“We need to try harder,” I say. “All of us.” I meet Belle’s eyes and smile at her, remembering her telling me that she also feels out of place sometimes—and how hard it was for me to believe that. “We all have to come together and rock the boat—so no matter how out of place people feel, they’ll never have to question whether they belong here or not.”
Auntie Suzy pulls me into another tight hug—like she’s afraid I’ll disappear all over again.
“We need to let Grace—my mother—know she’s welcome at the gala tonight,” I say. “And in Little Tokyo, period. We need to let her know that she’s part of this.” I gesture around the room. “That she always has been. And that we won’t let her go again.”
“I agree,” Uncle Hikaru says.
“Let’s welcome her home with open arms,” the mochi-demo Auntie says, jabbing a finger in the air.
“But how we find her?” Auntie Och says, frowning. “She’s in hiding.”
“Maybe I can help with that,” Joanna says, waving her phone around. In all the chaos with Craig, I’d forgotten she was here—but I feel a little jolt of pride realizing that she saw me finally channel all that anger. I meet her eyes and give her a small smile—and she beams back at me in a way that says she totally understands.
“I have a pretty big social media following,” she continues. “And hey, Rika, you do, too, now!” She gestures to her screen.
“The Secret Love Child business must have gotten me so many more followers,” I mutter, not sure how I feel about that.
“So we can blast it out there,” Joanna says, tapping on her screen. “But we’re gonna need everyone’s help—you all have to boost these posts, make sure as many people as possible see them. So we know Grace will see them, too.”
The room explodes with activity, everyone grabbing their phones and getting to work. I see Belle trying to teach Uncle Hikaru how Twitter works.
I hug Auntie Suzy one more time and slump into a chair, all the layers of my dress crumpling under me. I still can’t even process everything that’s happened today. Or even in the last hour.
I pull out my phone and make my post, urging Grace to come to the gala. I keep it short and simple: Dear Mom, please come home. We’re all waiting for you. I add the time and location of the gala, just in case she’s forgotten. Then I stare at the screen for a few minutes, as if this will make her magically appear.
As everyone buzzes around me, I feel that door to my heart crack open once more, the tiniest bit of light spilling out.
I do belong here.
I still can’t get over that.
I scan the room and catch Joanna’s eye again. She smiles at me, then goes back to her phone, brow furrowing with concentration.
I remember her telling me I don’t believe in happy endings because I don’t think I deserve one.
That’s only part of the truth, though. The other part is that I’ve always been scared to hope for one because I secretly knew it meant putting my whole heart at risk. It was so much easier to be . . . well, what I thought was the nure-onna. The nure-onna before she claimed her power, lashing out and wishing for revenge.
But now I’m starting to see that princesses and nure-onnas can be what you make of them. What you really feel inside—not just what you think you’re supposed to feel.
And I feel like I’m ready to open my heart.
There’s one more person I need to open it to. The only person who knew what was really there, buried deep inside.
I take my phone out again and tap Henry’s name in my contacts. My index finger hovers over the text window, trying to find the words.
But they won’t come. When I think of Henry, all that comes to mind are the horrible things I said to him right before abandoning him at the beach. He scared me so much . . . because he truly saw me. And he was relentless in trying to see me. He wouldn’t allow my usual armor to deflect him, refused to be cowed by my lashing out.
No matter what, he wouldn’t let me scare him away. He loved me, even though I make it so hard for people to love me. He loved me because of all the things I’ve always thought of as flaws. Not in spite of them.
And I . . .
“Are you trying to find Henry?”
Suddenly Rory appears right behind me, peering over my shoulder. I yelp and nearly drop my phone.
“I . . . yes,” I say. “But it doesn’t matter. I was awful to him. I pushed him away so hard, I—”
“He’s at the beach,” Rory interrupts.
I shake my head at her. “What?”
“We became friends,” Rory says, rolling her eyes at me. “That day he worked at Katsu That. We text each other ‘proof of life’ pictures sometimes. That’s our thing.” She grins to herself. “So I texted him this morning after the whole scandal broke and insisted he send me proof-of-life photos every hour to make sure he was safe.” She holds up her phone so I can see the screen. “See? He’s down by the Santa Monica Pier.”
I take the phone and scrutinize the screen. The photo is of the ocean, framed by sky and sand. The lights of the carnival reflect off the water, a kaleidoscope of bright colors. His face isn’t in the picture, but he’s jutting a hand into frame, as if waving to Rory.
Every feeling I’ve ever had courses through me, overwhelming all my senses—I’m at the top of the roller coaster again, right before the drop. And I know what I have to do.
“Hey, Auntie Och,” I say, waving the phone at her. “Can I borrow the car—or can you drive me to the beach?”
“What’s this?” she says, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. “I thought we all going to the gala . . . ?”
“We are,” I say hastily. “But I need to . . .
