The Fairest Kind of Love Page 5

  Though the fairies express concern, this is not a happy reunion. Their faces turn hard as they address Madame. “How could you do this? She is an innocent girl!”

  “She’s not a victim! I was trying to help her,” Madame spits back. “You are suffocating her with your antiquated ways!”

  “Our ways have kept our family safe, Rose, or have you forgotten since you left?” Papa scowls, bushy eyebrows full of resentment. Rose? Is Madame’s real name Rose? I’m trying to keep up, but we’re definitely only getting a tiny sliver of this Wisteria family drama.

  Madame/Rose crosses her arms, offended. “I didn’t abandon anyone, least of all Jane. I love her. I would never do anything to hurt her.” She pauses, swallowing down a sob. “She needs support, encouragement—”

  “She needs her family, not some opportunistic cousin to fill her head with lies and muck up her morals,” Papa retorts as Mama nods silently behind him. “She is coming home with us, right now.” He points to the empty space beside him, willing his daughter to step forward.

  Jane slumps in defeat, but Rose has not given up her fight. “You don’t understand what she’s going through,” Rose pleads, reaching for her little cousin. Jane looks back at her, biting her lip like she knows there’s no point in speaking up. “I was only trying to show her that there’s a world outside—”

  “ENOUGH!” Papa bellows. In one swift movement, he flies over to Jane, scooping her up in his arms and rejoining his wife. She reaches into her purse and pulls out a fistful of golden sparkles, blowing the glittering dust over herself and her family. Before I can even process what’s happening, the Wisteria parents mutter something under their breath and vanish right before our eyes. It’s so fast, so unexpected, the disappearance takes my breath away.

  As quickly as she came, the matchmaker is gone.

  And I know I need to find her.

  ROSE IS ON THE floor, sobbing into her hands. As she hunches over, the back of her shirt creeps up to reveal the tips of shiny purple wings, which I did not notice until just now. Whoa. Not only is Madame not a matchmaker at all, she’s a fairy.

  Amani crouches down beside her, carefully setting a hand on her shaking shoulders. “Are you okay?”

  Rose wipes her face, truly taking us in for the first time. “Why were you two talking to Jane?” Suspicious, puffy eyes examine me. “Wait, you’re that other matchmaker.”

  Yup, that’s right, the girl you told to get lost. “Yeah. I’m Amber, and I don’t want to intrude or anything, but I feel like we’re pretty involved now. . . . What just happened? Did Jane just get kidnapped by her own parents?”

  “What do you care?” Rose asks with more venom than necessary. It’s clear she’s going through a lot right now, but she doesn’t have to bite off our heads. “You don’t even know her.”

  “You’re right. I don’t. But I’ve also never known another matchmaker, and she hasn’t either. We could help each other.”

  Rose considers this, wiping away smeared mascara. “That would be . . . nice, actually.” She sighs, head hanging heavy from the troubles she’s been carrying around for Gods know how long. “Thank you.”

  “Let’s go someplace that’s not here,” Amani suggests, turning up her nose as a stagehand carries a giant cardboard cupid by. “Like MarshmElla’s?”

  “I love the way you think,” I say. “Let me go find the others.”

  As Amani continues to console the former Madame L’Amour, I hunt down Charlie and Kim, who were busy sitting in the fuzzy armchairs pretending to interview each other. Kim has her eyes closed, wiggling her fingers in midair. “Your match . . . she’s coming into focus. . . .”

  “Wait, I see her now!” Charlie leaps out of the chair, picks me up, and swings me around the stage. “You’re here! It’s a miracle!”

  “Put me down, put me down!” I laugh, kicking my legs. He does but not before making me pay a kiss as a toll.

  “Did you meet the matchmaker?” he asks.

  “Um, did you guys not overhear the giant argument happening only a few feet away?”

  They look at each other blankly. “No?”

  “Good Gods.” I shake my head. “Come on, my innocent little gems. There’s drama waiting in the wings.”

