And so Eve found herself standing outside the Mermaid Inn watching another Mermaid Parade. She was surprised by how many people marching or perched on floats she knew. She waved at Carol Dyson from the beauty salon as she gave her daughter CJ a blowout on the back of the Curl Up and Dye float. And at Eiko, who was weaving in and out of the floats taking pictures for the newspaper.

And there was Jordan from the auto shop, driving the members of the Bluewater Quilting Guild, who were smiling and waving from the back of a pickup truck that was covered in a quilted truck cozy complete with openings for windows, mirrors, and exhaust pipe.

By the time the high school marching band appeared, Eve was grinning from ear to ear. What they lacked in skill, they made up for in enthusiasm. This year, unlike last, the trident-throwing majorettes made her laugh and clap.

And then it was over—or almost over. She craned her neck to get a look at the garish monstrosity that was the final float of the parade. It was covered in streamers and bric-a-brac and papier-mâché sea creatures. It was like one of Lucille’s knickknack shelves come to life—on a gigantic scale. Poor Maya.

Except Maya wasn’t there. Neither were the two giant clamshell thrones on which the mer-king and mer-queen traditionally perched.

There was a mer-king, though, a bare-chested mer-king with a crown and a trident and a tail.

And that mer-king was Sawyer.

And he was sitting in a canoe painted with a pink stripe.

“And Ariel and the prince lived happily ever after.”

Eve whirled. Maya. “What are—”

Maya snapped her fingers and pointed to the float. “Don’t look at me. I’m just here fulfilling my cartoon-seagull-sidekick duties—I’ve decided on the seagull, by the way. Crab just has bad connotations.”

When Eve returned her attention to the float, it had stopped moving. She felt her jaw drop as Sawyer got up out of the canoe. Or tried to. His tail made it difficult. While the entire town watched, he wrestled with the thing, eventually reaching behind him and undoing a zipper and stepping out of it entirely. He was barefoot and bare-legged under there. So when he climbed down and made his way over to her, he was only wearing shorts. And a crown. And carrying a trident.

Maya whistled as he approached.

Eve turned again, and Maya did her impatient snapping-and-pointing thing again, directing Eve’s attention back to Sawyer.

He was aiming blue laser beams at Eve. Then he started talking. “You weren’t the only one who paid attention to Lucille’s fairy tales. That ‘Little Mermaid’ story—the original—is dark. She gives up her voice and her legs for the prince. And guess what? He’s not worth it.”

Speaking was impossible. Eve opened her mouth, but nothing came out.