Chapter 3

I spent the whole morning packing. There wasn't much. Anything I didn't need I'd already hauled to the dumpster.

The one thing I had to bring back was the wedding dress I'd never once opened.

My mother had stitched it for me, stitch by stitch. She said she hoped to see the day I finally wore it.

I'd hoped for that day too—wearing that dress, marrying Nat, then bringing him home for my mother to see.

But when I told Nat, he didn't like the idea. "Everyone wears a white gown now. It'd look strange, you in that thing."

Before I left, I changed into the traditional dress of my people. I was saying goodbye to Nat's city for good, going back to the place that was mine.

Then Aunt Brooklyn called out of nowhere. "Ainsley, let me come back with you this time. It's been years since I visited the village myself."

I said yes, and we agreed to meet at the station.

Going home didn't feel the way it used to. Before, I always dreaded that once I went back my mother would shut me away and I'd never see Nat again.

This time my heart held nothing but the quiet of home.

Even the scenery out the window no longer held me.

My phone started buzzing, message after message. I opened it. Nat.

He'd sent a whole string of photos. He'd reached Harbor City, and he'd gone down to the beach.

He sent me a picture of colored seashells. "Ainsley, Gertrude picked these out just for you. Do you like them?"

I didn't answer. I tapped into his feed instead.

Sure enough, he'd posted. A grid of nine photos in soft blue, and in every one, the backs of him and Gertrude combing the shore.

The center image was a necklace strung with colored shells.

And words scrawled in the sand: "The colored shells belong to Nat. The 'rainbow' belongs to Nat too."

I stayed on his feed a long time. Long enough for him to post again—a video this time.

Two shadows in it, a man and a woman, the girl riding on the man's back.

The song over it: "Just want to be a fool for love, just want a home to settle down in."

It was one of those couple videos going viral lately.

Everyone in the comments assumed the girl on his back was me.

"Mr. Winfield, you take your wife along on business trips?"

"Nat, still this crazy about your wife after all these years!"

"Ha, so Mr. Winfield's got a soft side after all. Can't wait for the wedding."

Nat didn't reply to a single one. He let them all believe the woman on his back was me.

Right then, another message came through.

A screenshot of his own post. "Reporting in to the wife—Gertrude and I made a little video."

"Ains, don't be jealous, okay? Gertrude's just got a kid's temperament.

I filmed it with her for fun. She says having this video will help her turn down some of the guys chasing her."

"She begged me for ages. I couldn't bring myself to say no, so I agreed. If it bothers you, I'll delete it in a bit."

My eyes stung and my chest sat heavy, but I still wrote back:

"It's fine. Have fun, you two!"

Nat: "Our Ains really has grown up. Not the little girl who used to get jealous over every little thing!"

Nat. There won't be any of that again.

Thirteen hours by car, and I was back on home ground.

The one who came to the station to meet us caught me off guard. It was the man my mother had chosen for me to marry.

His name was Vivian Mann. He was a charm-master too.

After we exchanged greetings, we set off into the mountains.

Our people are among the few whose line still keeps the old rites of the ancient forebears intact.

The signal in the mountains was poor, so all we could do was chat the whole way back.

Vivian was easy to talk to, warm and open. Somewhere along the way, he said he'd seen me once when I was a child.