  Before we all head off to MarshmElla’s, I sneak Charlie away from the group, curling my hands around his suspenders and pulling him in for a kiss. Maybe all the talk of happily-ever-after is catching up with me, or maybe my heart is still pounding over almost discovering my match, but I have a sudden and intense need to feel close to him, not just emotionally, but physically. It starts soft and sweet, but after mere seconds, a fire burns bright and I can’t get enough. I want him, all of him, wrapped around me so tight that I’ll never lose him, no matter what we’re destined for.

  When we come up for air, he looks down at me, dark green eyes questioning behind his frames. My head is filled with his static, the ambiguity of my magic. I shake it away as he asks, “What was that for?”

  “Just . . . I love you.” I cup his face with my hands, running my thumbs over his cheeks. How can someone be this cute, this good? “Plus you’re pretty kissable.”

  He smiles, leaning into my palm. “You’re not so bad yourself.” I rest against his chest, head swirling with questions. What is the deal with Jane? Why did those fairies whisk her away? Even if we find her, will a kid be able to help me? Did she see Charlie in my eyes? I have to know.

  MarshmElla’s greets us with a warm, sweet-scented hug. I always feel so proud bringing new people here, like, “I just changed your life. You’re welcome.” I shepherd everyone to a booth like an unofficial hostess and run into the back room to find Ella, the goddess herself, with flecks of lemon rind clinging to her blond bangs. She’s been on a real citrus kick this summer—orange marmalade cupcakes, key lime pie, grapefruit tartlets with a honey crust—and is currently whipping up an impressive batch of lemon-lime thumbprint cookies. Seemingly hundreds of little shortbread circles dot the countertop, each with a healthy dollop of fruit filling and white icing curved in a whimsical daisy design. Even though we just walked in from the June heat, it smells even more like summer in here. Sometimes I think this woman dreams in desserts, which is exactly why I love her so.

  “How is the summer of citrus going?” I ask, using all my willpower not to grab a handful of cookies and shove them all in my mouth.

  Ella’s head pops up, startled. “Amber!” she yelps, squeezing a stream of frosting into the air. “You scared me!”

  “Sorry! I should’ve warned you somehow. I know how in the zone you get with your piping bag.”

  She wipes her hands on her apron, taking a deep breath. “It’s good to see you, though. Congrats on graduation!”

  “Thanks.” My fingers inch closer to the cookies, and Ella laughs.

  “Oh, just take one already. I know you’re probably dying from temptation.” I’m already chewing before the words finish leaving her lips, the tart but sweet flavors mixing on my tongue.

  “Soooo good,” I sigh. She smiles with pride. “Hey, I brought you some customers and guess what—one of them is a fairy!”

  Ella’s brow furrows. “Are you for real?”

  “Have I ever lied to you?”

  Ella looks off dreamily. “Wow, I don’t believe I’ve met a fairy yet.”

  “And,” I continue, chomping on another treat, “her little cousin is another me!”

  “Huh?”

  “A matchmaker! It’s, like, a whole crazy thing; I don’t know what’s going on. Feel free to eavesdrop!”

  She picks up the piping bag, chuckling. “I’ll be out in a second.”

  I head back into the dining area, where my friends are all oohing and aahing over Rose like she’s a mythological creature. And to be honest, I’m probably making the same face. Not really about Rose—I’ve interacted with fairies plenty at the shop—but thinking about Jane. I’m hypnotized by the reality that I’ve met another matchmaker. Has she experienced a similar jo
urney as me? She’s so young, and even though she’s channeled her energy into a successful platform, there’s no way she has the full grasp of her magic yet. Having this fake Madame L’Amour character as the face of her show leads me to believe there’s been at least some drama along the way. . . . Is she beloved by those around her? Reviled? How have the people she’s actually matched in real life taken her news? Good Gods, there is so much I want to ask her, but we’ll have to find her first.

  “Amber, hurry up and get over here!” Amani demands, waving me down. “Rose is waiting to spill all her secrets.”

  “Sorry, sorry, I was just alerting Ella to bring out the good stuff, sheesh.”

  “You smell like lemons. And vanilla. And sunshine,” Charlie says as I scoot in next to him. “Have you already been eating treats?”

  “Shh. You know nothing, Charlie Blitzman.”

  Kim is gushing, spilling out the kind of girl talk I could never pull off. “Rose, let me just say, I am a big fan of Matchmaking Magic! and I love, love, love that you’re a”—she lowers her squeal—“fairy! How completely amazing!”

