And I might be on a path to tearing my family apart.
But so long as Amanda’s gripping my hand, I can survive this.
So long as she’s gripping my hand, I think I can survive anything.
And that’s exactly the kind of thinking I need tonotbelieve in.
Now, or ever.
Chapter 10
Amanda
Me and my big mouth.
I have a hot date tonight.
Now the whole town is wondering what we’re up to. Which means we have to get caught on a hot date. Which means I have to figure out the best hot date to have with a fiancé that they all believe I’ve mostly dated long distance.
So that they can all see that this is real and we’re choosing each other over our families.
And once again, Dane comes to the rescue and answers the question for me.
Beach picnics are hot in this weather.
And romantic. And semiprivate, but also public enough that someone will see us.
“Do you think it’ll actually work?” I whisper to Dane while we set out toward the beach behind the cabin. Chili ambles along slowly behind us, lured by the promise of food. He had a good day with his aunt Lorelei.
Or so we assume. Lorelei reported he snoozed in front of a fan all day.
“Making people think this is real, or tricking our families into getting along?” Dane asks.
“Yes.”
“If anyone can pull off a miracle, it’s you.”
I peer up at him.
He’s in board shorts and a plain white T-shirt, carrying a box of candles that we found in storage and canvas grocery bags filled with our impromptu feast. I’m in a two-piece swimsuit made of boy shorts and a crop top tank, carrying beach towels and a beach blanket.
I’m half convinced I’m going to drop my new engagement ring on the shoreline before tonight’s over.
“You realize I’m the same person who randomly decided today to tell people we met while a dog was humping your leg?” I say to him.
He smiles. “That’s the part that makes miracles fun.”
My heart flutters.
It’s not supposed to do that, but it does. “Did you ask your family about the letter?”
“Not directly. I asked my dad if he knew how many generations of Silvers were haunting him to make him want to keep disliking your family, but he didn’t think it was a serious question. You?”
I shake my head. “I don’t think Grandma was ready to hear it. She’s pretty mad. There was a lot of muttering aboutfruitcake-house-building shitheadsand someeven if you say the vows, it won’t lastgoing on too. Sorry.”
“They’ll come around,” he says.
“Will they?”
