And then Nina had come along, with her late-night tacos and her warm smiles and her apparent sincerity, and Daphne had realized just how lonely she really was.
Daphne was surprised to find that she was crying. Not the delicate, polite cry she called up in public, but a raw, ugly cry, full of snot and broken sobs.
She’d lost everything that had ever mattered to her: her rank, her relationship with Jefferson, this friendship with Nina. And even though the friendship hadn’t been real, Daphne still felt its loss like a punch to the stomach.
Eventually her sobs quieted. She gave a deep, hollow sigh and let her head fall into her hands.
Her grief—and regret—began to petrify inside her, forming a protective shell around the core of her being. Those feelings slowly gave way to anger, which came as a relief. Anger she could work with. Anger could be a tool, if she was smart enough to wield it.
Nina had played her, and Daphne had let her do it.
She’d let Nina back her into a corner and knock her down, but she still wasn’t defeated. Not yet. She was still young and beautiful, still famous, and she had a history with Jefferson. That all counted for something.
She slipped the signet ring off her finger and turned it over in her hands, studying the cool script of the W. It reminded her of everything she couldn’t afford to lose.
Her hands shaking only a little, Daphne put the ring back on, then reached into her clutch for her compact mirror. She dabbed concealer beneath her eyes, wiped away the streaks of mascara that had run down her cheeks, darkened her lips. When she was done, she assessed her work dispassionately, the way an artist might study a painting in search of its flaws.
Strangely enough, she looked even more beautiful than usual. The tears had made her eyes luminous beneath her thick lashes. The neckline of her gown stirred with her breath, which was steadier every moment. She felt like she’d been under a spell for months.
And now that her mind had finally broken free—returning her to her real self at last—she would make Nina pay for her betrayal.
Daphne stood with a toss of her famous red-gold hair. Shadows seemed to gather and swirl around her like a cloak as she started back toward the party with deadly purpose.
Jeff was kissing her. And Nina kissed him back.
She couldn’t help it: her body was operating on instinct, on muscle memory, because this was Jeff, after all. She had loved him so desperately for so long. Maybe she had never stopped loving him.
Nina’s entire body tingled, as if the feel of his lips on hers had ignited a long-forgotten magic. Deep down, she knew that this was what a kiss should feel like—steady and certain, and fundamentally right, like you had found your way home when you didn’t even know you’d been lost.
It wasn’t until she heard a sound across the garden that Nina tore away and stumbled back a step.
She looked over, panicked that they had been caught, but no one was there.
Jeff drew in a breath. “Sorry if I misread things. I thought, the other night…”
Nina couldn’t bear to make eye contact with him. “Jeff, we can’t do this to Daphne. She’s your girlfriend, and she’s my friend.” The strangest thing was, it was true.
How had Nina managed to become friends with her former enemy, the girl whose boyfriend she also happened to be in love with? Why didn’t she have an ounce of self-preservation?
Jeff shook his head. “Things are weird between me and Daphne. I won’t get into it with you, but suffice it to say that Daphne and I aren’t in a great place.”
“You can’t just kiss me every time you and Daphne have a fight!” Nina burst out, suddenly frustrated. “It’s not fair to me or Daphne, okay? Honestly, I wish you would just—”
“Just what, Nina?”
“Just hook up with one of the other countless girls who throw themselves at you! Quit yo-yoing from Daphne to me to Daphne to me again! I don’t get it—we aren’t even that similar! Why do you keep doing this to both of us? Can’t you just find someone else to rebound with?”
Jeff stared at her a long moment, and Nina swallowed. She had never really asked what he’d done when he wasn’t with her or Daphne, last summer and fall, when he was bouncing around the world with Samantha. Certainly Sam had gotten into plenty of trouble on that gap-year trip, and all the royal tours they had taken.
Nina could see it now: Jeff picking up some random girl at a bar in New Zealand, playing darts with her, letting her win because he was that chivalrous. Sneaking her into his hotel room, sneaking her out again the next morning like he’d once done with Nina. That type of girl wouldn’t bat an eyelash at being smuggled out in a black car; she would be squealing with glee at the fact she’d just hooked up with a prince. It would give her bragging rights forever.
Maybe it would be easier if Jeff went after a girl like that. At least then Nina wouldn’t have to risk losing him all over again.
She wasn’t sure if she could handle any more of this twisted love triangle between her, Daphne, and Jeff.
“I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong idea. Kissing you wasn’t the best way to start this conversation,” Jeff said clumsily. “I told you, I’m not any good with words. Let me start over.”
Nina picked up the skirts of her gown and noticed, not really caring, that her hem was muddy and grassy. She let go, holding her breath.
“I like you, Nina,” Jeff said bluntly. “Lately, I’ve felt like there was something between us again. I wouldn’t have even said anything, except that the last time we hung out…I know I’d had too much to drink that night, but it felt like we came close to kissing.”
“You’re still with Daphne, though,” Nina reminded him.
“Technically, yes,” Jeff mumbled. “But I’m going to break up with her.”
“I don’t want you to break up with Daphne for me!”
“I’m not breaking up with her for you, Nina. I’m breaking up with her because Daphne has been…different lately. She’s not acting like herself.”
She’s not acting like herself because she’s becoming a better person, Nina thought. Because you two never really belonged together. And now that you’re seeing glimpses of her real self, you realize that she isn’t the girl you thought you fell for.
But of course Nina couldn’t say any of that.
“I’ll always care about Daphne,” Jeff went on—the type of trite statement that people usually made in breakups, except that he really did mean it. “It’s just that lately, spending time with you, I remembered what it was like. You and me.”
He reached out as if to touch her, but Nina took a swift step back. She wasn’t ready to commit to this, not yet.