  “Seriously, that’s so cool!” Charlie exclaims. He can always be counted on to go full fanboy for anything magical. “Can we see your wings?”

  I give him a small punch on the arm. “Charlie, oh my Gods, you can’t just ask someone to show you her wings!”

  “Sorry, I didn’t know.” He grimaces. “It just seems so badass.”

  “Oh, well, thanks.” Rose brushes off the compliments, a permanent scowl on her pierced lips. She sits hunched in the booth, constantly pulling at the back of her unseasonably warm leather jacket. I have never been one to obsess about my appearance too much (my neuroses lie elsewhere), so I can’t imagine what it must feel like to be pressured to disguise part of your body under fabric. As I watch her wince in discomfort, I think about what it’d be like to keep my arms strapped down under my shirt and how terrible that would be.

  “So tell us more about yourself, new friend,” I say, hoping a conversation will help take her mind off her wing troubles. “Like, why are you playing a matchmaker online?”

  Rose chews at the inside of her mouth. “Well, I don’t know how matchmaking has been for you, Amber, but it hasn’t been easy for Jane.”

  Amani jumps in before I can. “Oh, Amber’s life has kind of been a nightmare. Bullying, shunned by the magical community, little to no respect for her talents—did I miss anything?”

  “Gee, pal, I think you covered it all,” I deadpan to her laughter.

  But Rose looks up with a solemn expression. “I’m sorry to hear that, though selfishly I will admit it’s comforting. My family has never understood what Jane does. Most of the time, they look at her like she’s a mistake.” Chipped, black-polished nails run over the shaven sides of her head. “Even though everyone in my family is a fairy,” she continues, “Jane was born without wings. So she’s . . . not. And that’s made life hard for her. Our hometown is small—smaller than small—consisting only of other fairies who work on our farm. Without wings, Jane can’t contribute to our way of life, and her magic is very confusing for everyone else. After she tried breaking up some pretty prominent couples in the community because they weren’t matches, her parents made her shut it down completely, forbidding her to use her talent.”

  The four of us sit back, unsure of how to respond. I know that experience; I’ve walked in Jane’s shoes. Trying to break up couples because I thought it was the right thing to do, only to be greeted with scorn. Never being able to explain how people would be happier if they just followed what I saw in my head. My heart is breaking as Ella brings over a heaping tray of dark chocolate–orange brownies with citrus sprinkles. I can’t even bring myself to take one due to a sinking feeling in my stomach.

  We’re mistakes—magical mistakes. I thought it was just me, that my being a matchmaker was some kind of supernatural consolation prize for not measuring up to the Sands before me. Like, Oh, we couldn’t bring together the traits of your family tree, so here, now YOU can spend the rest of your life bringing people together! Fun, right? It’s either poetic or a sick joke. But I had no idea this was a trend, that the common denominator of undesirable magical mutations was matchmaking. With all the supernatural hookups that have occurred through generations, you’d think there’d be millions of matchmakers walking around, all cursed/blessed by the visions that trail us every single day, and yet this is the first time one has crossed my path. Thinking about Jane’s sweet little face, it’s like a sad upside-down mirror; two little freaks trying to find their way in this cruel world. Maybe I do need a brownie after all.

  “I didn’t mean to kill the vibe.” Rose forces a nervous laugh. “Please, you guys, eat the treats. They smell amazing.” No one moves, not even me, so she grabs the brownie on top, shoving a giant piece into her mouth. Her eyes almost roll back in her head as she mumbles, “Oh my Gods.”

  We follow suit, and she’s not lying: Ella has outdone herself once again. I try to think of something helpful to say as I chew the chocolaty goodness, but all I can think of is “Sorry Jane’s destiny sucks as hard as mine.” And that doesn’t exactly seem comforting.

  “Anyway, it’s not like she could stop matchmaking,” Rose says between bites. “Parent approval or not, it’s a part of her; it makes her happier than anything else. She wanted to share it, but she didn’t want to bring any more embarrassment to our family. So she came to me for help. I’m already the black sheep since I left home to go to art school instead of staying in the family business, so there wasn’t much to lose.

