“We’re discussing Hazel’s disappearance last night,” Ava said.
“What do you mean? Did something happen yesterday?” Alex said in an exaggerated voice, as if pretending he didn’t even know what country he was in right now.
“Oh. My. God,” I said, stunned by the theatrical fish paste coming out of his mouth.
“You’re an even worse liar than your mom when she pretended to like my zucchini bread,” Ava accused.
His fake, dramatic face turned into a smile. “Sorry, I did my best. We’re glad you’re okay, though,” Alex said.
“Don’t worry, I’m sure Luke already lectured you on how stupid that was. Today, we’re just relaxing,” Summer added, piling fruit onto my plate. I felt like I had three butlers serving me from all sides.
“You know I’m not in a wheelchair, right?” I muttered, digging into my plate. Turns out, I was starving.
“Well, you’ll need strength for tomorrow,” she said, grinning like a child tasting ice cream for the first time. I froze. Tomorrow. It’s my birthday tomorrow.
“Why?” I set my fork down. “And where’s Luke?”
“It’s a secret. Like that hospital visit yesterday you hid from us,” Norah added, fake anger masking real hurt.
“Okay, okay, no shaming today,” Summer jumped in my defense.
“Speaking of shaming, your husband’s asleep in the pool, butt naked. I tried to wake him up, but he just deflected by talking about the world’s rising temperature issues.”
They burst into laughter, filling my dizzy head with dopamine and speaking of the devil—Ethan appeared, covering his groin with an inflatable pool toy.
“Remind me to sterilize that,” Summer said just as he walked to her side, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek.
“Damn, I need a giant Tick-tack,” he groaned and took a big gulp of her coffee. “Why am I naked?”
“You tell us,” Norah replied.
“I was so drunk last night, I’ll need years to recover from this hangover,” he grumbled, dragging himself upstairs.
We moved to the patio couch and spent the next hour chatting. Something about them reminded me of Mady, and I realized how much I missed her. She had this fire inside her—always had. As a reporter, she chased stories the way some people chase storms, addicted to the rush of truth. She never hesitated to call bullshit when she saw it. It was a wonder I could hide anything from her. I couldn’t hide anything from Luke, though.
“So yesterday, did you come home safely? Everything went okay?” Norah leaned in.
“Yeah, it’s hospital policy to drag this thing out way longer than necessary. It was just a mild allergic reaction. It happens to me from time to time. Never, even. So rarely, I’m glad I even remembered to take an EpiPen with me.”
“I’m sure Luke already gave you the speech, but I’ll say it once more just to make sure you get it through your thick skull. You really don’t have to be embarrassed or ashamed about stuff like that. Things beyond your control aren’t your fault. God knows we’re not perfect,” she chuckled.
That was hard to believe.
“I’m sorry. I’m not good at asking people things.” It came out almost as a whisper.
“Well, we can’t force you to trust us, but we’d love it if you did.” She gave me a supportive smile and bumped my shoulder.
“I swear it’s not you. It’s my wiring,” I sighed. “But I’m genuinely grateful Luke looked out for me last night. He didn’t have to. He’s a good guy.” I wanted her to know I wasn’t dismissing him or what he’d done for me.
“That’s our Luke,” she said, her smile softening with something close to nostalgia, like she was replaying a reel of inside jokes and shared memories. All the moments I wanted to be part of.
“He just seems so different here,” I murmured, more to myself than to her.
Norah glanced over. “Different how?”
“Well, back home he’sthatguy—corporate golden boy, never tied down, walks of shame every weekend, but here...” I trailed off, struggling to put it into words. “Here he’s just... real. Relaxed. Kind, even. Like he’s not trying so hard to besomething.He hasn’t even hit on anyone.” The last part bothered me more than I wanted. It didn’t used to do that.
“Do you think maybe it’s because of you?” she said, sowing seeds of false hope in me.
