesn’t need to hear from me. He’s better off… I’m glad he’s okay. That’s all I needed to know.”

“And if he asks after you?” Ofelia pressed. “Shall I tell him you are also…okay?”

She wasn’t okay. She wasn’t okay at all. She was as far as she could possibly be from okay. “Yes,” she said, lifting her chin as bravely as she could. “If he asks, tell him…” She shook her head sharply. “Just tell him whatever he needs to hear. It doesn’t matter, as long as he’s safe.”

Ofelia smiled, with true humor. “You have met him, haven’t you? He will never be safe. ”

That startled a laugh out of Poppy. “No,” she said. “No, that’s what I lo— That’s what he always said. But you know what I mean.”

“Indeed.” Ofelia’s eyes crinkled.

Poppy glanced at the wall again. “I guess you were on your way in. I should let you…” She stepped back, wringing her hands.