  “We came up with the idea for the matchmaker show. It started really small; we’d film episodes on my phone, matching her stuffed animals and stuff. But Jane wanted to actually use her magic, so we started bringing on my friends as guests.” Rose shakes her head, smiling for the first time. “I had no idea it’d become such a thing. The more views we got, the more Jane’s confidence grew. It was awesome. Her parents had a trip coming up, so I offered to watch Jane, thinking it’d be a great time to show her another part of the world. I didn’t think they’d lose their minds over it.”

  “So . . . you’re the kidnapper?” I gargle through brownie, stray crumbs escaping my mouth.

  “Technically, I guess. But whatever, it was worth it.” She scowls once more. “Showing her around the city, seeing all these people show up for the taping . . . for the first time, she was truly flying. And I know that having a matchmaker friend in her life would be a turning point,” Rose says to me. “Someone to share stories with, someone to make her feel less alone. I’ve done what I can, but, Amber, if you’d be willing—”

  “Of course!” I jump in. “I would love to be Jane’s pseudo Big Sister!” And I mean it, not just because Jane holds the secret to my own match and could possibly help me understand why I’m short-circuiting. Having a mentor was all I ever wanted growing up, and while I may not be the world’s best role model, I’m betting I’m light-years ahead of anyone at her farm.

  “That’s great.” Rose leans back, finally relaxing and ignoring her wings for the first time. “I’m sure Jane’s back home by now, and you wouldn’t have to go there or anything, just the occasional phone call or—”

  She’s cut off by Ivy, who comes in out of nowhere and just makes herself comfortable at our booth. “Who’s this?” she asks, nodding to Rose.

  “Well, hello to you too,” I say, suppressing an eye roll, but only because Ivy looks rough, even worse than the other day. With it being summer, you’d think a beauty queen blonde like Ivy would be taking advantage of all the extra sunlight, getting that coveted tan and those sun-kissed strands. But Ivy somehow looks even paler, taking a cue from Vincent’s playbook. Wait, she couldn’t have gone vamp, right? No (Duh, me), or else she couldn’t have just strolled in here on a sunny afternoon. Still, she definitely needs more vitamin D. “You okay there, killer?”

  “Fine, I guess.” She shrugs. “Another day in paradise.”

  “I
’m Rose, by the way,” the fairy says, extending a hand, which Ivy leaves hanging.

  “And I’m in need of banana pudding.” She goes over to the counter, and Rose squirms in her seat, giving me a look like “You know this unfortunate person?”

  I get jumpy around Ivy too, but this has to be a record for her inflicting discomfort upon others. “Well, that pleasant creature is Ivy Chamberlain. She’s our friend, kind of. Honestly, not sure where we stand on that.”

  “She seems . . . lovely.”

  I nod. “She was the worst person on earth, until she gave up her siren powers to save her sister from a wicked witch. Now she’s just kind of . . . adrift.”

  Rose scrunches up her pierced nose, frowning. “An ex-siren? Is that even possible?”

  “Well, Ivy is one in a million.”

  The fairy takes another bite of brownie, dark purple brows pinching in thought. “Actually, now that I think about it, I seem to remember someone coming by our farm once, looking for a way to get siren powers back.”

  And of course, since my life is nothing but a series of unfortunately timed events, that’s the exact moment Ivy sits back down with her treat. “I’m sorry,” she says with a creepfest smile. “Did you say something about getting siren powers back?”

  Everything feels like it’s moving in hyperspeed to an ending I didn’t even know was a possibility, yet I’m suspended in molasses, unable to stop whatever’s coming.

  Rose has no idea what she’s stepping into as she says, “I mean, yeah. Fairy dust will cure anything.”

  Anything? I exchange a hopeful look with Amani.

  Even broken matchmakers?

  “COME ON,” IVY SCOWLS, waving away rose’s revelation. “fairy dust isn’t real. It’s just some childish, storybook MacGuffin.”

  Rose crosses her arms, tossing back equal sass. “You want to tell a fairy that fairy dust isn’t real?”

  Ivy cackles. “You’re a fairy?” She gives Rose a judgmental once-over. “Yeah, sure.”