Page 89 of Wandering Wild

When I’m finally free, I hurry to the front glass door, nearly tripping twice because of the cumbersome outfit. If I hadn’t felt so wretched this morning, I might have donned my much simpler seashell bikini and sequin skirt instead, but I didn’t feel up to wearing anything sparkly today. The kids, at least, will get a kick out of the crab costume—kids that I can see have already started arriving, since there are numerous Ariels and Prince Erics and Ursulas and King Tritons bouncing with excitement on the other side of the glass.

I take a moment to brace myself before entering, belatedly wondering why Ember’s car is here. I didn’t expect her to appear until after my shift, but it’s not unusual for her to hang out with Sandy while I’m looking after the children, so I don’t dwell on it. Instead, I take a breath and prepare to get through the next few hours without thinking about Zander, praying it will begin to feel easier after that. I know deep down that it will never fully stop hurting, and that I’ll always be haunted by my decision, wondering if we could have found a way for it to work despite his career commitments and my newfound wanderlust. But I also know I can’t live like that, forever chained by my regret, buried in doubts and crippled by what-ifs—nor could I have lived knowing he was on one side of the world, locked in studio after studio, while I was somewhere else entirely, our hearts entwined but our lives separated. That would destroy me, just as it would destroy him.

Then again, I could be wrong—he might have already moved on from our time together. His flight will be landing in LA sometime today, and he’ll go back to his life and—and?—

And forget about me.

God, that hurts. I almost buckle from the weight of it, and I press my clawed hand to my chest, fighting back tears, before I give myself a mental kick and pull myself together. I can return to sobbing once I get home; for now, I need to summon my mediocre acting skills and get through this party.

Despite my best efforts, it’s a struggle to paint a friendly smile on my face as I open the door and step into the familiar pink-and-cream-colored parlor. I immediately spot Sandy in front of the counter, talking to a group of young mermaids who are staring at the ice-creams behind the glass, pointing out their favorites. Seeing the twinkle in Sandy’s brown eyes as they share animatedly about all the flavors makes me realize with a pang of sadness that I’m going to miss this place when I leave. But I can’t chase my dreams while staying where I am—that’s not how dreams work.

“Miss Hart!” calls a familiar young girl who has been to numerous parties here since we started offering them. “Look at me—I’m Ariel!”

“So you are,” I say as she runs over with her friends, my smile not so forced now as I take in all their excited faces. I gesture to the silver fork tied around her neck. “I like your necklace.”

“It’s so I can brush my hair, just like Ariel does!” she says with unmitigated glee.

“Very practical,” I tell her, before clapping my clawed hands together. “Who’s ready to make some ice-cream?”

My ears ring with their shouts of “ME! ME! ME!” and “I AMMMM!” and I raise my arms for calm, before saying, “Into the party room, then.”

They squeal with delight and sprint off toward the rainbow-painted annex, while I start to follow at a much more human pace. But then Sandy clears their throat loudly and says, “Hold up a moment, cherub.”

I look at them in question, seeing the bright grin on their purple-glittered lips as they nod pointedly toward the corner of the parlor behind me. Puzzled, I turn around, then come to a jarring halt, unable to believe what I’m seeing.

Because Ember is seated at a table with Maddox and Summer, all three of them beaming at me. And standing next to them, leaning against the wall?—

Is Zander.

I gape at them, athim, certain this must be some kind of heartbroken fever dream and my alarm will wake me up any second now. But the longer I stare at them—athim—the more real they become.

It hits me that I’m not imagining this when Zander straightens and walks slowly toward me, meeting me in the middle of the now-empty parlor. I can hear the kids laughing in the next room, and I’m aware of Sandy still grinning hugely from the glass counter, but I have eyes only for Zander as he comes to a stop before me.

“What are you doing here?” I breathe, afraid one wrong blink will reveal this is a fantasy after all. “Why aren’t you on your way home?”

Zander cocks his head to the side, a smile quirking his lips. But his blue eyes are guarded. Afraid, even. Considering the last time he saw me was when I told him I didn’t want to see or speak to him again, before Iliterallyran away from him, I understand his hesitation—though it still breaks my heart into a thousand new pieces.

“Our flight was delayed until this morning,” he replies, not quite answering my question, since if that were the case, he’d be on it right now. “We were waiting at the airport for it, but then I got an email, and our plans... changed.”

He pulls his phone from his jeans pocket and begins swiping at the screen. If I could summon any words beyond my shock at seeing him, I would be pleading for an explanation, but all I can do is wait, frozen in place, as he finds what he’s looking for.

When he glances up at me again, there’s a nervous look on his face, but he blows out a breath and squares his shoulders before meeting my eyes and saying, “I need you to know that I heard everything you said on Friday night, and if you truly believe our worlds are so different that we can’t be together, or if you don’t feel the same way about me as I do about you, then—then—” He stumbles slightly, before recovering, “Then I’ll respect that, and you’ll never hear from me again. But before you make that call, I have a proposition for you.”

He holds his phone out for me to take.

My hand is shaking as I reach for it, the claw covering my fingers making it difficult for me to get a good grip. At Zander’s urging, I glance down at the screen, noting the bigCONFIDENTIALwarning at the top, frowning slightly as I wonder what it is I’m looking at.

But then I realize.

And my heart stops.

Before it starts again, beating double-time in my chest.

My eyes shoot up to Zander. The nervous look has returned to his face, only it’s much more amplified now.

“Is this—Is this—” My voice is little more than a croak.

“It’s my filming itinerary forTitan’s War,” he tells me. “It’s all locked in.”

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