She’s quiet, humming softly then asking carefully, “What do you mean?”
“It started as a ruse. It started because you didn’t trust me. So I thought it’d be safer if I was involved with the woman who wrote the letter, so it wouldn’t be a character indictment. And Summer’s my best friend. I’ve known her for seventeen years. She’s been by my side through everything. I know how to make her laugh, I know how to comfort her when she cries, I know what makes her happy—the park and exercise and her grandmother and trying new things—and I know her dreams. And I want to help her achieve them.”
There goes my heart again, pounding mercilessly against my rib cage, trying to find her, to see her. “And I suppose I didn’t truly realize all of this until we faked it. But I also think maybe a part of me knew I had feelings for her and just didn’t see what was in front of me. After all, I never wanted to invite Emily to prom. I only wanted to go with Summer.”
Geneva sighs happily. “Oh my God, that’s so sweet.”
Then I freeze, remembering something else I said, not last night, but just an hour ago.
I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.
Those words could easily have been misinterpreted.
Shit.
I picture Summer’s face, the hurt in her pretty brown eyes, and I’m sure they were.
There’s a voice in my head, loud and clear, and it’s not my sister’s voice, though I suspect she’d tell me exactly what I need to do right now.
And I know she’d be right, because my own voice is telling me the same thing.
“Excuse me, Geneva. You’re not the one I should be saying this to. Summer is.”
I hang up, grab my keys, and leave.
38SUMMER
I am a stubborn girl.
I know this about myself.
But when I walk into my apartment and find not just my roommate but my mother, my niece, and my twin brother, I let all the tears rain down.
I head for the couch, nosedive into it, and cry in my mother’s lap. Amelia crawls up next to me, crouching by my side. “Don’t cry, Aunt Summer. Everything’s going to be fine. I swear.”
And that makes me cry a little harder—her sweet six-year-old faith in the world.
“Tell me why you’re so sad, honey,” Mags says.
“Yes, tell us. What can we do?”
Amelia snuggles on my lap. “I’m all ears. That’s what my daddy says to me when I want to talk to him. He says, What can I do?”
Logan ruffles his daughter’s hair, then plops down on the couch next to all of us—four women and a guy.
“I’m in love with Oliver Harris.” I choke out the words past the prickly, complicated emotions that clog my throat.
Logan snorts.
I shoot him a sharp stare. “What was that for?”
“Tell me something I don’t know. I came here to see if you were okay, and this is what you confess? Something we’ve all known for years?”
“Thanks a lot,” I mutter.
My grandmother smiles, petting my hair. “Ignore him, honey.”
“Yes. We all do,” my mother says.
“I like Oliver,” Amelia chirps.
“Me too. But it’s a mess, and he said the whole thing was a mistake, and it is a massive mistake. Just look at what happened. I lost the prize money. I lost the chance to write the feature piece. I lost Oliver.”
My mother tuts. “Did you lose Oliver though?”
I make a show of looking around. “He’s not here, and he said it was all a mistake.”
“It’s hard to believe it’s a mistake when you seem like such a great couple,” she says diplomatically.
“But we’re not. This isn’t some cheesy romance where everything works out perfectly. It’s real life.” I swipe my hand across my face, swallowing these dumb tears. I draw a deep, fueling breath, one that I hope masks all this pain in my heart, this wild ache for Oliver. An ache that won’t be soothed. “It’s fine. I don’t want a relationship. I’m not interested in one. It doesn’t remotely make sense in my life.” I hold my chin up high even as my lower lip quivers.
“Relationships never entirely make sense, dear,” my mom says softly. “Did you think it made sense to me when I met your father?”
I furrow my brow. “I don’t know. I hadn’t thought about it.”
She tucks a finger under my chin, tilting my head so she can look me in the eyes. “I just loved him. It wasn’t always convenient.”
I straighten my shoulders. “Well, I don’t have time for a relationship. I’m trying to grow my business, and it’s going to be even harder now. I’ll have to start over.”
