I caught my breath as tears stung the corners of my eyes. “I mean it. Your cheering-up technique really could use some work.”

He rolled his eyes. “Do you or not?”

I threw up my hands. “Yes! I do. I really do. But it’s too late. He’s gone, remember?”

“I don’t think so.” He gestured to the phone. “Not according to this. What’s keeping you here, exactly? It’s not your job. It’s not your mom. Why aren’t you out on the road with him right now?”

“I can’t do that.” But it was an automatic denial, and even as I said the words there was a thrill in my chest. What if Mitch was right? What if my mom was right? What if I threw everything I cared about into a few bags and just . . . went for it?

April could see that I was wavering. “Does he make you happy?”

“Yes.” I didn’t even have to think about the answer.

“Would you want to travel with him? Live that kind of life?”

I took the time to think about that. To consider living out of vehicles. Traveling from faire to faire. Living that life, speaking their language.

Being with Daniel.

It sounded perfect. Like the kind of life I’d always wanted, even when I didn’t know it.

And I’d said no, because I was too chickenshit. I’d turned him down and let him go.

I groaned and let my head fall into my hands. “God. I really fucked up, didn’t I?”

April whistled. “When did you get such a potty mouth?” But when I looked over at her, she was smiling. Why was she smiling?

“That doesn’t change the fact that it’s too late.” I picked up my phone. It was still displaying Daniel’s goodbye message, and I traced his name with my fingernail.

“Nah.” Mitch drained the rest of his beer. “They’re over at the Maryland Ren Fest, right? That’s like an hour away, maybe two. They’re not going anywhere for a while.”

“No, but Daniel is.” April’s eyes went wide as she looked at me, and I knew exactly what she was talking about.

“Oh, no!” I threw my phone into my purse. “I have to go!” I started to scoot out of the booth but Mitch blocked my progress like a brick wall.

“Go where?” Mitch looked from April to me in confusion, not getting the hint at all.

I punched him on the arm. “Scoot over, I need to get out!”

“Hey, cut it out! What’s the hurry?” He looked at me as though I’d lost my mind. And maybe I had. I didn’t care.

“I have to get over there. He’s gonna leave, and I don’t know where he’ll be after that.” Had he even told me the Kilts’ schedule after this next gig? My mind was blank with panic.

“What the . . .” Mitch stood up so I could scoot out behind him. “I just said they’re gonna be there for a while.”

“But Daniel won’t be,” April said. “He’s only staying the first weekend. He said so, in the email.” She squinted up at me. “You know, you could send him an email. Let him know you’re coming up, maybe?”

“Okay. Yes. You’re right.” I fished in my bag for my phone before I remembered. “He doesn’t check his email during Faire weekends.” I let my head fall back on my neck with a groan. “He was only doing that because I was emailing him, and . . .”

“. . . And he doesn’t think you’re emailing him anymore.” April finished the sentence with a sigh. “You could text him, then. You have his number?”

My only answer was another groan. I was so sick of my phone. I was sick of all of it: of emails, of social media, of texts. Of words on screens. I wanted tangible reality. I wanted Daniel’s smile, warming me from the inside out. I wanted the feel of his skin against mine. The way he threaded our fingers together when he held my hand. I needed him. Craved him.

Something must have shown on my face, because April nodded. “Okay.” She looked around. “Where the hell is our waitress? We need to pay and get out of here.”

She slid out of the booth to find the waitress, but Mitch was still watching me. “The first weekend . . .” Understanding dawned on his face. “That’s right now.”

“And I’ve already blown Saturday, so that just leaves tomorrow!” Panic rose again in my chest as I scrambled for my keys. I’d been here before. Last time I’d put off my future for my mom, and I lost it all. I couldn’t put it off again. Now that I knew the life I wanted, I couldn’t wait one more minute for that life to begin.

