Page 115 of These Summer Storms

Suddenly, everything was clear. Red-tinged with rage, but clear nonetheless. She rounded on Griffin. “How many months ago?”

His gaze flickered to Jack, nervous. Barely landing before he had no choice but to answer her. “In July.”

“July,” she said, panic rising alongside recognition. “July what?”

“Alice.” Jack’s soft tone made her want to scream.

“If you saycalm down…” she said, letting an edge of laughter into her voice, not caring that it sounded slightly hysterical.

“You don’t want to get excited,” Jack replied. “Not here.”

This fucking man.

“Funny, because you just barreled in here and almost started a fight.”

“That was different.”

“Why?”

“Because that was to keep you safe.”

She couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of her—unhinged, honestly—at the words. As though whatever was going on here weren’t making her feel a dozen kinds of unsafe…far more at risk than she had felt with Griffin’s hand on her arm. “Is that the kind of bullshit tone you take when you’re playing fixer?” She rounded on him, her voice rising. “Is this your attempt tofixme?”

He didn’t break. “It’s my attempt to make sure you don’t make a scene.”

“Make ascene? Haven’t you spent the last five days trying to remind me of who my father was? My father, the king of scene-making? Franklin Storm, who rappelled from a helicopter into the middle of Times Square to launch a new cellphone?”

Tony pulled Griffin back, giving Alice more space.

“If you think I’m afraid of a scene, you’ve forgotten the family into which I was born. One you have absolutely no hope offixing.”

Jack wasn’t backing down. “Ask the question, then.”

Gabi appeared at her elbow, Emily not far behind. “Hey…as much as I’d like to watch you fuck up some rich assholes, this seems like something that might be for…another time?”

“It’s not,” Alice replied, not looking away from Jack.

Her friend didn’t hesitate. “Cool. Who are we starting with, then?”

“When in July did you meet Griffin, Jack?”

“Wait—what?” Gabi caught up. “Wait. These assholes know each other?”

“Yes. And I’m guessing that this asshole”—Alice pointed to Jack—“met that one”—she waved at Griffin—“a day or two before that asshole”—Griffin again—“moved out of our apartment with a note written on a food delivery receipt.”

A beat of silence while the words landed.

And then, “Oh my god,” Emily said, softly.

Gabi took a step back. “Then by all means, fuck up some rich assholes.”

It wasn’t worth it. Alice knew that. No matter how much she wanted to exact revenge. She looked to Tony. “Let him go.”

Tony’s gaze flickered to Jack, behind her. “No. Don’t look at him, Tony. This isn’t about him. This is about me. About my life. I get to decide.”

Tony let Griffin go with a firm enough push that he had to catch his balance again.

Alice couldn’t enjoy it. She was rounding on Jack. “Was that my dad’s plan? To stop my wedding?”

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