Page 185 of Ice Darling
I add Cordelia’s name to the search engine so it now reads “Cordelia and Gwendolyn Davenport.”
Cordelia is more lowkey on social media. The only links I can find that mention Cordelia at all are about her appearances at bike shows and a small magazine article about what it’s like to be a female CEO.
There are no images of the twins together in public or any written articles about one supporting the other. Online, the two were about as close as strangers.
I snatch my blue-light reading glasses off and toss them on the desk, massaging the bridge of my nose. A knot of pain tugs at my heart. I can imagine how it must have felt for a soul as tender as Cordelia’s to be disconnected from her twin.
What could have driven them apart? Was it Sasha’s favoritism? Or was there something else?
I scroll farther and spot a familiar face. Brennon is in one of the photos with Gwendolyn. I click on the image, and it takes me to his social media page.
As I look, I start scowling. The schmuck’s account is practically a love letter to Gwendolyn.
Good luck to the next Miss Galaxy!
Happy birthday to the most beautiful woman in the world.
You’re already a queen to me.
It’s obvious which twin he had feelings for.
A part of me is happy that Brennon never liked Cordelia back. If he had, she would have jumped at the chance to date him. However, it must have been a low blow to watch someone she was crushing on be so blatant about his preference for her sister.
Between Sasha’s treatment of the twins and Brennon’s rejection, it makes sense that a rift would be formed between the two.
I try to get into Gwendolyn’s social media page, but it’s private.
Oh well.
Thinking I’ve solved the mystery, I start to click out of the search engine when I notice a picture of Brennon, Gwendolyn, and an unfamiliar man.
Was this Gwendolyn’s partner?
Makes sense. She must have had a boyfriend or husband. She couldn’t have had the baby by herself.
I click on his social media profile, and thankfully, it isn’t private. The entire page is a carefully curated gallery. There are tons of pictures of him and Gwendolyn. Them holding hands on the beach. Him proposing to her. Their wedding.
I scowl at a photo of him kissing Gwendolyn in her wedding dress and try to remind myself that it’s not Cordelia.
“Man, they look so much alike,” I mumble, scrambling away from the picture. It’s uncanny. And even though my mind knows that it’s not Cordelia, my body doesn’t like seeing her with another manat all.
It’s strange how that works.
The most recent picture was posted a while ago. I stare at the date, something itching at my mind. It’s…around the same time that Cordelia ended up in Lucky Falls.
The caption under the picture readsYou were stolen from me. Gone too soon.Something about the wording rubs me the wrong way, but I figure it’s social media and the guy’s in mourning. It’s okay to be dramatic during bouts of grief.
I go through more images of him and Cordelia—I mean Gwendolyn. My stomach feels queasy watching the uncannylookalike. It’s another person entirely, and yet it bothers me to see someone with Cordelia’s face living life with another man.
I’m losing it.
This is too strange.
I move my mouse to hit the exit button. Unfortunately, I hit the refresh button instead. The page opens again, and I notice that Gwendolyn’s husband just uploaded a new picture.
It’s of Gwendolyn eating an ice cream cone and winking at the camera. She’s on a yacht with her husband, and the selfie reveals the beautiful lake house behind them.
The caption reads:I’ll never forget. And I’ll never let them forget either.
