—

“Where are we meeting up, again?” Lainey asks as we finish our training run.

“Hold on—let me check,” I say, pulling my phone out of my fanny pack.

The past few mornings, we’ve met up at Café de Flore near our hotel, but Tyson mentioned another spot this morning and promised to text us after he finished his own (much faster) training run.

“He dropped us a pin. Looks like it’s right near the Eiffel Tower. On the Place du Trocadéro?” I say.

“What’s that?” she asks.

I shrug and say I guess we’ll find out.

By the time we get there, I can see why he chose the meeting spot. The views of the Eiffel Tower are stunning, and the sun, now rising, is forming a bright halo around it. Lainey snaps a selfie of the two of us.

We scan the crowds for Tyson. When we don’t immediately find him, I call his phone.

“Come to the fountain,” he says, something in his voice sounding cryptic.

My heart skips a beat. Olivia was oddly unavailable last night when I called before bed, her phone going straight to voicemail. I’m wondering if she might be here—and I’m hoping that I am right.

As we approach the fountain, I press Lainey. “Is Olivia in Paris?”

She shrugs and says, “Not that I know of.”

She’s completely convincing, but I remind myself that Lainey is an actor—and a damn good one. She’s yet to get another big break like The Pigeon Girl, but she’s been getting steady work since rehab.

A moment later, I spot Tyson. And then Olivia.

“She is here!” I say, running toward them.

Lainey laughs, running behind me. “Surprise!”

“Oh my goodness!” I say when we reach them. I’m smiling so hard my face hurts. “How long have y’all been planning this?”

“Not as long as I’ve been planning this—” Tyson says. He pulls a piece of paper out of his pocket and hands it to Lainey.

I watch as Lainey scans the page, then looks up in surprise. “Oh, wow!” she says.

“What is it?” I ask.

“It’s our pact,” she says. “The Summer Pact.”

“You saved it?” I ask Tyson.

“Of course I did,” Tyson says. “But there’s an addendum you might want to read.” He points back down at the paper.

As I read over Lainey’s shoulder, my eyes drop to the bottom of the page. In Tyson’s neat handwriting, there is a new line below our signatures.

I squint and make out four words: Will you marry me?

I hear Lainey gasp, and then suddenly Tyson is down on one knee, holding a diamond ring, staring up at her.

“Will you be my best friend and my wife?” he asks. “Will you marry me?”

Lainey starts bawling, speechless for one of the first times in her life.

“Yes,” she finally says. “Yes, I will!”

Olivia and I are now sobbing, too. We watch as Tyson slides the ring onto Lainey’s finger. The sun glints off the simple brilliant-cut diamond.

He stands and gives her a long hug as people around us start to applaud and take photos.

When Tyson finally lets go of her, Lainey looks around, beams at the crowd, and asks complete strangers to please airdrop her any photos or videos.

“And follow me on Instagram! At LaineyLawsonActor!”

The moment is so classically Lainey that I’m now laughing as I cry.

“Here. Let’s get one together,” Tyson says, throwing one arm around me and the other around his fiancée. “You too, Olivia!”

“Let me get one of the three of you first,” she says.

We pose, smiling, before she joins us.

Against all odds, we are a foursome once again. As much as we will always miss Summer, I know that she is with us—and that we wouldn’t be here without her.

As strangers continue to snap photos, Lainey holds up her ring and shouts friendly instructions. Make sure you don’t cut off our feet! Or the Eiffel Tower!

I laugh, hoping that someone captures the perfect shot. Then again, I know that’s not what matters. Our lives will never be perfect, nor will the photos we take. What matters is that we are all doing our best. We are showing up for one another, even when things get rough, and against all odds, we are finding our way to happiness.

Acknowledgments

I am deeply grateful…

To Jennifer Hershey, my gifted editor, who not only elevates my writing but also provides unwavering moral support.

To the most incredible publishing team: Kara Welsh, Jennifer Garza, Debbie Aroff, Kim Hovey, Corina Diez, Wendy Wong, Melissa Folds, Katie Horn, Ada Maduka, Loren Noveck, Jo Anne Metsch, Paolo Pepe, and Elena Giavaldi.

To Kate Hardie Patterson, my loyal assistant, who has been by my side for a dozen years, supporting me both professionally and personally.

To Brettne Bloom, my bright light of an agent. Our union truly was bashert.

To my original family: Sarah Giffin, the best sister in the entire world; Mary Ann Elgin, my loving mother; and Bill Giffin, my dear ol’ dad. I’m so fortunate to have them in my corner.

To Nancy LeCroy Mohler, my college and forever bestie, for her tireless input on every draft, paragraph, and sentence of this novel. I remain so touched by her care and truly can’t imagine publishing a book without her.

To Troy Baker for his invaluable contribution and insight into Tyson’s character. I don’t know anyone with a higher EQ.