Page 59 of My Star-Crossed Summer

“I feel like I’m falling hard for him—but is it because it’s him, or because he’s part of this exciting, magical place? Orwhat if he’s feeling something similar and leaves me again when he decides that what we have isn’t magical, but completely mundane? And what happens when camp is over, if we start dating, and then this job works out and we’re working together—” I stop myself before I say anything more, but the worry makes my gut churn and I don’t want to think about how that could end.

Because mixing my work life with my dating life? I already tried that with Theo—and that ended in a dumpster fire.

“Okay, first,” Gwen says, “This sounds like more than any crush I’ve ever had. And second, I need to come clean about something.”

Before I can answer, she plows right ahead. “What you said the other day about Noah ghosting you and how he stopped texting after you told him you wanted him to leave you alone.”

“I never told him that,” I correct her.

After a pause, she says, “I know you’re going to hate me for this, and you have every right to, but before you murder me, please know that I did what I did out of love.”

“Gwennie,” I say. “What did you do?”

She lets out a heavy sigh. “I texted Noah from your phone that summer. I pretended to be you and told him to leave you alone. Then I deleted the message so you’d never see it. And then I blocked his number.”

“Gwen!”

“I’m sorry!” she cries. “I was so mad at him for hurting you. You were heartbroken and he was off galavanting with some other woman and sending you photos like it was nothing, making you watch him fall in love with someone else—and I just couldn’t stand seeing how much it crushed you.” She huffs. “I wanted to fly across the ocean and punch him in the nose, but I settled for sending an angry text. Or three.”

“I can’t believe you did that.” My gut churns.

“I know. I’m so sorry.” She groans. “I guess I thought that if he really loved you like he said he did, he’d man up and come see you in person and resolve things. Or else he’d just disappear forever and spare you any more hurt feelings. But I shouldn’t have interfered, and I should have told you this long before now.”

I lean against the fir’s massive trunk, feeling the air whoosh right out of my lungs.

Noah didn’t ghost me after all. Now what he told me at the beginning of camp makes sense:I thought I was doing what you wanted. You said to leave you be.

“I’ll do whatever it takes to make this up to you,” Gwen says. “I feel terrible.”

“It’s okay,” I tell her, because it will be.

“You deserve all the love the world can send you,” she says. “Don’t shut it out, okay?” Her voice fades in and out a little, and I take a step farther from the tree. I caught the most important words, and they’re hitting me square in the heart. “Vic?” she says again. “Did you hear me?”

“Yeah,” I tell her. Tears prick my eyes because I know she’s right—about all of it. “I should go,” I tell her. “I have to do snacks for movie night.” Noah and Sophie are setting up the projector in the lounge, and I’m in charge of popcorn. And now it feels like, once again, the world has turned sideways and I’ve lost my footing.

“Love you, babe,” she says. “I’ll see you soon. And I’m rooting for you here. I always am.”

Just as I end the call and step away from the tree, my phone beeps with a missed call and voicemail that came yesterday, no doubt delayed by our spotty signal. Curious, I play the message. There’s a lot of static, so I listen to it twice to make sure I didn’t mishear the words—because surely I did.

But I didn’t.

The message is from Diana Chase, former partner at Rayanne’s real estate firm and her biggest rival—until she moved to Pensacola. Diana’s voice sounds razor sharp, her words concise as always. She heard I left Rayanne’s firm and wonders if I’m interested in joining hers. She asks the question like she’s just asking me to meet for lunch—like it’s not the kind of leveling up I’d dreamed of for my career. It’s a big idea to leave hanging in a voicemail message, but that’s right on-brand for Diana Chase. The phraseTime is moneywas made for her. She was doing well when she left Jasmine Falls, but now that she’s been selling multi-million-dollar homes on the Florida coast for a couple of years? She could probably retire already, in her late forties. But Diana’s a shark, and she likes the thrill too much to retire. I shadowed her for years, hoping I could learn her kind of poise and closing skills.

For her to ask me now seems almost too good to be true. Because working with Diana Chase? That’s a game-changer. A career-maker. An offer I’d be crazy to pass up.

So why am I not more excited by the idea?

Her call is from yesterday, just before noon. It’s nearly seven now, which isn’t too late to call her because Diana Chase doesn’t take time off. I’m not certain she even sleeps. But the movie’s starting soon, and I need to help get everything ready for the kids.

I also need to get my thoughts together so I don’t sound like a frazzled mess when I talk to her.

So I text her a quick reply, but it’s too eager and there are too many exclamation points. Diana Chase does not use exclamation points. Frowning, I delete it and write another, settling for gracious and concise, asking if we can chat in the morning or on Tuesday. Then I read it a dozen times to make sure there are no typos or over-excited punctuation, and hit send.

I wait for a moment, pacing under the tree, making sure it goes through. Satisfied that it did, I shove my phone into my pocket and head toward the admin building, where one of the lounges will soon be transformed into a movie theater. I’ve only made it a few feet when my phone buzzes with a text.

Great,Diana writes.How’s Wednesday at 10 am?

Perfect,I reply.Looking forward to it.I head back to the tree, just in case, waiting to see the check mark that means it’s gone through.

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