Page 3 of Our Secret Summer

“There’s plenty for unexpected guests,” Dylan said. “I hope you’re hungry.”

“What’s cooking?” Raffo settled at the kitchen island opposite the stove.

“Pasta primavera,” Dylan said, her attention back on the task at hand. “Ready in two minutes.”

“Lucky me,” Raffo joked. “If Connor had told me this house came with a private chef, I would have come up a lot sooner.”

It was a true delight to see Dylan’s shoulders shake as she laughed.

Raffo and Dylan sat opposite each other at the weathered wooden table on the deck by the lake. The view was gorgeous, the air was just the right amount of crisp without being chilly, and that chablis was not half bad either.

“I should have seen it coming from a mile away. The distance growing between us, the silences that stretched too long, the way her eyes stopped lighting up when I entered the room. But I had my head too far up my own ass to notice until it was too late.”

“I’m sorry,” Dylan said, her voice soft with understanding. “Is that why you came out here? To get away, clear your head?”

Raffo nodded, not trusting herself to speak around the lump growing in her throat. She took a fortifying sip of wine before continuing. “She didn’t just break my heart, she also stole my mojo. It’s like I can’t paint anymore. I still go through the motions, but that thing that makes it special, that makes it feel like the mostmeI can ever be, is just… gone. And without my mojo, without my art, I only feel like half a person.”

“What you’re feeling is perfectly normal,” Dylan reassured her. “You’re grieving the loss of a relationship, a huge part of your life. You need time to heal.”

“I’m just so scared that she broke something vital in me, something that can never be fixed and that, as a result, I’ll never paint a great work again.” The words poured out of Raffo in a torrent, the anxiety that had been gnawing at her, growing with each failed attempt at painting, with each frustrating day spent staring at a maddeningly mediocre canvas. Raffo had sat on Connor’s couch so paralyzed with this particular fear, he’d practically pushed her into her car in the direction of Big Bear.

“How long were you and Mia together?” Dylan asked gently.

“Ten years,” Raffo said. “Well, minus two months and a handful of agonizing days that felt like an eternity.”

Dylan whistled through her teeth. “Damn. A decade is a long time.”

“Yeah,” Raffo said on a ragged sigh. “God, I loved her. Still do.” She swallowed something out of her throat. “I still think she’s the greatest person in the world.” She scoffed. “Certainly not the nicest or the kindest or the most considerate, but just one of those irresistible larger-than-life characters, you know? Someone who only has to take one step into any room to have all eyes on her.” Raffo shook her head. “Not that she isn’t also nice and kind and all those things. At least, she used to be, but… she fell out of love. Like, it didn’t match anymore.” A fat tear slid down Raffo’s cheek, but she made no move to wipe it away. “The love I felt for her and the love she had for me, they stopped matching up. It became completely lopsided, uneven, and it’s the most excruciating feeling in the world when the person you love the most, the one you can’t imagine life without, stops loving you back the same way.”

“Oh, Raffo. Oh, sweetheart.” Unlike Mia over the past few months, Dylan was plenty kind. “Here.” She slipped Raffo a clean napkin from a stack on the table.

“I just want to fucking paint again.” Raffo dabbed at the tear on her cheek. “I’m, like, at least fifty percent happier if I can do some painting. It fills me up, gives my life such meaning and joy, but I can’t. I’m totally blocked. It’s driving me insane.”

“It will come back. Your talent is an intrinsic part of who you are. It hasn’t gone anywhere, even if it feels out of reach right now. You just need some time, and some peace, to rediscover it.” Dylan smiled sweetly. “There’s no doubt in my mind about that.”

Raffo shrugged, then peered at the lake. “Maybe a few good swims will do the trick.”

“That lake can be somewhat of a miracle worker.” Dylan sounded wistful. “I hope you stay long enough to experience its magic.”

“Magic?” Raffo looked at Dylan. “Has it magically solved your problem?”

“My problem is a little different than yours,” was all Dylan said—and rightly so.

Raffo hadn’t meant to sound so sharp. “Look at us,” she said. “In this gorgeous spot, feeling so miserable.”

“That’s just life, though.” Dylan inhaled deeply. “That’s just how life can fuck with you.” Connor’s mother certainly liked to swear—and Raffo was rather fond of a woman who knew her way around an expletive.

CHAPTER 4

Who was this Mia who had dumped the likes of Raffo Shah? Dylan didn’t get it. Then again, she wouldn’t. Connor was always raving about Raffo and now that Dylan had spent a few hours in her company, apart from devastated about her break-up, Dylan found Raffo to be incredibly down-to-earth and unexpectedly captivating. She could see why a drama queen like her son would have someone so cool and collected as his best friend. Even the way Raffo spoke was thoughtful and measured—even when she talked about how she got dumped. Even when she shed a tear, she did so with an incongruous kind of dignity.

Dylan must have crossed paths with larger-than-life-Mia the same way she had with Raffo, but she hadn’t paid any attention at the time—Mia’s room-filling charisma must have failed to reach her.

Dylan had many questions—and she hadn’t had a proper conversation with another human being in two long weeks—but she decided it was best to further avoid the topic of Raffo’s ex tonight.

“I had my trip to Europe all planned and booked. I’d been looking forward to it for the past year,” Dylan confessed. “Then the cryptocurrency I invested most of my savings in crashed, and here I am.” Saying it to Raffo’s serene, kind face somehow made it easier to speak these wretched words aloud.

“Fuck.” Raffo’s voice was deep and low and perfectly matched how she looked. “How much did you lose?”

---