Page 141 of Summer After Summer

I wasn’t sure if that was true, but it didn’t matter if it was. Fred had given up calling and texting and apologizing long ago. How was I supposed to forgive him? He’d lured me to London when he was in a relationship with someone else. He’d kept her as a backup plan. Not that he said that, but it’s what happened. How was I supposed to get past that?

“Fuck Fred,” Ash says.

“Yes.”

“I didn’t mean that literally.”

“I know.”

“So, find someone else.”

“Maybe.”

“No, tonight.”

She’s so earnest and serious, not like Ash at all. “I’m okay, Ash, I promise.”

“Hmm.”

“Why doesn’t anyone believe me when I say that?”

“Because we see your face.”

That stings. Maybe Ash is right. I need to forget the past, who I am, and become someone new. Or be with someone new, anyway. That I do need. Not that I’ve been celibate. But I haven’t connected with anyone, not deeply. And not like with Fred, my stupid brain keeps reminding me. And I do miss that. The excitement, the comfort.

The cab pulls up to the Gansevoort, and we get out, taking the elevator to the top floor. It’s a bit chilly to be outside, but there are heat lamps and votives on the tables, and half the club is inside anyway. Ash gets me a cocktail—for the thrill of ordering it, she says—and whirls me around the room, introducing me to every single man there. When one too many of them has that look cross their face at my name (the one that says they’ve heard something about me, but they aren’t sure what) I excuse myself to go to the bathroom.

I put my drink down on the counter, then raise it quickly and drain it. I examine myself. I don’t look so different from how I did as a teenager. But my eyes tell a different story.

“Fuck this,” I say to myself. I’m going to leave. Ash will understand. I walk out of the bathroom, determined to do so. There’s someone blocking my path.

“Can I get by?”

“Yes, sorry, oh … Olivia?”

I focus on the face in front of me. Blond hair, blue eyes, handsome. “Wes?”

He kisses me on the cheek, then backs off, a bit shy. “It’s good to see you.”

I haven’t seen Wes since I was sixteen, when he was hanging around with Charlotte the first summer I was with Fred. He was nice to me, I remember, for the rest of that summer, when I was sulking around the club, trying to heal my wounded heart.

“What are you doing here?”

“Ash invited me.”

“She did?”

“We’re on a board together.”

“She didn’t mention.”

He laughs. “That’s funny. She talks about you all the time.”

“Don’t be silly …” I curse Ash in my head, but maybe she wasn’t trying to be this specific with her matchmaking. “What have you been up to?”

“That’s a long story … Why don’t we get a drink?”

“I was just leaving.”

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