A cheer goes round the train car and we all lift our glasses higher, toasting our friend and making her feel at home, before we each take a sip. Daphne, a little embarrassed but clearly pleased, struggles to take a sip because she's smiling so hard. A little rush of joy moves through me as the rich taste of the champagne moves across my tongue, the bubbles echoing the effervescent happiness of my soul in this moment.

"Well, thank you," Daphne says, nodding her head around to all of us. "But the true celebration is your success at the Academy this first semester -"

We all cheer round at this too, laughing and shouting, I think needing this outlet after the stress of it all.

"To making it through!" Daphne says, raising her glass again, and we all toast to this as well, sipping more. When it's all done, I frown at mine and Daphne's half-filled glasses and move around her to grab the second bottle of champagne out of Jesse's hands the moment he pops it open.

"Hey!" he shouts in protest, but I know that he doesn't really care as I take the bottle by the neck and move back to Daphne's side.

"Sorry, this is girl champagne," I say, giving a little shrug and carefully looping my arm with Daphne's, grinning at her and nodding towards the door to the bathroom at the far end of the room. I turn my smile on her alone now. "Want to take a second, just me and you?"

"Well, if there's girl champagne involved," she says, giving a happy little shrug. "Who am I to protest?"

Jesse murmurs jokingly, ducking beneath

I move along to the

popping back up with a tiny bottle that our dad either forgot to have removed or secretly hid there, knowing Rafe

toast, I shut the door behind Daphne and I and prepare myself for a much-needed bit of

champagne, I smile to see Daphne

murmurs, taking in the wide pink cushion that stretches along the length of the window, the crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling, the marble finishes to the sink and the tucked-away toilet

gesturing over to the window seat. "This was...all mom. But she knows that a bathroom is

cushion and I refill our flutes, I consider that while mom and dad designed this caboose together - as they do most things - she really took the reins in here. The main room of the train car has much more dad in it - dark colors, masculine lines, polished wood - all rich monied elegance.

her saying that she's sorry - but she puts

as I rest my head against

says, nodding, "but...I mean, it's unforgiveable, isn't it? I feel like you may never trust me again. You should be able to trust me implicitly - know that I'd never,

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