(Scarlett’s POV)


    An hour after Jasper leaves, the birthday cheers around me quiets down.


    I retreat to a corner, taking out the gift Jasper handed me. It’s light, fragile.


    Inside the box is a ne, silver chain. But the charm–my baby tooth. My childhood tooth, the one James had pulled out.


    I must have been seven. I remember sitting on the edge of the tub, James standing over me, nervous and sweating, a length of pink thread in his hand.


    “<i>Ready</i><i>, </i><i>Scar</i><i>? </i>One <i>quick </i>tug<i>, </i><i>like </i><i>ripping </i>off a band–aid. <i>You </i><i>won’t </i>even feel it.”


    <i>“</i><i>I’m </i><i>scared</i>, <i>Daddy</i><i>! </i><i>Don’t </i><i>do </i><i>it</i><i>!</i><i>” </i>


    “<i>Don’t </i><i>be </i><i>scared</i><i>, </i><i>I’ve got </i><i>you</i><i>.</i><i>” </i>


    I press my fingers against my lips, tasting salt. They always do this. First abandon me, then when I try to cut them off, they try to force themselves back into my life.


    I can’t help but wonder. Is emotional ckmail a thing now?


    Swallowing back the tears, I drop the chain back in the box and snap it close.


    <i>“</i>Scarlett?” Dorianes behind me, Lily sleepy but beaming in his arms. The sight of them, framed in the warm light of the bakery, eases the tightness in my chest. “You okay?”


    “Yeah, I’m fine.” I smile, tucking the box under the counter.


    “Come on, everyone’s looking for you.”


    I run to his side, and he slips an arm around me, leading me outside. The sight that wees me is stunning.


    Chloe, Elena, and a few of our closest, most loyal regrs have been busy transforming the small, grassy patch <i>of </iwn next to the bakery.


    A small, portable grill is sizzling, filling the night with theforting smell of woodsmoke and grilling meat.


    The night air is cool, but a string of fairy lights twinkle over the simple, rustic setup. Childrenugh, sliding between legs, chasing fireflies.


    *25 Points


    “Chloe and Elena insisted on a party<i>, </i>Dorian exins, his hand resting on the small of my back, leading me to the group.


    “It’s amazing,” I whisper, eyes glistening. And it is. Because it’s the kind of small, warm, andfortable celebration I’ve always wanted.


    As the evening progresses, conversation flows easily.


    We drink wine and beer and talk about Lily’s new school year, the bakery’s expansion ns, Dorian’s uing trip to London, and our ridiculous, fast–paced engagement.


    “We need a date!” Chloe demands, wiping barbecue sauce from her chin. “I need time to n my maid–of–honor speech!”


    Iugh, leaning into Dorian’s shoulder. “We just got engaged an hour ago, Chloe! We’re not thinking about the wedding yet.”


    “Why not? It doesn’t have to be a grand affair. Something simple, cozy, maybe a winter wedding…”


    “She’s right! It doesn’t need to be grand, as long as it happens soon. In fact, the sooner, the better!” Elena nods, giving her an approving smile.


    Before nothing, I didn’t even dare to think about an engagement, and yet, they’re already discussing my wedding?


    I shake my head, and leave them be. Whatever makes them happy.


    Someone puts on an old, jazzy swing record, the music drifting softly over the grass. Dorian sets Lily down, now contentedly tucked into a makeshift fort of nkets, and holds out his


    hand to me.


    “Care for a dance?”


    I tilt my head, and meet his gaze. They’re warm, gentle. Shining with the kind of regard I…


    I shake my head. I can’t think about him. Not anymore.


    Since I epted Dorian’s proposal, I owed it to him to be faithful, in body, mind, and heart.


    Jasper can no longer upy my thoughts.


    I smile, and take Dorian’s offered hand. He pulls me close, his arms wrapping securely around my waist. As we move together, the unfamiliar steps of the swing music be a perfect, synchronized rhythm.


    We dance until the music slows to a tender, quiet bad. Dorian pulls me in closer, resting his


    cheek against my hair. I close my eyes, inhaling his scent–fresh, clean, and utterly, wonderfully safe.


    I feel a profound, soul–deep peace.


    There’s no restlessness, no nervousness, no pain. None of the exhaustion I felt in my rtionship with Jasper.


    I rest my head on his chest, hearing his heartbeat. Mine slows, bes calmer.


    No one interrupts us. No one stands between us.


    Everything is beautiful and perfect.


    Then why?


    25 Ponte:


    Why is there an emptiness in my heart? Why do I feel hollow, as if I’ve just lost a piece of my


    soul?


    Suddenly, a camera shes. I blink, surprised. One of the regrs, a sweet old photographer named Mr. Harrison, is standing a few feet away, his vintage camera raised.


    “Sorry, sorry!” he whispers. “But you two are glowing! I had to capture it. Scarlett, you’re the luckiest birthday girl I’ve ever seen.”


    He takes another photo, and the bright sh momentarily blinds me. But in that brief, intense burst of light, I realize something fundamental.


    He has captured us–Dorian and me, slow–dancing, me in my messy apron.


    “Please tell me this won’t go in an album?” I whisper to Dorian.


    Heughs, and the sound sends the rest of the crowd roaring inughter.


    “I can’t tell you that, because I’m definitely putting this one in the album.” He smiles, and the sight banishes away thest shadows of my past.


    44


    Violet Moon


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