“Okay.” Mitch’s large hand closed over mine, both of us holding fast to my keys. “Listen. Take a breath. You’re not going out there tonight. You don’t know where he’s staying, do you?” Off my head shake, he nodded. “So he could be camping, or he could be at a hotel. You’ll never find him if you drive out there in the middle of the night. Go home. Send him a text, let him know we’re on the way. Get some sleep, and we’ll head over there in the morning.”

“We?”

“Yeah.” He took one more look around the bar and dance floor area as April came back with the receipt in her fist. “Nothing going on here tonight anyway.”

“How altruistic of you,” April said. “Giving up your valuable hookup time to help out a friend.”

“Hey, I’m a giver.” He stuck out an arm, ushering the two of us to walk in front of him. “Besides, I think I’ve hooked up with half of this bar.” He shook his head. “I need a new hangout.”

Twenty-Two

I didn’t text him.

I tried. More than once. But the right words weren’t coming, and I’d meant it when I’d said I was sick of screens, especially when it came to Daniel. He hadn’t fought for me, or done something romantic to win me back, because he thought he wasn’t good enough. That he didn’t have what I wanted. I realized now that I didn’t need a sweeping romantic gesture. Daniel did. So instead I plugged my phone in for the night, telling myself that if for some reason we missed him at the Maryland Ren Fest tomorrow, I’d text. I’d call. I’d do everything in the world to get to him. But until then I needed to find him in person. Do this face-to-face.

The next morning Mitch picked me up in his gargantuan pickup truck—a bright red monstrosity that was roughly the size of my apartment—and we stopped at April’s house before getting on the road.

“Thank you so much for coming along,” I said from the back of the extended cab as April opened the passenger door. “Mitch is great and all—”

“Glad to hear it.” Mitch’s voice was as dry as the Sahara as he adjusted his rearview mirror.

“No problem,” April said. “I figured you could use some moral support of the female . . .” Her voice trailed off as she plopped into her seat and closed the door. “You have got to be kidding me.”

“What?” Mitch put the truck in gear and backed out of April’s driveway.

She didn’t say anything for a second, just sat back against her seat and shook her head. “You had to wear the kilt, didn’t you.” It wasn’t a question.

“It’s a Renaissance faire.” He said the words slowly, as though she’d have trouble understanding. “Of course I’m wearing the kilt. Question is . . .” He raised his voice and looked in the rearview mirror, clearly aiming his next words at me. “Why are you wearing civvies?”

I smoothed my hands nervously over the skirt of the sundress I’d worn today. It was still late August: way too hot to spend the day in jeans. Besides, I looked good in this dress. It was the same color as my bridesmaid dress, and Daniel had really liked me in that. The dusty rose shade warmed my skin, and the top of it was cut almost like a bodice, suggesting a period outfit without actually being one. “Because my costume is at the dry cleaners. I didn’t think I was going to need it before next summer.” I didn’t mention my old costume, clean and packed away in the bottom of my trunk. A different Stacey had worn that outfit, and I wasn’t that girl anymore.

He shook his head before directing his attention back to the road. “Play your cards right today, and you’ll be wearing it a lot sooner than that.”

“And a lot more often,” April chimed in. “You’ll need to get a couple more outfits. You know, if you end up doing this kind of thing full-time.”

“Let’s not worry about that right now.” I took a pull off my travel mug of coffee and regretted it almost immediately. I’d hardly slept the night before, so caffeine had been a must. But my stomach was already jumping around like crazy, and adding coffee just made it churn. I was a live wire. I was a raw nerve ending. How was I going to survive the drive to Annapolis?

It took less than two hours to get there, but it felt like two weeks. Eventually, Mitch’s pickup bounced us across the grassy field of the parking lot for the Maryland Renaissance Festival. Three car doors slammed in quick staccato as we got out. For a long moment we looked around at the lot, where we were just one in a massive sea of cars. Patrons who parked in the lot of the Willow Creek Faire could see the entrance when they got out of their cars: a two-dimensional castle façade that some volunteers had put together about five years ago. But not here. Our entire Faire could probably fit in this parking lot, and all we could see around us was row after row of cars. Like parking at Disney World, but without the trams or mouse ears.